This is especially for torsstupidmouth on her birthday.
Hopefully this isn't too far from what you wanted. Needless to say, I left out the magic dick healing mouth part. ;)
And thank you so much Susan for getting this back at such short notice.
Happy birthday tor, love you! xoxo
The night is alive despite the darkness that would suggest otherwise. I can hear sounds that should be impossible to make out; sounds that I wish were. Insects buzzing on the ground, leaves crunching underfoot, speeding cars miles away from us, neighbouring houses with rattling bed frames...
I try my best to block it all out and focus instead on the steady breathing of the girl next to me.
Bella.
She murmurs my name in her sleep and I tentatively reach out to touch her cheek—soft and warm and completely too good for me. The warmth she radiates is addictive and I can't stop my fingers from slowly trailing downwards to her neck, feeling the thrumming pulse of the most important thing in my existence: her beating heart.
It lets me know she's here... alive and not in imitated slumber on cold, cobbled streets never to wake up. I was so sure I'd lost her forever.
Memories flash to the surface; my name being called, impossible beauty in my hands, a dream, this must be a dream, lips I never thought I'd feel again, and a neck bore to someone who, under different circumstances, would not have thought twice in tasting.
And it had all been for me. Her blood would have been on my hands. The thought of Bella no longer in this world in any capacity was unthinkable.
I breathe deeply, a useless action that shouldn't benefit me, yet somehow helps in calming my errant emotions into a more stable grip.
I look back down onto her sleeping face. She'd forgiven me so easily after Volterra. I hadn't deserved it, but had craved it all the same.
The images inside Charlie Swan's head had, and still were, the hardest part to deal with; witnessing the results of my actions in leaving her for all those months. It was a mistake I'd try to put right for as long as she'd let me.
She is, and always will be, my entire world.
Another name slips through her lips and I immediately still the movement of my hand.
Jacob.
I have to resist the urge to put my fist through the wall behind me.
She's been saying his name a lot in her sleep in recent weeks. I know why, and yet I still don't like it.
She misses her friend; a friend that looked after her when I wasn't here to do so. A friend I deem far too dangerous for her to now be around.
A young werewolf is unpredictable at the best of times, but Jacob's feelings for Bella have never been simple. I won't take any more chances with her safety.
I leave her to sleep, and make my way to the open window, sensing something isn't right.
Then I smell it.
Him.
What does he think he's doing here?
It takes me less than a second for my feet to find the ground, insistent on keeping him as far away from her as possible. Trees whiz past in a flurry of brown and green, scents of pine and bark hitting my senses along with the more repulsive.
I spot him easily enough, up ahead alongside the clearing of fallen trunks. One caused by my own hand months before.
My temper is rising, building just as quickly as my effortless movement as I glide across the forest floor.
His hands are formed into restless fists, fingers squeezing harshly before allowing them mobility once more. He knows I'm here now, waiting for him to turn around and explain what it is that he wants, even though I already know—his thoughts give him away. Bella, Bella, Bella and an endless circle of hate towards me that doesn't surprise me in the slightest. The feeling is entirely mutual, after all.
"What is it you want, Jacob?" I ask, tired of waiting for him to calm down. "You're not supposed to be here."
"And neither are you," he spits, pacing, gaze on the floor and nearing with every step. I almost want to laugh at his attempts at trying to intimidate me, if that is indeed what he's trying to do. His thoughts are still filled with ire, so I'm assuming that's the case.
"As long as Bella wants me to stay, I will," I inform him, becoming increasingly impatient at being dragged away from her. I want to be cruel and say she doesn't want to see him, that I know she hasn't been worrying about him one iota. But I find myself unable to lie to him about it.
"She doesn't know what she wants," he shouts, his muscles rippling in his arms as he breathes heavily.
He looks completely out of control. "Look at you," I hiss. "This is why I don't want you anywhere near her. You can't even control yourself for more than two minutes. You're too dangerous."
"That's rich coming from someone who'll end up killing her. Who almost did end up killing her." I flinch, but his words don't stop there though, they just continue in his head.
He's right. I don't feel like myself. It's all that bloodsucker's fault for coming back here. Bella would have gotten over him in time, I know she would have. All I needed was a little more time. I don't even know why I'm here…
I think of Bella, knowing I owe something to Jacob for keeping her alive while I was gone, and find myself grudgingly offering something I don't want to give, but simultaneously knowing it will make her happy. Whatever she wants, I remind myself.
"I can pass on a message, if that's why you're here."
He finally disengages from whatever was keeping his earlier attention and stares straight at me, eyes full of undisguised hostility that match his convictions, when, suddenly, everything becomes quiet. His mind becomes blank and words cease.
Nothing else seems to matter.
I want to look away but find that I'm powerless to tear myself apart from his gaze. Time seems to stand still, and I'm frozen in place, fighting against something unknown.
His face suddenly pales, and his mouth twists, the hate now replaced with fear… and something else.
All too quickly his thoughts return, so fast I can only pick up certain words, and even they make no sense. Or perhaps I'm unwilling for them to.
I notice the repulsive smell is gone, and all I'm left with is the scents of the forest and wildlife that had scattered when they became aware I was here.
Oh God, no. Please, no. His inner pleas set me on edge, and still, I'm incapable at doing anything apart from standing exactly where I am. My skin feels tingly, as if warm—a similar sensation I get from skin to skin contact with Bella. But she isn't here, and I'm not touching anybody.
A whining noise rips through him as he falls to his knees, his eyes forever drifting back to me, before just as abruptly, leaving again.
I will myself to snap myself out of whatever it is that's happening, but fear I'm dying all over again when a particular word starts projecting itself more than the others in his current state of anxiety.
Imprint.
I try to gulp air that I don't need, the tingling of my skin still there, causing my panic to amplify.
I finally find my voice. "What did you do?" I whisper, dazed and confused.
He doesn't answer.
"What did you do?" I roar, my fist breaking through the centre of the tree beside me, a deafening crack echoing throughout the dense space.
"Nothing! I did nothing!" he shouts, trying to push himself away while still on his knees.
There's this odd tugging sensation rippling through me, as if I need to get closer to something, or more horrifyingly, someone.
He's on his feet now, staring at me. Again. "Stop looking at me!" I cry, knowing full well that I've been staring just as much.
"I can't help it!" he yells, coming closer. "Do you think I want to? I don't," and his face crumbles. "I can't help it," he repeats again.
Venom fills my mouth and I swallow it down in a rush. "Just take it back," I implore, feeling as if I shouldn't be saying the words as they leave my mouth.
His anger is back, but this time I don't think it's completely directed at me. "Don't you get it? I can't. It's out of my control."
And I'm not sure I want to.
I cover my ears, knowing it's useless. That isn't how my gift… my burden, works.
I suddenly realise where that tingling sensation is coming from—it's from him… he's emanating more heat than is normal for a werewolf. He's filled with fire like burning embers, glowing, and I can't erase the feel of it from my otherwise impenetrable skin.
I crouch down on the floor with my head cradled in my hands, wondering how this can even be possible, when his hand reaches out to touch my shoulder. My panic ebbs but it doesn't comfort me. I've moved before he even has time to blink.
Why didn't I move sooner? I knew he was there…
"Don't touch me," I snarl, watching him stand there in a mixture of anger and contentment. Need and please, please, please.
He says nothing, but simply begins to tremble again, all over. I'm not sure it's the anger causing it this time though.
"I can't be what you want," I tell him, determined. "I won't be what you want. I have Bella…"
And with horrifying clarity her name spoken aloud doesn't cause the usual love to bloom, but rather just… float. It is no longer a necessity. There is still affection, and more prominently, it's now joined by a cloying layer of guilt. But why would I feel guilty? Nothing is going to happen here. Nothing is going to change between her and me.
Bella's name does nothing to Jacob either. His thoughts are simply friendly. There is no obsession like before and no new guilt like now. It appears she is no longer important to him, and for the first time tonight, I think I'm thankful.
If I can fight this… ignore it, then nothing will have to change. My eyes find Jacob's as I think this, and the way he's looking at me blasts everything else out of focus.
"This never happened," I tell him, my voice sounding strange to my own ears.
He's gripping his arms so tightly I think he'll rupture muscle. "That's fine by me." His head immediately tries to dispel this idea, but I can see he's fighting now too.
I try to ignore the pain that seems to go along with it. From both him and me.
That's not my problem. And I've dealt with worse.
I leave without looking back, a flash of movement that to the human eye would be nothing.
His following cry threatens to bring me to my knees, as if I've had the breath I don't need knocked right out of me. I can hear the sounds of fist meeting stone and dirt, palms digging into the soil, ripping handfuls out in despair. Over and over.
And by the time I reach the edge of the forest, I find myself exactly where I thought I'd end up—on my hands and knees, a gasping movement from my chest, fingers digging into the very ground he's tearing up.
We're both trying to remove something inside ourselves that we shouldn't want, but fiercely need.
We are one in our anguish.
I manage to crawl the rest of the distance, and slide down against the side of Bella's house, whispering prayers that no one will answer—whispering prayers that no one will hear.
The only person who will understand is out there right now inflicting pain on things that can't feel.
And for the first time in years, I'm grateful I can no longer sleep. I'd be trapped in nightmares filled with cries and pain and tortured glances.
Much like I am in my own head right at this moment.
But at least this way I have a choice.
I still have a choice.
Don't I?
XXX
Bella is still sleeping when I climb back through her window, and for the longest moment I just sit in the chair beside her bed and watch. I'm searching for what I know is there somewhere. A love like that doesn't just fizzle out without warning.
I can feel respect and friendliness and tenderness. I still care. But nothing beyond that.
Moonlight washes over her features and sorrow sails through the room like boats on choppy tides.
He took it all away.
I leave a note beside her on the pillow, words that no longer look right on the white page.
I go home.
XXX
Alice is sitting on the steps waiting for me when I reach the house. I stop thinking, trying to appear in control.
Her brows are drawn, a frown on her face.
"What's wrong?" she asks, reaching for my hand as I pass.
I pause.
"Nothing, I'm fine."
She looks off into the distance. "I saw you in pain, Edward. I didn't intervene but…"
I'm relieved that her ability doesn't extend to seeing any of the wolves. There's no way she'd understand.
I was there and I still don't understand it—I still don't know what I'm meant to do about it other than try my best to ignore whatever it is I'm experiencing.
I look down into Alice's golden eyes and lie to someone who has always been there for me. I lie to someone who doesn't deserve it. "Charlie was having nightmares again… about Bella. I couldn't stand it so I went for a walk. I had to escape for a little while."
She accepts this so easily.
"I understand," she whispers, briefly squeezing the hand she had reached for earlier as she leaves me alone with a sad smile.
My room feels as if it belongs to someone else as I close the door behind me. Everything that was me now feels as if it never was. All my notions and beliefs and love have been dispelled. It feels as though there is something missing—that I won't be able to rest until that something is found. I search through my keepsakes; through the piles of books and music lining the shelves—through the pages of words that are scattered around the floor and surfaces, all useless. Journals kept from years before.
I still don't find what I'm looking for as that something has a name that instantly brings jealousy and nothing and never to the forefront of my mind.
My anger has returned, and I'm sure that if tears could still fall, they would be sliding their way down my pale skin, raindrops on frozen-over lakes.
I spend the longest time looking at a photo of Bella and I… was all this false the whole time? I know enough about how imprinting works, but it's impossible to think that what happened tonight is real. I've read bits here and there in books, endless nights of reading whatever Carlisle had stored in his library while the others spent time with their mates.
I finally thought I'd found mine, to have that relief snatched from my hands is crushing.
I tear page after page from the journal left open on the desk, shredding each sheet into thousands of pieces; a click of the fingers that creates a shower of white.
There is a war commencing inside me. Cold against warm. Hate against need.
Head against heart.
I crumble a CD to dust as I let my resolve wash over me.
I won't let it consume me.
XXX
I place a kiss to Bella's temple as we exit the car, the school parking lot crawling with students that are seemingly exactly the same.
This kiss is not—they haven't been for two days.
I've become desperate to capture what was there before; touching her more than usual, kissing her more than I have any right to.
And I try so hard not to think about anyone else when her lips find mine; I simply search for that more.
But most of all, I try to dislodge the urgency that screams at me every second of every day since I left howling pain on the forest floor.
"You're quiet," Bella observes, looking up at me with those innocent eyes that make me feel like a fraud.
I am a fraud.
"Just thinking," I smile, forcing the corners of my mouth to curl as I briefly touch her chin with my thumb.
"About what?"
And this is the question that I didn't want to have to answer. The truth scares me more than I thought possible, and yet, also seems to bring that warmth with it again.
"You. Always you."
And so many lies.
Her answering smile would have made me happier than I thought possible if this were three days ago.
I haven't shown anyone the confliction I feel inside, haven't sought help from Carlisle as I normally would. I wait until Bella is asleep, and then I go as far into the forest as I allow myself, knowing he's there… sensing him there, but not pushing it any further.
When he tries to move closer, I shift further away. He got my message, just as I got his continuous one.
I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry.
It's been enough for us both it seems.
Until now.
He appears between two cars as they drive off; his bike behind him as he looks our way. His gaze locks on mine and that warmth intensifies, threatening to turn me to smoke and ash.
A gasp. "Jacob?"
His name causes a shiver to run down my spine.
Bella's gone before I can stop her. And I realise I didn't even attempt to.
She throws her arms around his neck as his hands meet at her back, and my jealousy isn't directed as it should be. It's directed at her.
Alice watches on from her place by Jasper's side, and I'm thankful once more that her mind is blocked when it comes to Jacob.
And Jasper… if he picks up on my emotions, all he will assume is that the jealousy I'm enduring is directed at Jacob, and not Bella.
I need to speak to you. Explain.
His voice infiltrates into my head with ease, and seeing him here… looking directly at him, I can't deny him. My plan to ignore him weakens until it becomes impossible.
I give him a singular nod that causes him more happiness than it should—that causes me more relief than I want to feel.
I continue to watch him smile down at her, his hands touching her arms and face. I start to wonder what his touch would feel like on my face.
He catches me watching. Jealous?
I fist my hands in my pockets so he can't see, and make my way over there, ready to prove a point that will be a lie. Prove a point that will hurt him just like he has me.
I pull Bella to me and wrap my arms around her waist from behind, his own jealous flaring up as he thinks words about Bella he never has before.
My lips find her neck as I plant a solitary kiss that should speak of possession, but doesn't. I don't feel anything other than a gentle affection. However, the disdain I feel at knowing this is overpowering.
If I hurt her, I'll still feel anguish. If she cries, I'll still feel guilt. And if she ever found out… the look I know I would see on her face would torment me forever.
I straighten up and notice Jacob still has his eyes on my mouth, even though I've pulled away and am no longer tormenting him on purpose. The wants in his head cause something within me to stir.
He begins to look as restless as I feel. She can't be here. "Go inside, Bella."
The bell rings just as I get the words out, worry lines creasing around her eyes as she looks up at me, face imploring.
I hold back a frown. None of this is fair to her, to either of us. It's cruel.
"It's okay," I assure her. "I just need to talk to Jacob about something for a second."
"Please, no fighting," she begs. "I love you both," and I wince internally. "Just… please." She leaves without another word, shame hanging over my head.
She deserves so much better than either of us.
"You shouldn't be here," I tell him, unable to look into his eyes now that we're alone. I don't want to see what I know I will. I already feel like I'm breaking into a million pieces.
I can hear him, promises to do what I want; my happiness above anyone else's.
If I told him to stay away from me, would he? And why can't I physically ask him to?
I don't know how to deal with this. My anger grows and just as suddenly descends, as if feeling something other than contentment for him is wrong. My will won't accept it.
"I had to come," he replies, his fingers brushing against mine seemingly without his permission. His eyes widen and my mouth clamps shut, incapable of telling him he didn't have to. His need is far stronger than mine; his commitment greater. I can hear it.
"I wish I'd never come back," I answer honestly, pulling my hand away. His expression morphs into one of agony, wounded by my words. "Death would have been a blessing compared to this."
He shakes his head. "Don't."
"It's true," I say. "I hate what's happening here. I hate that I can't make a decision without your name appearing in my head, 'but what about Jacob?' I don't want that," I snap.
"I hate that I'm hurting Bella. She's done nothing wrong, and yet she's the one that's going to end up hurt."
He grips the front of his shirt. "You're hurting me now," he interrupts, staring at the sky. I go to walk away, escape, when he continues.
"You still don't get it do you? What happened… a bond is in place, there's nothing I can do to cut it, and neither can you. It was too fast, uncontrollable. I always thought it was going to be Bella…"
I glance behind me and breathe out, "Perhaps it should have been."
He doesn't even consider it—a rejection, a stupid idea.
"You were my enemy for so long," he says, "and even though you still should be, I don't see you like that any more. I can't see you like that."
He swallows heavily, quickly clearing his throat, adding to his previous words. "I'm sorry you seem to be so unhappy."
I feel blow after blow of what those words do to him, and this time allow him a little hope.
"Do you know what I hate the most?" I whisper, backing away. He shakes his head.
"I hate that I can't hate you."
He looks up and holds my gaze for a few seconds before I turn away to return to someone who no longer carries a piece of me with them.
I've just left the person who does behind.
XXX
I hear him before I see him, his footsteps slapping against the dirt as he runs to where I'm standing.
I'm not in my usual spot, hidden, but rather where I know he'll stop. I see his surprise as he comes into view, but it's quickly washed away and I almost see a smile.
I say nothing, but allow him to rest beside me, his back straight against the same tree. I rest my arms on my knees and look down, staring at my hands at they dangle from my legss
"Thank you." And I think this is the most sincere I've ever heard him.
We sit like this, in complete silence, at least on my part. He's a beacon of want.
I know what he's going to do before he tries, and yet I don't move despite my head screaming at me to. Apparently that part of me is no longer in control.
His hand slowly reaches out to touch my arm, the sleeves of my shirt rolled up to my elbows, granting him bare skin. And that warmth I've become accustomed to spreads as his breathing becomes uneven.
Fingers move upwards until they're beneath my chin, encouraging me to turn and face him, to please give him this contact.
And what scares me is that I'm all too willing to do it. So when his lips are just a centimetre from mine, I don't shift away in disgust, I'm actually hoping he does it, just to see. Then maybe, just maybe, I'll be able to stop all this before it goes too far.
But the moment his mouth closes over mine I'm reminded of what a stupid idea that is, because if I thought that the first time Bella kissed me was special, this is so much more.
Heat spreads down my chest, continuing until I feel it lower. Moans fill my mouth and I can't tell of they're his or mine, too far gone to even care.
And when I find myself on my back, Jacobs's hands under my shirt, I encourage him to search further, just like my hands are. He shifts against me, hardness against hardness, a frenzy of pushing and gripping hands.
I can feel his heart racing beneath my palm, his clouded thoughts of not enough a contradiction of my own too fast.
I push at his shoulders, and wrench my mouth away, clarity setting in, bright like sunrise.
"No, I can't, Bella…"
He sighs but doesn't argue, even though I know he wants to.
"She's human, Edward," he whispers. "She won't always be here."
I feel the first strong emotion I've felt in conjunction with her name in days…
"And so are you, for the most part," I answer, feeling shaken over what just transpired.
I can still feel the warmth of his mouth on my skin…
"But as long as I phase every so often, I'll be able to live alongside you."
The mention of something long-term jolts the conversation into focus, my mind threatening to drift once more.
That hadn't even crossed my mind. But why wouldn't he think that… want that? And do I?
"And what about my family, Jacob? Your pack? What happens to them?"
If they can't accept it, they get left behind.
And he can't even bear to say the answer out loud.
He's still so young, and so am I, in human years.
He thinks he knows, but he doesn't.
I look at his face, seeing his vulnerability shine back at me.
He thinks he has everything figured out.
I wish he did.
XXX
Bella wanted to go for a walk, enjoy the sun where we could be alone—where no one would be able to see my skin blind in the uninterrupted rays of light.
There are no clouds today, no grey skies with ominous threats. This should be a freeing moment, but it's not. I feel trapped.
We're in the forest, nearing a spot I've been coming to every night for the past few days. I hesitate, but she doesn't question why.
She drops to the floor, legs stretched out as she tilts her face up, happy.
I'm going to end up destroying that soon.
I sit beside her, and smile and laugh along with her, enjoying her company even though what she feels for me is more. I don't mean to give her false hope: how was I ever supposed to know that things would change?
She leans forward and captures my mouth, hands fisting my hair as she swings her left leg over and positions herself in my lap.
Normally, before, I would have pulled away long before now, unable to deal with the barrage of pure lust that would spike, but I've allowed this to carry on.
I can feel her surprise, but she takes advantage and rocks a little, and while it feels… nice, it's not right.
This time I do stop her.
I manage a smile and tuck her hair behind her ear, an action that has become ingrained over time.
I wish that I still enjoyed it.
All of it—even the smallest parts I share with her.
Because I was so, so happy—finally, after solitude for years, I'd found my place. There was none of this torment, none of this constant worry and guilt.
I hear Charlie's cruiser pull into the drive. "Forks finest police chief has just come home," I tell her, her sigh washing over my face.
Charlie still isn't happy with me being around Bella again.
I can't blame him.
He'd been right.
I'm going to hurt her again.
She chews on her lip. "I think I should head back by myself—he probably won't be too pleased to see his only daughter come out of the forest and down the garden with boyfriend in tow."
"Okay. I'll see you later. Leave your window open."
Again, another thing that has become ingrained.
Another kiss and she's gone.
But I'm not alone.
"How long are you planning on just standing there?" I ask, knowing his exact position.
I don't care what he saw. I'm in no mood to feel sorry for him. Part of me believes he's the worst thing that has ever happened to me. Or at least, wants to believe.
But it's not true. Connections like these only occur once. Or, twice, in mine, even if the first wasn't meant to be.
This anger that overtakes on occasion is back, and I want to scream out at him again.
"Do you still love her?" he asks, strolling into view.
I snap a branch from the nearest tree. "No."
Another question.
"Do you love me?"
This time, no answer.
"Do you want her?"
I meet his gaze. "Not any more."
No hesitation. "Do you want me?"
Yes.
"I don't want to."
Hands in places that make me groan.
Lips on lips that take just as much.
Greedy, desperate, rough.
I go to take a step back.
"Please, don't pull away from me," he begs, his pain now my pain.
His tears are warm as they fall on my hand. I've caused this.
I hate him for making me feel this way, but at the same time know it's not entirely true. Against everything I think I should be feeling, everything I used to feel, I want this. Him. So when he starts to remove my shirt I don't stop him. And when my hands find the zipper to his jeans he simply helps.
His eyes travel up my naked form, lingering longer in certain places, and desire lights up inside me as quick as a struck match.
I want to feel his hands on me where I ache. I want to touch him in return and ignite this feeling inside my chest where there should be a beating heart—because what I'm feeling right now is heightened to the unthinkable… almost unbearable.
The fighting against it only made that connection stronger, more intense.
I've finally given up against the struggle.
I grab his hips from behind, and press myself against him, feeling so overwhelmed in this moment I start to tremble.
"Is this what you wanted?" I say harshly, my voice hoarse, the anger still present. This isn't how I imagined sharing this act… he took that away from me when he decided he wanted me for himself.
"You don't?"
And I can't answer him. Because I can't deny that I don't.
He lowers himself onto the forest floor, and I can do nothing but follow, my gaze gliding over so much bare skin I think it will never end.
He settles himself onto his stomach as I grip myself in my palm, pumping before I cover him completely, letting his warmth seep into my skin as he trails kisses along the inside of my arm, his touch sending sparks.
There is no going back from here.
Slowly, I push into him, his moan causing me to squeeze my eyes shut as my own pleasure shoots straight through me. My fingers curl into the soil, just like the first time I felt something with him; but this time I don't want to flee.
I pause, letting him adjust, his thoughts a wild mix of lust and want and pain. And then I start to move, short strokes at first that soon pick up in pace. Shallow grunts leave my mouth as his hands reach back and grab my flesh from behind, pushing me forward, a silent demand that doesn't match the screaming in his thoughts.
I can't think clearly, can only feel, my mind hazy as I push forward, again and again and again. His hips lift slightly and suddenly I'm deeper, my thrusts becoming harder with the new angle. I move a hand to his shoulder, skin slapping against skin as I slide my other hand from his hip to press down on the base of his spine, relentlessly driving deeper.
His groans of pleasure force me on—I never expected it to be so all encompassing. I feel complete with him like this, like I can't get close enough.
Is this what he feels, all the time? Hour after hour?
My mouth finds his shoulder, his harsh breathing hitting the ground as I meet his gaze.
I can't look away, I don't want to look away, and when he pushes himself up on his hands to bring his mouth to mine I don't deny him.
His tongue fills my mouth as I withdraw out of him, turning him over just like I know he wants, his legs locking around the top of my thighs as I push into him quickly this time, his breath hitting my lips as I pull back and do it again. Harder.
I'm shaking, the connection between us burning me inside out.
Chests heave as his hand slides down towards the trail of hair that starts at his abdomen, his palm wrapping around his hardness as he starts to push his pleasure further. I moan aloud as I watch him, shifting my hips in time with his movements, his other hand gripping my ass as his back starts to arch off the ground. He clenches around me as he climaxes, his body jerking as his hand slowly continues to pump.
His breaths become choking sobs of intense bliss—I'm experiencing his desire along with my own; everything is amplified, too much…
My eyes squeeze shut with a grunt from my mouth as I bury my face on the ground beside his, wave after wave hitting me until I slowly start to come back down, left with only slight tremors as the sensation finally abates.
For once, he's quiet, eyes closed as he catches his breath. Face finally relaxed.
I roll over and settle by his side, staring up into darkness that doesn't hinder my vision in the slightest.
I say nothing, and block out all sounds around me. Night has fallen.
I don't feel as I thought I would. Regret doesn't taint my being.
And when his hand touches mine, I don't flinch or pull away, like he's afraid I might. I let the connection soar as high as the stars that look down upon us.
This is a time I wish for dreams.
XXX
I'm sitting at Bella's desk as she finishes her homework, lip caught between teeth that no longer has any effect on me.
I'm building up to tell her the truth. Have been for days—have been for the last two hours we've been in this room.
"Can I talk to you for a minute?" I ask, moving to sit beside her on the bed.
She looks up and searches my face, heart beat quickening. She's nervous.
I take her hand and grip it with mine.
So am I, Bella. So am I.
"You can talk to me about anything, you know that."
I study her face, the look she's giving me now, knowing that this could be the last time I see something other than pure hatred.
I want to lock this smile away.
I take her other hand, my thumb ghosting over her fingers. "Bella, I-"
And the words I'm looking for don't come, trapped in my throat like a bird in a cage. I try again, willing them to flee, but it's useless.
"Edward?" she whispers, hand stroking the hair that rests over my forehead as she tries to catch my gaze. The tone of her voice and expression on her face makes me feel cowardice, and I simply can't do it.
"Nothing," I say, smiling, trying to appease.
She nods but continues to stare, worry still present. Her fingers trace under my eyes, following the pale bruises beneath.
I know Jacob is probably waiting for me, but at this moment, I don't want to see him either.
"I'm going to go hunt for a while," I say, getting to my feet.
"Okay," she smiles, kissing me once on the lips before letting me leave.
I pause at the back of her house, out of sight, still and unmoving as a statue. The internal struggling is eating away inside of me. The longer I say nothing, the worse it's going to become, I know this. And yet when I think I'm ready, when I think I'll finally do the right thing, I run.
I don't want to hurt either of them—I'd be naïve to think any of us could go on this way any further.
My family were already picking up on things, especially Alice. I would see her watching me when we were alone; hear her worrying.
But just like Jacob has been evading his pack, I've been doing exactly the same.
It's easier for him to hide in a sense, and yet, at the same time, worse. He would do nothing that could potentially hurt me; it is ingrained, part of the imprinting process. The other members of his pack wouldn't hear anything he didn't want them to when it came to me—it is as natural as breathing to him in that aspect. But then the physical needs; to always be near and touch, that isn't so easy to conceal.
And as if sensing my misery; twinges of regret and guilt, the other half of my missing soul pushes through the trees and is beside me in seconds.
"Do you want me to speak to her?"
I don't even have to tell him what's wrong.
I shake my head, staring at a gathering of birds circling above the trees, assessing if it's safe to go back and scour for food.
"What if she gets ill like before?" I wonder aloud, finally meeting his dark eyes that are filled with worry for me. Just like Bella's were minutes before.
"Then we'll help her, watch over her," he assures, gripping my shoulder tightly to drive the point home.
A bitter and pained laugh. "And what makes you think that she'll want anything to do with us after? We'd just make things worse."
He sighs. "But this time she won't be alone. Your family… Alice, they'll all still be here."
His words do nothing to soothe this… any of it.
His hands find the sides of my face. "You've done nothing wrong."
And I wish I could believe him.
Lips find each other and all else fades. I see and feel and hear nothing but him. I wish everything was as simple as this feeling right here.
I pull away and rest my forehead against his, tasting his breath on my tongue, when I hear it.
The beating of a heart I know so well.
Her face is frozen in shock. I'm suddenly a flurry of movement, a step away from her. "Bella."
"Don't," she sobs, taking a step back from me, an action that would have brought so much pain and torment only days before.
She looks between the two of us in disbelief. "What's going on here? I just saw… I just-"
And she can't even finish the sentence.
"Bella." This time it's Jacob's voice speaking her name.
Cheeks drained of all colour. "No! You hate each other!" she shouts, pointing at us both.
"Not anymore," Jacob confirms, hands stretched out to touch, to calm. "Let me explain."
She cries out, heavy tears rolling down her face to gather at her chin before falling. "I don't think I want to know. I can't, I can't do this."
Hysterical.
Pain.
I wrap her in my arms and ignore her struggle; her fists attempt to inflict pain. I cradle them as gently as I can—she'll only hurt more. And I don't want that. Above everything else, her safety is still important to me. Always will be.
"It happened so fast," he tells her, watching her face. "I came to see you—you were all I ever thought about—then Edward turns up to stop me from seeing you. There was nothing I could do."
Her face is a panting of confusion, brush strokes making no apparent sense. "What are you talking about? What does that even mean?"
He takes a steadying breath. "I imprinted."
Her confusion doesn't lesson.
"I found my soul mate."
And more sobs leave her mouth, mixed with confused laughter, her breathing irregular and threatening to make her dizzy. Her legs wobble and I whisper apologies and shhh, and I'm so, so sorry, Bella over and over.
She becomes limp in my arms, a rag doll with streaks down her face.
"I'm sorry," I tell her, louder this time, wanting to make her understand. It was never my intention to hurt her. I didn't ask for this, any of it, but now I have it.
Rejection was impossible. Doesn't she see that?
She turns to Jacob, her voice broken. "The whole time you pretended to be my friend, and what, you were just drawn to… him, instead?" Not Edward, but him. It stings, but I welcome it—it's what I deserve.
He shakes his head. "I never pretended, Bella. I loved you."
She flinches. "You're a liar."
Her eyes snap up to mine. "You both are."
"You can't mean that," I whisper, trying to calm her down.
Her expression will haunt me for years to come.
"You told me you'd always love me, Edward, so yeah, I do mean that." She wipes tears from her cheeks, skin blotchy and eyes red with the hurt we've both caused.
"I can't believe you'd do this to me," she chokes, eyes disbelieving, heart pumping a punishing rhythm.
I still worry. "Calm down, Bella."
Her tear-filled eyes, eyes that are still a part of me, but now not enough, flash with raw emotion. "You don't get to say things like that to me anymore!"
And I know it's true.
She starts to beg. "Please, please just let me go. You touching me, holding me like you care… I can't have you touch me!"
My arms fall away, molten fires that burn.
Alice is suddenly beside her, pulling her into her arms as she consoles her like a mother would her child.
I knew she'd turn up eventually.
She doesn't ask questions, she doesn't shout or scream. She leads Bella away into the house and I'm left with nothing but a white painted door and a guilt that will never, ever diminish.
I've never been more alone than in this very moment—all this hurt and confusion at my own hand—but then fingers link with mine, and I'm reminded of why I'm still here.
While we're both still here.
There is a fine line between love and hate, and when merged together, it becomes inseparable.
In the end, you can't fight fate. The future will happen.
And for better or worse, mine is currently still holding my right hand.
We sit like this, outside this house, at one once again in our anguish, until darkness falls, waiting for our next chapter.