A/N: Hey guys! This was my entry for Breath of Twilight's V-Day countdown. This is definitely something a little darker than I normally write, but most of you should be able to stomach it. Hope you enjoy it! If you're looking for a HEA, move along.

Also, I'm not Stephenie Meyer, so any recognizable names, places, etc. aren't mine. More's the pity.

A Love Eternal

Category: My Bloody Valentine

Pairing: Bella & Jasper

Rating: M

Texas

1863

Jasper PoV

"No."

The single word, whispered on a harsh sob, tore at the still air, desperate; pleading.

I reached for the pale, trembling hands clasped before me.

She may as well have slapped me for her response as she jerked away with a soft cry.

"No. No, Jasper!" Her beautiful face contorted with the panic that caused her words to become suddenly frantic. "No! You told me you wouldn't leave! You promised me you wouldn't leave me. I can't be without you! What if something happens to you? What if you don't come back? I can't…"

She gasped softly, as though the air in our small cabin had become too thick for her to breathe; as though the thought of my absence had caused her to forget the simple, life-sustaining act. Her soft lips were parted on the jagged inhalations and my own chest began to ache as she curled in upon herself defensively, a dull throb that pulsed with every beat of my heart.

"Isa, please, darlin'," I murmured soothingly. "Nothing's gonna happen. I'll be back before you know it."

I was pacifying her and we both knew it; erroneous promises that I shouldn't be making, promises that would mean nothing to a Union soldier on the battlefield. News of the casualties the Confederacy had suffered was coming in by post near daily now. Mrs. Buckley, on the next stead, had stopped receiving letters from her husband three weeks ago. But it was for those very reasons that I needed to go. I needed her to understand that I would gladly give my life if it meant putting an end to this damned war.

Hopelessness drew her lovely features into a mask of despair, and her eyes grew wide and haunted. I'd seen that look only once before and I'd promised us both that it would never cross her face again. Yet there it was, growing more despairing with every second that passed.

"You've already made up your mind," she murmured, awe coloring her tone. It wasn't a question.

"Yes," I agreed resolutely.

The chasm caused by my warring loyalties was widening by the moment, and every quiet sob that shook the slender shoulders of my wife, the single woman for whom I'd gladly face Hell for idolatry, caused me to question if I was making the right choice.

"The war efforts are important," I argued feebly. I wasn't certain if the words were for her benefit or my own.

She looked up at me, the cognac depths of her gaze drawing me in, bewitching me as easily as they had since the very first day I'd seen her. "But, I love you," she breathed, the smallest of smiles causing the corner of her lips to twitch. "I thought..." She shook her head, the words dying in her throat and she murmured, more to herself, it would seem, than to me. "It's not enough…"

I watched her cautiously for a moment, as her demeanor suddenly changed. What brought about the sudden stiffening of her spine? What caused her to wipe the remaining tears from her face as though they had never existed at all?

Her gaze met mine determinedly, and she grasped my hands tightly in her own, which I noticed were cold and trembling.

"I'm with child," she stated quietly.

I stared at her quietly for several long seconds, shock becoming awe becoming anger.

My wife had never employed wiles that other women seemed to find necessary in order to gain their own way, and I was sorely disappointed that it was now that she chose to do so, and with a contrivance that we had both been sincerely hoping for.

"Is that so?" I asked, careful to keep my voice level. She was watching me much as a skittish colt might, apprehensively trusting; hopeful.

She nodded slowly in response and a gentle smile pulled at the unwilling corners of her lips, slow and cautious, as though it wasn't quite sure that it belonged there. She must be wondering at my lack of enthusiasm.

"Isa, you only finished bleeding four days ago," I stated bluntly. "And we've only lain together twice since then. I have two sisters." The finality of that thought, that there was no way she could possibly know such a thing, even were it true… that she was lying to me, I left implied. I could understand doing rash things when times were desperate enough, but she had to understand that this type of coercion wasn't going to work on me. Not now. Not ever.

Her face fell and she pulled her hands from mine, an easy feat considering my own had gone lax.

"I knew it! I knew you wouldn't believe me." She rose, gathering her skirts in her hands as she began to pace, shaking her head swiftly back and forth. "I wanted to wait, because I knew you would surely think that this was an act. That I was just using this as some sort of ridiculous weapon… Not all women are like that, Jasper. Surely you know I wouldn't… Please!" she implored, striding up suddenly and taking one of my hands in both of hers. She laid it upon the flat expanse of her stomach, where her womb, which I'd begun to suspect was barren after the trauma of her previous fiancée, was located. "Please, believe me. I know that our child grows within me. I can feel it…"

I jerked away, causing her to stumble back, tears once more in her eyes. "No. I will not allow you to manipulate me like this, Isa. I…" I looked around, feeling as though the walls of the small home that I had built for us were slowly closing in, not unlike the decisions I thought I had previously been set upon.

I had to get out.

"I'm…I'm going down to the stream. I'll be back for supper." I rose swiftly, forcing myself to ignore the hurt in her eyes. It was no easy feat.

The door reverberated behind me, the sound ringing hollowly, echoing sharply off the dense forest that shrouded our small home in shadow as twilight fell.

The evening air was cool, but did nothing to soothe my aching head. Each step brought not the quiet whisper of the dense undergrowth, but my beloved's words, her pleas and arguments warring with the knowledge of what the men of the Confederacy suffered; men who were willing to die for what they believed in. Was it really so cowardly to want nothing more than to stay nestled in the sanctuary of my home with my wife and raise the family that we both wanted so badly? I couldn't believe that any decent man would fault me for it.

Sighing heavily, I shook my head, pushing aside the heavy brush that guarded a small clearing Isabella and I had come across shortly after purchasing the land. Though it was near enough to the border of both our home and the neighboring homestead, we were fairly certain that we were the only ones who knew of its existence.

Imagine my surprise, then, when I strode up the path and found the dying rays of sunlight reflected on a pair of very bare, very feminine shoulders.

I immediately turned away, blushing as I hadn't done since I was a boy.

"Sorry, ma'am," I immediately stuttered, shaking my head. "Didn't realize anyone else would be here."

I wasn't sure if I should stay where I was and wait for a response or simply head back in the direction from which I'd come. Neither seemed particularly polite and my mama would roll over in her grave to think that I treated a woman with any kind of disrespect. Unfortunately, we'd never gotten around to covering what I should do if I came across a naked woman in the middle of the woods, trespassing on my property. I was pretty sure that I wasn't supposed to shoot her.

Water trickled, interrupting my thoughts, and the woman laughed; a quiet, sultry sound. An invitation.

"That's quite alright, handsome. You're welcome to join me, if you'd like."

The flagrant proposition, combined with the husky melody of her voice did something to me that I neither liked nor wanted. I shifted uncomfortably.

"That's quite alright, ma'am. I'm a happily married man."

"Why's a happily married man wandering the woods at dusk, rather than spending time with his lovely wife, hm?" She purred the question, and I frowned as I realized her voice sounded quite a bit closer.

I took a few steps toward the line of trees, wanting to keep my distance.

"Speaking of, this really isn't the best place for a woman, particularly this time of day. There's all sorts of predators you've got to watch out for out here."

She laughed in response and the hair at the nape of my neck rose. Something wasn't right.

"I'll have to keep that in mind," she murmured. "You can turn around now, I'm decent."

Not trusting her words, thinking that Isa would have my head, and maybe a few other parts, if she came across me in this situation, I cast a quick glance over my shoulder. Sure enough, the woman was dressed, but just barely. I noticed more about her than I wanted to.

She had dark hair; wet curls that trailed down to the rounded curve of her hips. Her skin was dusky yet ashen, reminding me of dry, cracked earth that had been without water for too long. She seemed to be glittering in the dying rays of sunlight, something I attributed to the water still clinging to her. She'd donned her shift and knickers. They didn't leave much to the imagination.

"Better?" she asked teasingly, and my gaze flew to her face. Something was off. My instincts were telling me to get the hell out of there, but my brain was telling me that I ought to make sure she was alright.

I cleared my throat. "Uh, yeah. Thank you."

She nodded absently, plucking the rest of her clothes from the nearby trees. "Do you live around here?"

"Do you?" I countered.

Again, she laughed. "I'm staying with my aunt, Belinda Buckley? I believe you're acquainted."

My frown deepened. Mrs. Buckley had never mentioned any brothers or sisters in her previous visits with Isa. In fact, I was fairly certain that she'd told us she lost her only sister to cholera as a child.

"Is that so?" I drawled easily. I didn't bother to hide my disbelief.

Her eyes, so dark they seemed almost black, narrowed on me.

"Yes it is," she replied coldly.

"And your name is?" I made it a demand.

"Maria."

"I see."

We eyed each other warily.

"The least you could do, after barging in on an unmarried young woman while she was undressed and then impertinently demanding such information is give her your name, hm?" There was a malicious glint in her eye that suddenly made me glad I hadn't given her any indication of where I lived; I didn't think she'd hesitate to run right to Isa and claim that I took advantage of this situation.

"Jasper," I replied quietly. "And you seem like you can make it home from here, so I'll just be leaving."

She giggled, a high, abrasive sound that made me flinch.

"I don't think so, Jasper."

I turned away, deciding it was time to tell my head to quiet up and follow my intuition. There was something about this young woman, something not quite right…

She was on me in a heartbeat, the heavy weight of her body a surprise, considering how slight she was. Her momentum, as she leapt onto my back, sent me stumbling forward into a tree, where my head met the rough bark with a resounding crack.

Her laughter echoed in my mind as I fell back, staring up at the darkening sky, my head spinning.

"I've been looking for a proper southern gentleman for a long time, Jasper," Maria murmured, stroking icy fingers over my forehead, where I felt blood pooling. "You have no idea how many absolutely lecherous men are out there, willing to take advantage of a poor young woman on her own."

Looking now, I could see that her eyes were, indeed, black as pitch; soulless. Lifeless.

"What are you?" I gasped, attempting to push her hand away. She batted my protests away as one might a fly.

She chuckled. "All in good time, darling. For now, we have your nasty little mortality to deal with."

It took several moments for the words to sink in; to reach that part inside of me that knew dying was not an option. She wasn't a lonely, deranged girl bent on seduction. She was something else entirely. Something I couldn't begin to fathom in earthly terms, and she meant to kill me.

I began to struggle in earnest against the beautiful woman and her inhuman strength.

She tsked, tightening her arms around me until there was a splintering crack. I tried to contain the cry of pain that left me, but it was too much. Agony shattered up my spine and my legs were suddenly numb.

"Please," I gasped. "My wife. You can't…"

"Can't I?" she interrupted. "You were going to leave her to her own fate anyway. You were going to give up your life to this silly little war that won't even be a passing thought in fifty years. And what a waste that would have been. Instead, I will grant you something eternal, a gift that will allow you to look past the mortals and their petty problems. The gift of immortality."

"I don't want…"

But the time for talk had passed and something crossed her face that made me realize there would be no negotiating with this monster. I struggled to remain silent as she leaned close, her breath sweet and inviting as it bathed my flushed face. She lingered there, just above me for a moment, searching my gaze; for what, I couldn't say.

And then there was pain.

Unlike anything I had ever experienced.

And memories.

Memories flashing swiftly through my mind.

My mother, in a flowered apron, smudges of flour on her face as she laughingly sang along with my brother and I; and the coffin that now held her. Isabella's thin, terrified face peering around the broad shoulder of her fiancée the first time she came to have her horse shod. Her pained cries that drew me to the alley in which he was roughly using her. His face, surprised as it stared lifelessly up at the rifle in my hand, and my shock that I felt no regret, no guilt at my actions.

With a gasp, the creature that held me drew back, what I recognized as my blood dripping from her chin.

"Not so innocent after all," she purred gleefully.

I had no strength to respond, even if the incredible burning that was spreading into my limbs had left me coherent enough to form a thought.

"Now this may hurt a bit," Maria whispered softly, as though soothing an ailing child. "And I do so wish there was another way, but we all must suffer for our immortality."

Suffering was an understatement. I couldn't even hear my own screams, though I felt them torn from my throat as wave after dark wave of torment rippled through me, leaving nothing untouched.

I felt I would go mad from the pain.

I couldn't know if it'd been seconds or days as the passage time became inconsequential, nothing mattered now but the flames that had engulfed me.

And just when I was certain that I couldn't suffer another moment for fear of my sanity, it began to ease. I could suddenly breathe without the air scorching my lungs, and the dirt beneath me no longer felt like a bed of hot coals.

With each passing moment, I felt that perhaps I could endure another.

Until there was nothing but the quiet sounds of night creatures and my own ragged breathing.

I opened my eyes.

And gasped.

To someone that had never seen with these new eyes, it would be impossible to express just how…beautiful everything was. Despite the moon, hanging ripe and low in the sky, I could see every nuance of color, every shiver of each tiny leaf brought about by the wind.

How…?

I was on my feet as soon as I thought to perform the action.

I felt… Good. Amazing even. As though I would never tire.

And what I could hear… I could hear everything. The cricket near my foot, the two toads in the pond, the owl sitting in the tree in Mrs. Buckley's front yard…

Isabella…

"Blonde hair? Blue eyes? Perhaps a head taller than I?"

"Yes ma'am. I found him unconscious, a couple miles from here. Yours was the closest house I could find."

Maria…

The sound of their steps drew closer and I froze, on the verge of flight. My mind felt hazy, memories that I knew should be readily available darting in and out of my grasp like so much sand. That was my wife… Wasn't she?

They broke the line of trees and I heard a quiet sob.

"Jasper!"

Her soft, warm body hit mine, hard, and I felt her trembling hands wandering over me, no doubt checking me for injury. Maria stood back, watching us, a sneer curling her lips.

"Oh my God, where have you been? What happened to you? I was so worried! Please, don't ever… We can talk about your decision to join the army, just please don't do anything like this ever again!"

The army… I wanted to join the army; to help my fellow men and put an end to the madness. Isabella didn't want me to go.

Her hands, like twin flames, pressed to my cheeks, forcing me to look at her.

She looked tired, I decided. Dark circles marring the fragile skin beneath her eyes, faded tracks that smelled of salt leading down her cheeks. Her hair was in wild disarray, and one of her shoes wasn't on completely.

"Jasper?" she murmured, her warm breath brushing my lips, bathing my nose.

Dear God, the scent of her. Of her… blood.

And the burning was back, focused this time, in my throat. Scorching and dry, as though I'd been without water for my entire life. But it wasn't water that I thirsted for…

My gaze was drawn to the steady pulse, beating wildly in the neck of the human in my arms. My wife, I reminded myself.

"Jasper?" She tried again, and our eyes met.

I watched as her expression swiftly changed from loving concern to terrified fright.

"What…?" she began to back away from me. "Your eyes… What's happened to you?"

And I suddenly realized that what Maria had 'gifted' me with was naught but a curse, disguised with beautiful trappings.

"Get out of here," I whispered gruffly. "Get away from me!"

Her escape was blocked by Maria, who grasped my wife tightly by the shoulders.

"Now, now. Is that any way to treat your wife, who has been worried near to death about you for days? You should give her a proper kiss in welcome."

She shoved Isabella back into my arms, but not before dragging her fingernails roughly up Isa's inner arm, drawing four, long gashes.

The smell… Dear God the smell of her blood, exposed to me now. Floral, sweet, ambrosial… It caused something within me to become unleashed. It pushed the memories of the man I used to be into a dark corner where I no longer had to face them. I clutched her tiny frame against me, tasting her fear on the air around us.

"What has she done? Please, Jasper, let's leave this place. Come home. Please…"

I took her face in my hands, struck, even now, by the fragile beauty before me. "I'm sorry," I whispered, before the last vestiges of humanity were stricken from my thoughts.

I kissed her and something passed between us. An understanding of sorts.

She knew what was to come. For she wrapped her arms about my neck and returned the bruising kiss with all of the passion in her. She clung to me desperately, her fingers twining in my hair as I nuzzled at her neck; something unholy demanding that I bite, rip, tear, and drink.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry," I murmured, over and over against her skin.

"Shhh, it's okay. I forgive you. I love you, Jasper," she whispered, her hands pulling me closer to the source of my thirst.

Was I truly going to destroy the best thing that had ever…

Her blood filled my mouth, easing the desperate ache that had scalded my throat. It was unlike anything that I could have ever imagined. Hot, sweet and wild. I wanted more… Her trembling hands stroked my hair as I drained her of lifeblood. I drank greedily, giving no thought to the pain of my savagely sharp teeth ripping into her throat

As her pulse began to die away, her thoughts invaded my mind, clamoring wildly, much as my own had done. I was bombarded with every happy memory she had of us, every laugh, every kiss, every warm night in our bed. I silently vowed to hold on to those thoughts, to remember who I was and never let this beast take over again.

With Maria's cold laughter serving as the background to our tragedy, I finally lay the still body of my wife upon the ground, wondering what I had become.

And the question was immediately answered as my newly-sensitive hearing picked up a heartbeat. Not that of my wife's, which had stopped as I so ruthlessly murdered her, but another, from deep within her body. A small, hummingbird pulse that was desperately attempting to sustain itself now that its provider was gone.

A child.

My child.

Roaring to the callous heavens, gathering the body of my wife and child close to my chest, I realized.

I was a monster.


Forks, Washington

Present Day

"Wow! This place is great! Are you sure that it's in my price range?"

I stirred.

"Oh yes, Ms. Swan. It's well within your price range. A bit under, in fact."

The demon stirred.

"What? How's that possible? The last place we looked at was half this size, if that, and twice as much."

Perhaps it was he who had awoken first, though it really was of no consequence now.

She was here.

Long dormant senses sprang to life, resisting my tenuous grasp in their deprivation as they reached outward, like the grasping fingers of a curious child.

I inhaled sharply, for the first time in over a decade, allowing the overwhelming scent of decay, sweet yet bitter, to swim headily through me. Hoary, rotting pine. Molding foliage. A pungent hint of ocean spray upon the rain-soaked air. It had always smelled as such.

The next breath brought with it my beautiful anomaly. Her scent was nearly suffocated by that of the revolting woman she was with, cloying saccharine perfume saturating the air around them in a malodorous cloud, but I'd have been a fool not to recognize it.

Subtle in its beauty, just as she had always been, her scent was enough to cause a ravenous stirring in the tattered remains of my trousers. Vanilla shrouded her skin, while the call of her blood was citric, promising a tart bite to the ambrosial offering; it was perpetual. Eternal.

"Well, it's a lot of house for just one person, Ms. Swan. And most folks who are looking to settle down just buy outright. But I thought you might be able to appreciate it, what with your interest in astrology. This is the oldest habitable house in Forks."

Their voices, though filtering down through the moldering, arenaceous floorboards, were easily heard as though the speakers were standing not a foot away. She sounded precisely as I'd remembered; her voice an effeminate alto, languid and honeyed.

"Archaeology," my love's sweet voice corrected patiently. "And please, call me Bella."

Bella.

Her incarnations had taken many monikers over the years. There had been Lydias and Katrinas, Persephones and Cassandras, her most recent had been the lovely Juliette, but there had never been another Bella.

Perhaps this time...

"Archaeology, that's right." For a moment there was naught but the quiet whisper of their steps. "So, what do you think?"

Her husky laughter caused my loins to tighten, and I clenched my fist, surprised to hear a sharp crack, before my hand was filled with the dust of whatever I'd been holding. A glance revealed the remains of a skeletal human hand.

Ah, sweet Juliette.

If only you'd accepted me for what I was. If only your beautiful visage hadn't become a mask of horror and disgust as you realized that I was not the man you believed me to be.

I carefully disengaged myself from the remains of the most recent of my failures, sighing heavily; she'd held such promise, with her open mind and love of all things paranormal and inhuman.

Sadly, her love was unable to extend outside the realms of fiction.

I'd have to put her with the others.

"I love it! Where do I sign?"

Isabella's voice drew me from the macabre parade my thoughts had become, and I found myself smiling.

There were preparations to be made.


"Hey Bob, it's Marilyn Cope, just wanted to let you know that I signed that old house on Fir Street, to an impulsive little thing that just moved up here from Florida. A pretty, young brunette, just like you said she'd be… -nervous chuckle- Anyway, she's moving in right away, and I've got the signed lease with me, so I'll be expecting that bonus on my desk, first thing Monday morni-. -car door slams- "Uh… Hello? I think you must have the wrong car, this is… Oh my God, are you alright? You look terrible… Sir? Hello, Sir, can you hear me? Do you need help? Can I do anything, take you to the hospital, or… Wait, what are you doing? Get away from me! Don't! No! Please! Stop! Sto- -CRACK-… … …"

-Beep-

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I watched silently from the shadows for nearly a week.

Watched as my Isabella unpacked box after box of books and CDs. Watched as she meticulously placed her decorative artifacts and family photos on the walls. Watched as she ate her dinner in front of the television, though she wasn't even remotely interested in what was on; a novel held in one hand, her fork in the other. It was impossible not to notice that she hated silence.

I allowed myself to grow accustomed to the subtle perfume of her blood, familiarized myself with the rhythmic, muted beat of her heart, listened to the steady thrum of life, pulsing through her veins. I wasn't so foolishly in love as to believe my control infallible, I knew that I wouldn't be able to resist her without first desensitizing myself. I'd made that mistake with Melody. Poor girl hadn't lasted a day.

Thus, I watched, collecting information as I skulked about our shared home, leaving nothing more than the impression of a shadow in her mind when her eyes were inevitably drawn to me.

Her favorite breakfast food was scrambled eggs. She spoke in her sleep. She hated to go barefoot. She disliked dogs and was afraid of ice. She could barely walk upon a flat surface without tripping over some imagined obstacle.

With each passing day, I was struck anew at the likeness she bore to the woman I'd loved so many years ago. It wasn't just the delicate, feminine features; her intelligent, tawny eyes, and the soft tumble of mahogany curls. No, the similarities went so much deeper than the fair, willowy limbs and the soft curves, though it must be said that of any of the others, she bore the most uncanny resemblance.

She was intelligent, almost frighteningly so for a human. Her quick wit and sound mind were often of amusement to me as I kept vigil. Much of her solace, it seemed, came from the written word, and it was rare to find her without one classic or another close at hand. She wrote often, on a small, personal computer; academically and for her own satisfaction. She wrote of ancient civilizations and her mother's laughter; crumbling clay pottery dug up in Japan and the frustration that came with her parents' divorce.

She was compassionate. I unabashedly eavesdropped as she consoled her mother and placated her father. Was amazed as she listened for hours to a young woman called Rosalie complain of a man named Emmett, and gratified as she gently, yet resolutely, advised a Jessica that Forks was her home now, and she wasn't going to be coming back.

When feasible, she put others' well being before her own. She was pleasant. Well-mannered. Loyal, ingenuous, beautiful, articulate, charitable.

She was an angel.

A paragon.

I could find no faults, though if I were honest with myself, I would admit that I wasn't particularly looking thoroughly. I didn't want to find any. She was perfect.

It was beyond reason, then, for me to imagine that someone else hadn't already noticed all of these things about her.

Precisely one week after her arrival, she received a call.

"Hello?"

"Wow, it is so good to hear your voice."

"Edward!"

I felt my eyes narrowing as she clutched the phone more tightly. Her pulse had quickened, and there was a softness to her gaze that I'd never seen before.

"Hey love. How're you doing? Was the drive up okay? Did you make it in once piece?"

"Yep. I only broke a couple of dishes, but considering my coordination, I'd say we're still under par."

They both laughed at the shared joke of her ungainliness.

"I can't talk for too long, I've got another lecture in about fifteen minutes, but I just wanted to let you know that I was finally able to book a flight out of here. Can you pick me up at the airport tomorrow, say five o'clock?"

"Really? Yes, I will absolutely be there tomorrow at five! Do you want me to bring your sister? Your parents?"

The man, this Edward, laughed, and my Bella's heart raced. "Nah, I can see Alice some other time, I just want some time alone with you. I still can't believe I wasn't able to be there when you arrived."

Bella smiled, shaking her head, though the man on the other end couldn't see. "It's alright. We'll see each other tomorrow, right?" She sighed, a wistful sound that made my fists clench. "I've missed you so much."

"Missed you too, love. You know… Maybe tomorrow, you could wear those little blue lacy shorts that I like so much?"

She blushed, a bright pink that suffused her flesh from cheeks to chest. The smell of her blood, pooling so close beneath the surface of her skin was almost too much, particularly in my current frame of mind.

Who the hell was this Edward fellow, and what would it take to be rid of him?

"Edward!" It was an admonishment, but not a very firm one.

"What?" His laughter this time was quiet, intimate. "What are you wearing right now?"

Bella gave a slight squirm, glancing around furtively for a moment, before lying back on the couch, her fingertips brushing a soft pattern over her stomach. Surely she wouldn't answer him? A respectable young woman would tell him that he was being inappropriate and hang up the telephone!

"Mmm, just the usual. PJ pants and a tank top."

Edward chuckled. "And socks, I'm sure."

She smiled. "Of course."

They were both silent for a moment. "What've you got on underneath?" he finally asked.

Fury boiled up within me. Who did he think he was? Talking to my wife like some common tramp? I wanted to tear the phone out of her hands and smash it to bits. I wanted to rip the boy's tongue from his mouth so that he could never utter such foul things to my Isabella again.

Rather than the outrage she should have displayed, she giggled throatily.

"Remember that red lace set you got me last Valentine's Day?"

Edward simply groaned in response and the sudden, sweet scent of Bella's arousal hit me.

It took everything in me not to take her in my arms right then and there and remind her just who she belonged to.

"It's a shame that you don't have a little longer so that we could finish this discussion properly." Her sigh was exaggerated. "I mean, you don't have a few extra minutes, right?"

No. This couldn't be. There wasn't supposed to be another man. It was only me. I would arrive at her door, the friendly neighbor welcoming her. She would invite me in. We would enjoy a cup of coffee (mine surreptitiously finding its way into the nearest potted plant) and I would ask her to accompany me to a film. She would grow to love me and I would take her as mine for eternity.

There was no Edward!

I forced myself to escape through the nearest window as the pathetic human man decided that, imagine that, he did have a bit of extra time on his hands. My growls were sure to draw the attention of my unwitting housemate if I'd have stayed any longer.

I found myself at the nearest pay phone, pulling the white pages out and flipping through them at inhuman speed. There were hundreds of Edwards. But thanks to the impertinent idiot, I had a second factor. Alice.

I thumbed through the entire book in a matter of minutes, doing it a second time to ensure that I had not erred.

Sure enough, there was only one surname that yielded both an Edward and an Alice.

Cullen.

Edward Cullen.

I felt my lips twisting in a horrible mockery of a smile.

I certainly hoped that Mr. Cullen wasn't overly fond of living, because I would have my Isabella.

At any cost.


"Robert? Jasper here. I just wanted to thank you, once again, for your assistance in the matter of my home on Fir Street. She's exquisite. Perfect. There is the minor complication of a young man named Edward Cullen, but it's nothing I can't handle, and I'm certain you would have informed me if you had known of said complication. I truly believe that this will be the last time you hear from me. Let's hope so, hm? Oh, and I do apologize for Mrs. Cope, but I'm certain the extra funds that have been transferred into your account should more than make up for that minor mishap. Give my regards to Emily and the children. Goodbye."

-Beep-

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Bella PoV

Something was up.

I couldn't quite put my finger on what it was, exactly, but ever since I'd moved into the beautiful old home on Fir Street, well… honestly, I'd just been feeling really creeped out.

It had been such a fantastic deal that I hadn't even thought twice when the realtor asked me to sign on the dotted line. But now… Well, my initial thoughts of moving in with my father Charlie, as unpalatable as they were, were actually starting to hold some appeal.

Everything had been fine for the first couple of days. I did the usual moving in stuff. I ate pizza while sitting on the floor surrounded by a virtual castle of boxes, basking in the potential that was the blank canvas of my new place. I arranged the furniture, rearranged it, then moved it all back to where I'd originally placed it. I hung up pictures of friends and family, leaving room amidst the memories of my past for those I planned to make for the future.

But most of all, I excitedly contemplated what my life would be like now that I was so close to Edward.

We'd met three years ago at an anthropology lecture convention in Jacksonville, Florida; he for his medical degree and I for my archaeology Masters. Now I have to say, I'm a pretty down to Earth girl. The idea of love at first sight had always been a fairly ridiculous notion in my eyes. But when I saw Edward, every preconceived notion I had about what love was and what is was supposed to be vanished. A single glance of those beautiful green eyes and that messy bronze mop that he called hair was all it took for me to fall; completely and irrevocably. Never mind the crooked half smile that made my heart do things that would probably make my doctor seriously concerned, or the fact that when he finally garnered the courage to break our staring contest and come talk to me, I couldn't find the breath to so much as say hello.

It was the best anthropology convention I'd ever attended.

Unfortunately, by the end of the weekend we'd realized we were both been so deeply entrenched in the academia at our respective schools that there was no question of either of us relocating, despite the almost bizarre providence of him being from the small town in Washington where my father lived.

So for three long years, we did the long distance thing, investing in webcams and long distance calling plans. I didn't even want to think about how many of his parents' frequent flyer miles went towards birthdays, anniversaries, and Valentine's Days.

But now, we could be together. Actually together, and that made every decision governed by my heart a good one.

Reject the internship with a well-respected and brilliant professor of archaeology? Check. Move to Forks where my job prospects were obsolete at best? Sure, why not? Rent a creepy old house that apparently hadn't been inhabited in ten years? Yep.

Risk everything to be within driving distance of the man that I loved with everything I was?

Best decision I ever made.

That first week was filled with nothing but how I planned to spend every hour, waking or otherwise, with Edward.

Sure, the house was kind of old and smelled a bit moldy, but it cost half of what my much smaller apartment had in Jacksonville. And so, it sometimes (always) felt like I was being watched, but I was probably just being paranoid, right? Too many scary movies or something.

But the following Monday, a week before Valentine's Day, things really started to get strange.

I woke up and did the usual morning things; made my bed, ate some breakfast, showered and brushed my teeth. And just as I was settling in with my worn copy of Wuthering Heights and cup of cocoa to ward off the cold that seemed to constantly permeate the old floorboards, the door bell rang.

I wasn't expecting anyone, but in a town this small the gossip of a new resident traveled fast. I suspected it was probably one of the local Suzy Homemakers bringing me a pie, hoping to catch a glimpse of something unseemly so she could report in to the neighborhood rumormonger society.

Smoothing my hair down absently, I opened the door, the most sincere smile I could manage plastered on my face. Only to find that no one was there.

I stepped out into the frigid wind, frowning and tugging my sleeves down over my hands.

"Hello?"

No answer but the rustling of a cold breeze moving through the twisting, gnarled branches of the trees.

I really hoped this wasn't the local kids' idea of a joke. Because twelve months of ding-dong-ditch was really not an idea that appealed to me. And if that was the case, Marilyn was going to be getting an ear full. If she ever bothered to return my calls. As it was, I was trying to move some of my things to the basement, only to find that the key she'd given me, the one she claimed would work on every door in the old house, didn't even fit into the old brass doorknob. Now I was going to have to haul as much as I could up into the attic, or hope that the woman finally got back to me.

Shaking my head, I turned back to the house, stopping short, my heart hammering a wild tattoo in my chest as I realized that a dozen red roses, in a beautiful crystal vase, now stood between me and the door.

How…?

I whirled back around, hoping to catch a glimpse of Edward's beautiful smile; thinking that somehow he'd managed to get Alice to sneak in or… Or… I didn't know what, exactly.

But there was nothing save for the heavy gray clouds, rolling across the sky, and the barren, icy landscape.

I cautiously bent to pick up the vase, the hairs at the nape of my neck prickling. I could almost swear that someone was watching me.

Pulling the screen door open, I quickly ran into the house, slamming the door behind me and locking it sharply. I leaned against the cold, heavy wood, silently chastising myself. Why was I acting so strangely? Edward probably just left them and drove off quickly. As a pre-Valentine's Day surprise.

Still, as I set the flowers on the kitchen table, I found myself taking a step back to peer at them cautiously.

And it was then that I noticed a small white card, nestled amidst the thorns and leaves.

I reached for it, drew back, before shaking my head with a rueful chuckle and plucking the envelope free. I untucked the flap, drawing a plain square of what felt like parchment out, and found, written in an elegant scrawl that I didn't recognize:

Bella, my love

I'm so glad that you've finally returned to me

Eternity awaits

I stared at the note, turning the words over in my mind.

The first two lines, well those were obvious. But, eternity awaits? Edward was a romantic guy, but that was a bit much, even for him.

I'd have to be sure to ask him about it.

The following day, as I sat down to breakfast, the doorbell rang.

This time, I found a book of poetry with a beautiful red lace bow tied around it.

Wednesday, a box of my favorite chocolates.

Thursday, a new copy of Wuthering Heights.

By Friday, I'd made up my mind that it had to be Edward who was either delivering the gifts, or having someone do it for him, because no one else knew me well enough to choose such thoughtful items. I hadn't had a chance to ask him about it yet, he'd been on call at the hospital nearly all week, but I had plans to see him today, so I'd get the chance to thank him.

The phone rang as I was stacking boxes next to the thin staircase that led up to the attic.

"Hello?"

"Bella, love."

"Hey, Edward. How are you? How's the hospital?"

He sighed. "Busy as ever. Look, I'm sorry to do this to you, but I think I have to cancel for tonight. One of the interns is sick, and there's really no one else to cover for him."

I tried to hide my disappointment as best as I was able, but I was fairly sure that some of it still leaked into my voice.

"That's alright. Will I see you this weekend?"

"I'm so sorry, love. If there was anyone else to cover, you know I'd… I just really need to do well here. I can't stand the thought of everyone thinking that I only made resident because of my father…"

"I know. It's okay, really. This weekend, though?"

"I've got a shift on Saturday," he admitted. "But Sunday I thought you might like to join me at the Valentine's Day masquerade ball?"

I groaned, I didn't even attempt to hide it. "Edward, you know how I feel about dancing."

He laughed softly and my resistance began to melt. "Come on, sweetheart. I'll keep you upright, I promise. Besides, Alice already got us the invitations."

"Alright," I caved with a sigh. "I suppose it's the least I could do after all the wonderful gifts you've given me already. Thank you, by the way. My copy of Wuthering Heights was about one read away from completely disintegrating."

The silence that met my thanks seemed to drag on for hours.

Finally, he responded with a simple and eloquent, "Huh?"

I frowned, not liking where this was going. "Uh, you know. The roses you left on the doorstep? And the books? The candy?" My voice was growing more urgent as each item I listed was met by nothing even resembling recognition.

"Sounds to me like you have a secret admirer, Bella," he laughed. I noted that the sound was slightly strained.

I could understand, considering I was feeling a bit unsteady myself.

"Wait, you seriously didn't leave any of that stuff?"

"Wasn't me. I'll check with Alice, maybe she's been trying to cover for me, since I've been so busy."

Alice. Right. Of course. It was Alice. It had to be Alice.

"Okay. I'll see you on Sunday, Edward."

"I'll pick you up at seven."

"Sounds good. I love you."

"Love you too, sweetheart. Bye."

I frowned as I realized I'd wandered into dining room, only to find myself staring face to face with the flowers in question.

Setting the phone down, pretending my hand wasn't trembling slightly, I laughed at myself.

"It was just Alice. You know how she's always trying to protect Edward. She probably just didn't want me to feel bad that he's been so busy. That has to be it."

I put the subject out of my mind, refusing to question it any further. Even if it wasn't Alice, what was the harm in a couple of gifts from someone that hadn't even deigned to show their face yet?

Only the fact that whoever the secret gift-giver is seems to know you as well as Edward does, meaning he's either a stalker or…

I shook my head. Nope. Not going there.

I meandered back to the door leading up to the attic, beginning the tedious project of carrying everything that wasn't too heavy up there.

Christmas ornaments, a few extra small appliances that Charlie had thought I might need, boxes of old baby clothes.

It took me almost two hours to get everything stowed away.

I finally collapsed onto the dusty floorboards with a sigh, wishing Edward had been around to make the job easier.

My head lolling lazily to one side, I noticed a small, dusty box, eroded to almost nothing, shoved beneath one of the built in shelves on the wall. If not for the tiny glint of something glittering, I'd have never noticed it.

I looked around warily, feeling slightly like a kid about to go snooping through someone else's things, as I leaned over and pulled it out of its hiding place.

It was covered in cobwebs and a layer of dust that would make even the most lazy housekeeper grimace, and I almost reconsidered my curiosity, but I was stopped short as I caught a glimpse of what was inside.

What…?

I tore open the deteriorating panels of cardboard, frowning.

Inside where photographs. Photographs of women. At first glance, some seemed incredibly old, as old as a hundred years, I'd guess, and some were more recent.

I began to look through them hastily, trying to ignore what my mind was screaming at me.

It was impossible. There was no way.

I grasped a handful of the dozens of pictures, shaking my head mutely.

They all looked like me.

Not identically, of course, but enough like me that there was no way that this was a coincidence. Long brown hair, wide brown eyes. In some pictures, the women were laughing, in some they stared somberly into the camera. In a few, they seemed completely terrified. I dropped them all back into their box, kicking it away as fear-fueled adrenaline coursed its way icily through my veins.

"What the hell is going on?" I whispered to myself. "There's no way…"

Scrambling to my feet, I hurtled down the stairs, slamming the door and locking it in my wake.

Something was definitely up.


"Um, yes, hello. This message is for Bob Mackey. Mr. Mackey, this is Isabella Swan, I believe you own the property that I'm currently renting? The, uh, house on Fir Street? Anyway, I got the skeleton key from Marilyn when I moved in, but it doesn't seem to open the basement. I was wondering if you possibly had the key for that room? I have quite a few things that I'd like to store in there. Also, Marilyn hasn't been returning any of my calls and I'm a little worried about her, so if you hear from her, let her know to call me? Please? … … … Okay, and I know this is kind of, unorthodox, but I was wondering if I could get any information about the previous residents of the house, or the previous owners maybe? I know you probably can't really give me that information, but it's just… There have just been some odd things happening, and it's probably just my imagination but any help would be greatly appre-"

-Beep-

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Jasper PoV

My Bella was frightened.

Though it wasn't something I wished upon her it was, unfortunately, not to be helped. The love we shared was often overwhelming in its intensity, so much so that even I found myself afraid at times, but soon enough, she would see that she had nothing to fear in me.

In us.

The human whelp to which she desperately clung was so incredibly undeserving of her that I could barely stand to let him live another day, but without realizing, he'd offered me not only the simplest of solutions to his demise, but also a way to get closer to my beloved.

The Valentine's Day Masquerade Ball.

I'd discontinued my constant monitoring of Isabella, knowing that she felt the weight of my gaze upon her, knowing it caused her disquiet that she was unable to ascertain my location. I wanted her to feel comfortable in our home.

Our time was coming.

Sunday evening, I visited the nearest costumer, donning a poor imitation of a Confederate soldier's uniform; I found the choice to be morbidly amusing. I also stopped briefly into a pharmacy, procuring and applying some cosmetics that colored my hair a deep, sandy bronze. It was hardly a perfect match, but human eyes often saw only what they wished to.

I arrived at the ball, shortly after my wife and her mortal pup, the crush of humans filling the historic mansion as inviting a feast as I'd ever seen, but I maintained my iron clad grasp on my control. To reveal myself now would be beyond foolhardy.

I watched from the shadows in which I felt the most home, watched the lovely vision of my Isabella. She was resplendent in a shimmering gown of deep navy, her long curls swaying sensually down her back. Her laughter rang out like a chorus of melodic bells, the sight of her lush lips, parted on the beautiful sound causing my patience to wane.

She danced with the man who thought to make her his, as well as many others. Each time I listened to her comment on her lack of grace, familiar and self deprecating. Yet with each dance, I found I could not tear my eyes away from her. When she was near, there were no others. My bloodlust faded into the background, while my need for her grew.

The night wore on, the timeless music of waltzes blending into one another, until finally, the moment I had awaited was upon me.

Her mortal companion excused himself, promising to return in a moment. If only he knew that that would be the last promise made and broken to my Isabella.

I followed Edward to the men's room, waiting for its single other occupant to exit, before entering myself and locking the door behind me. He stood at the urinal, staring at the ceiling. I wondered, for a moment, at his thoughts, before moving to stand beside him.

"Edward Cullen?" I asked, hoping my voice held the correct amount of curiosity, as opposed to the utter hatred I felt at simply being in the same room with this man.

He glanced over at me, nodding, a genial smile forming on his lips. "That's right."

"It's a pleasure to finally meet you," I forced out. I wanted nothing more than to end his pathetic existence. "My mother was brought into the hospital the other night, and she just went on and on about the great doctor she had."

His smile widened and he turned toward the basin, washing his hands. "That's great. How is she doing?"

"Fine, she's fine," I nodded, knowing I needed to keep his attention or we would have a scene on our hands. "I couldn't help but notice the lovely lady on your arm this evening."

"Isabella Swan, the love of my life," he grinned, and I felt as though he was trying to share some sort of mortal male camaraderie with me. I didn't return the expression.

"You're a lucky man," I opined blandly.

If he noticed my tone of voice, it didn't show in his expression. "Don't I know it? I'm planning on asking her to marry me tomorrow." At this, he beamed like an idiot.

"That's a shame," I said quietly with a frown.

His brow creased in confusion as he wiped his hands on one of the ostentatious monogrammed hand towels. "A shame? How do you figure?"

"Well, it's just a shame that you'll never get to ask her."

"Wha-?"

He didn't get a chance to finish the word as I clamped one hand over his mouth, the other closing with cruel strength around his torso, dragging him roughly into the nearest stall.

"What makes you think that you're good enough for her?" I demanded harshly, glaring down into his wide, fear-filled eyes. "She is everything, and you? You are nothing. A worm. A parasite. Taking the love she gives you and offering broken promises in return. She will never be yours. Never."

And without further ado, I grasped his head in my other hand and gave a sharp jerk. The cracking of his vertebrae was loud in the silence of the bathroom. His final breath wheezed from his lips to pass between my fingers.

I dragged him back up to eye level, peering into his lifeless face.

"You are nothing," I repeated quietly, before sinking my razor-sharp teeth into his neck.

It was a matter of minutes for me to remove Edward's Phantom of the Opera costume and swap it with my own, before carrying him out the nearest service exit at a speed too swift for human eyes to catch.

I returned to the ball only twenty minutes after Edward had left Isabella's side; human life was so very fragile.

"Edward!" Bella called with a smile. "Where have you been?"

I flashed my teeth in a broad smile, wrapping my arm around the slender shoulders of the young woman whose very existence was more important than the entirety of the room.

"Sorry, love, I got caught up, talking with someone." I'd been practicing the cadence and intonations of the whelp's voice for the past several days, and was admittedly surprised by how well it sounded. Amidst the din of the crowd I doubted that Isabella would be able to tell the difference.

She laughed softly, the sound causing every muscle in my body to tense with desperate longing. "That's alright, just don't let it happen again."

I nodded contritely, before taking her hand. "Dance with me," I commanded softly, adding a small layer of persuasion to the words.

She eased into my arms, fitting against me as though she were the matching piece to the puzzle that only she and I were able to create. She was so warm, so soft. I almost regretted that those qualities would be lost when I turned her, but if it meant keeping her with me for eternity, there was very little that I would not give up.

Dance after dance, I drew her closer, pressing kisses to her hair, stroking my hand up the slender curve of her spine, always wary of my strength, careful of her fragile beauty.

When the cool strength of my hand stroked her neck, drawing the line of her stubborn jaw, she surprised me by uttering a quiet, purring sound and taking my hand.

"Come with me," she murmured, tugging at me.

I followed without question.

She laughed, a soft, throaty sound as she led me through the many long halls, our feet quietly pattering on the decadent marble floors. Finally, she glanced around us covertly, before pulling me eagerly into a small closet, tugging the door closed behind us and pushing the small locking mechanism.

I was surprised as she threw herself into my arms, her warm slender fingers stroking through my hair.

"You've been driving me crazy all night," she murmured against my lips as I instinctively drew her close.

"Hmm?" I murmured curiously.

"Like you don't know," she whispered, pressing a soft kiss to my lower lip. "All those teasing little touches…"

I felt my body responding to her as it had always done, fiery passion tearing its way through my veins, igniting a wake of lust that only she could incite. I pulled her more firmly against my chest.

"And I suppose you didn't like them at all?" I teased, my breath bathing her lips. I heard her inhale sharply, felt her tremble in my arms as her pulse suddenly began to beat wildly. I pressed my lips to the artery in her neck, savoring the feel of her life, throbbing just beneath the pale, fragile barrier of her skin.

"On the contrary. I just want you to touch me more," she throatily replied as she suddenly reached up, the sound of a zipper coming undone filling the silence of the room.

I groaned; finding her hand and impatiently helping her with the only thing that was keeping me from the warmth of her skin. As soon as we had the fabric loose, I pulled it away from her, allowing my hands to roam as they would.

She whimpered as my fingers trailed the delicate lines of her collar bone, I reveled in the warmth of her perfumed flesh as I cupped her breasts through the flimsy lace of her bra. Her arousal saturated the air around us, and I found the dull ache growing between my legs becoming unbearable.

I tore the scrap of material away, her fingers fisting in my hair as I leaned down to press my lips to the pebbled peak of her nipple.

"Yes, yes, Edward," she hissed.

I hated hearing his name from her lips, but it was enough, for now, to know that it was I, and not he, that drew these responses from her.

I wrapped my lips around her sensitive flesh, drawing it into the cool cavern of my mouth and laving it with my tongue. Either she was too aroused to distinguish the difference in temperature, or Edward had had terrible circulation. I certainly hoped it was the former.

I began to tear at my clothes, throwing them carelessly away as my hand found her other breast, brushing teasing circles around her nipple, before I captured it between my thumb and forefinger. She gave a soft cry, and I watched in fascination as a delicate flush began to suffuse her skin.

When there was naught between us but the small scrap of lace riding low on her hips, I pinned her against the door, more firmly than I'd intended, though she didn't protest, and lifted her easily. She wrapped her legs about my waist, and I found myself pressed directly against the heat between her thighs. I thought, for a moment, that I might embarrass myself as I hadn't since I was a boy, but I drew back from the edge.

"More, more," she gasped quietly, pressing light kisses along my jaw, peppering my cheeks and nose. Her hands clasped the back of my neck with an almost desperate strength, and I was briefly awed that the fates would gift me with such an amazing, breathtaking woman.

I quickly ran my hand along the soft, flat expanse of her stomach, stopping to very briefly tickle at her belly button. She laughed quietly, but the steady motion of her hips, a small quick forward and retreat warned me that she wouldn't put up with my teasing for long. I growled sharply and ripped her final undergarment away, causing her to shudder and press her nails against my unyielding skin. I only wished that I could feel their sharp bite.

"More?" I murmured softly, running my fingertips lightly over her inner thighs.

She bucked against me, pressing her head back against the door, her throat straining as she sought to keep in the quiet, breathy sounds that escaped her.

"Please," she gasped.

"Well, how could I deny such a polite request?" I'd fallen back into my own dialect, a southern drawl that betrayed my origins, but again, she didn't seem to notice.

I slowly traced a finger between her thighs, breathing a harsh groan at the heat that I met. The lips of her sex yielded beneath the pressure I exerted, inviting me in, and I couldn't help but comply. I eased my finger into her, gratified by the sudden catching of her breath. She squirmed softly against me, causing my control to once again falter slightly. I focused on her face, hoping to take the edge off the desperate need for release that was swiftly taking control of my every move.

Her eyes were closed, her long dark lashes fluttering lightly against the soft blush of her cheeks. Her lips were parted and she murmured nonsensically, everything from obscenities to deities. I pressed my finger more deeply, allowing her heat to consume us both, and she took her lower lip between her teeth, biting down until a dark crimson bead came to the surface.

For a moment, I froze, the smell of her blood, exposed, combined with the arousal that beat at me mercilessly, drawing the demon within to the surface.

I held its leash as best as I was able, but still, some of him poured forth in my actions.

I took her lips with mine, sucking at the small wound she'd created, her taste filling my mouth, making my head spin wildly. My finger began to move in a demanding rhythm, pressing in, curling lightly to tap her inner wall, before drawing out. I wanted her release; I wanted to be the one to throw her into the dark waves that were crashing over us, only to draw her back out and start all over again.

A second finger sought entrance, pressing deeply, past muscles that offered minor resistance. She stiffened against me, and for a moment I thought I'd hurt her, before I felt the tiny contractions begin.

I released her lips, moving them up to touch her ear, where I nearly snarled, "Cum for me, Isabella." I rubbed the pad of my thumb against the tiny nub at the apex of her sex, pressing against it firmly for a moment, before circling it quickly.

"Yes, yes," she chanted, her head moving from side to side, soft tendrils of her hair clinging to her damp skin. Her muscles were tense, those pressing in on my fingers throbbing a steady tighten and retract. I raked my teeth carefully down her neck, sucking where her pulse raced rapidly, and she trembled in my arms, tipping her head back and uttering a long, sharp cry.

I didn't give her a chance to recover, moving between her thighs and sliding my length into her.

She gasped, clinging to me even more tightly.

I thrust into her, the sleek wet heat surrounding me drawing my demon closer to the surface yet. Every touch, every kiss; it was a struggle to keep my full strength from her, to keep from hurting her.

Still, the door rattled sharply on its hinges as I took her as quickly and as roughly as I dared. Driving deeply, withdrawing, only to have her heels pressing me closer again.

It shames me to admit that my control, usually so admirable, was stretched taut within a matter of moments, and I reached between our bodies, hers damp and hot, mine warm from the absorbed heat, to brush against the nerves that I knew would cause her pleasure.

As she stiffened against me, screaming her mortal lover's name even as she clung to me so desperately, I let myself fly from the edge, the likes of which I hadn't plummeted from in a decade. My climax was hard and lasted several long moments, in which my sweet Isabella murmured into my ear, her fingers threading through my hair.

At last, we separated, and I set her, panting still, on trembling legs, my grasp upon her not loosening until I was certain she was able to stand on her own.

We dressed in silence, sharing small touches and kisses as we went.

"We should probably leave separately," Bella murmured when we were fully clothed (her undergarments in my pocket) and standing near the door.

"Of course," I replied, assuming the voice of her deceased mortal once more.

"Are you coming by my place tonight?"

"I've got to stop into the hospital, but I'll see you tomorrow."

I felt her rise to her toes as she pressed a kiss to my lips.

"I love you," she said simply, and I heard the smile in her voice.

"I love you too," I answered honestly.

Soon. Soon, my love.


"Robert, Jasper here. I was just calling to thank you for your concern regarding the inquiries of Ms. Swan and the key to the basement for the house on Fir Street. Rest assured that you will not be bothered further about this matter, as I will have handled it myself by tomorrow. I really think we've found her this time. Your discretion in these matters is, as always, greatly appreciated. Goodbye."

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Bella PoV

I awoke on Valentine's Day feeling better about things than I had in a while.

Despite the schedule conflicts we'd run into during the week, Edward had been so amazingly attentive the day before that I just couldn't find it in me to be disappointed by the broken promises I'd been on the receiving end of all week.

And the utility closet at the ball?

I grinned to myself, pressing my legs together lightly. He was usually so careful, all delicate touches and whispered declarations of love, which, don't get me wrong, are great. But there was just something almost animalistic in him the previous night; something that I enjoyed being able to provoke.

I opened my eyes slowly, surprised, but delighted, to find sunshine streaming in through the thin sunshine-yellow curtains.

Smiling, I glanced at the clock on my bedside table. However, it was obscured by a vase. Sitting up quickly, I laughed happily to myself as I peered at the beautiful wildflowers; purples, blues and brilliant reds. There was a small card sitting at the base, my name scrawled on the front. I quickly opened it, gasping softly as a small brass key fell into my lap. I clutched the cool metal between my fingers as I read the card.

My dearest Bella,

I heard that you were looking for this

Meet me in the basement

For your Valentine's Day surprise

~Yours Always

Shaking my head, I couldn't help what was sure to be a positively silly grin from spreading on my lips. How had he known? He must have talked to the realtor, or that Bob fellow. After all, his parents had lived here forever and the town really wasn't that big.

I jumped out of bed, changing into a pair of jeans and a pretty blue blouse that Edward had always said complimented my skin. I brushed my teeth, did what I could with the bird's nest I called hair, and ran down the stairs.

I stared at the door that led to the basement for several long minutes. What could my surprise be, I wondered. Maybe he'd found me a job prospect? Maybe he wanted me to move in with him? Perhaps he was going to propose?

Giggling like a schoolgirl, I jammed the key into the old lock, my fingers fumbling with it slightly in my haste.

I took the stairs a dangerous two-at-a-time, pausing at the foot of the steps as I got my first look at the basement.

It was like most other basements, I supposed. Dim, musty, smelling slightly odd. There was a door nestled in the corner of the room, probably home to some sort of laundry room. Cobwebs were clinging to the corners. All-in-all, it probably just needed some better lighting and a good cleaning, I decided.

Especially to get rid of whatever that awful smell was, I thought, wrinkling my nose as I turned slightly to face the main room. It was a sort of rotting stench, like old meat gone bad.

My preoccupation with the odor vanished quickly as I noticed a small side table sitting in the middle of the room, a bright red box resting in its center. It was about the size of both of my fists combined, wrapped in blood red wrapping paper, matching ribbon tied around it.

I looked around, wondering where Edward was hiding.

Was I supposed to open it? Or wait for him?

I took a few hesitant steps forward, stopping in front of the present, which was labeled with my name on the same white parchment that both of the cards had been.

I waited for several long minutes, before my curiosity finally got the better of me.

I picked up the present, grimacing slightly as I noted that the bottom was slightly wet. I glanced at the ceiling, murmuring to myself about leaky pipes.

I quickly tore the ribbon off, throwing it aside like an excited kid at Christmas, before going to town on the wrapping paper. Inside was a plain box, similar to a jewelry box, only larger. I carefully opened the lid, raising it open on its hinges.

Edward knew me so well, whatever he got me was sure…to…be…

I froze.

What…?

I desperately willed my eyes away from the sight before me, but they were glued to what the box contained, morbidly, unflinchingly.

No… No…

I took a short breath. And then another.

And then I screamed.

I screamed.

I didn't think that I'd ever stop screaming.

My hands went numb, shaking so badly that the box tumbled out of them, sending the human heart and the picture of Edward's horrified, lifeless face clattering to the ground.

I stumbled backward, tripping over my own feet.

This was a joke. A sick fucking joke.

This wasn't real.

Maybe it was a nightmare.

I pressed my fisted hand against my lips, biting down to keep the choked sobs from escaping, even as I continued to back away.

A pair of strong hands closed over my arms, startling me, and I shrieked, jerking away even as I whirled to face whoever had done this.

A young man stood at the foot of the steps, a gentle smile on his handsome features. He was as fair as I was, perhaps more so, and his blonde hair hung in his face in a style that hadn't been popular in a very long time. He was dressed casually, a pair of jeans and a gray sweater.

"Isabella, I see you found my gift?"

I struggled to make sense of what was happening, struggled to find the coherence to speak.

"Y-Your gift?" I choked out. "Who are you? What is this?"

He laughed, an entrancing sound, and stepped closer.

"The name is Jasper, Jasper Whitlock. I'm surprised you don't remember. Of course, it has been nearly two hundred years, hasn't it?"

"W-what?" I murmured, feeling my brows snap together in confusion.

"My wife, my beloved…" he whispered, and now, there was a melancholy to his voice. "Maria, she ruined what we had, made me a monster, and I gave in to my baser instincts. But not this time. Now that I've found you again, I won't lose you."

Panic began to take root, spreading rapidly within me as I realized that I was most likely dealing with a truly insane individual. My mind flashed wildly to the gifts on my doorstep, the feeling of constantly being watched, the pictures in the attic…

"No. I'm…I'm not your wife. I'm not your anything! Please, please, you have to let me go. I-I can get you the help that you need," I stammered, grasping at any straws that may provide me with a way out.

His laughter was loud, boisterous. "You think me insane." It was not a question. "That's alright. Soon, I will grant you the greatest gift of all. The gift of eternity, and then you will see."

"No. No, I don't want you to grant me anything."

"That's certainly not what you were saying last evening," he rejoined with a wry grin.

"W-what?" I gasped, clutching at my chest convulsively. "What are you talking about?"

He chuckled, stepping closer yet, and I found myself answering with a retreating step backward. My foot landed on something cold and wet, and as I fell backward, my stomach lurched as I realized what it was.

I turned, as I landed on the hard cement, guts knotting as I dry heaved, tears gathering in my eyes.

When I looked up, he was standing over me, his hand outstretched. "'I just want you to touch me more,'" he quoted casually. "You were absolutely lovely."

"No…No… No!" I cried, desperately hoping that if I said it enough it would be true. "How…How did you?"

"It was simple enough to be rid of the mortal and assume his ridiculous persona. I don't know what you saw in him honestly. You were certainly not a priority in his life."

"Oh my God," I whispered, recalling the previous night with a new feeling of self-loathing. How could I not notice the difference between Edward and this man? "But your hair."

"It was a minor chore to color it so that you wouldn't be able to tell the difference," he shrugged.

"Oh my God," I repeated. But the truth was, I knew that not even God could help me now.

I scrambled to my feet, ignoring the hand he held out and bolting towards the door I'd taken note of previously, hoping I could lock myself inside and get to a phone, or maybe crawl out of a window.

I yanked the door open swiftly, gagging at the sudden stench that washed over me.

As I looked around the room, I realized why.

Bodies. Dozens of skeletons littered the floor, piled atop one another, laying haphazardly here and there, as though they were nothing more than debris. Many of them still had wisps of long, dark hair attached to their skulls. Those girls. All of those pictures… These girls…

My knees cracked sharply upon the floor as my legs gave way beneath me. I leaned forward on my hands, my stomach desperately attempting to empty its contents, though there were none.

I knew he was standing behind me, before he spoke.

"Ah yes, the incarnations of my Isabella that simply weren't right. They deemed me monster and refused my love. But you. You are the girl I remember from all those years past. You are the one." His hands closed over my shoulders, and he lifted me easily, turning me to face him. I dangled there in front of him, unable to so much as struggle. It was hopeless. We both knew it.

"What are you?" I whispered, unable to deny the barely-leashed strength in the hands that now held me upright, unable to deny that they were the same hands from the night before.

"Vampire," he answered simply, as one might answer a question about their career or what type of car they have.

I stared at him, peered into the fanatical crimson eyes so near mine, realized that he spoke the truth.

I was staring into the face of death.

I was going to die.

"Of course I won't allow you to die."

I hadn't realized I'd spoken aloud.

"All I want is for you to accept my love, to tell me you love me in return. Give me the chance to correct the mistake that I made so many years ago."

I shook my head mutely, the pieces of the puzzle slamming into place at an alarming rate.

This man, this vampire, he'd killed someone he loved, many years ago, and he'd spent his entire existence searching for her, gathering women who looked like her, acted like her, in the hopes that he could make her like him, changing history. His history.

Breathing seemed an impossible task as the revelations washed over me. My airways blocked, constricting; the air too thick to draw in.

"Breathe," he commanded quietly, his cool breath washing over my face and making me dizzy. I dragged in a shuddering breath.

"Why me?" I whispered hopelessly.

"Because you are her most pure incarnation, Isabella. It was fate that brought you to this place, fate that brought us back together."

I thought back to Mrs. Cope's insistence in showing me this house, despite my preference for a town home or apartment. She was firm, almost rude, advising that she simply knew I would be a perfect fit.

"You have them bring these girls here," I cried in horror. "Prospective candidates for your foolish quest."

He shook me then, his face contorting into something terrible. "It isn't foolish," he snarled. "I need her. I need you."

"No, Jasper." I shook my head slowly, feeling the strength returning to my voice as I accepted what I knew my fate to be. It would be so easy to take the coward's way out. To tell this crazed monster that I loved him, and allow him to make me like him. To fulfill the half-cocked dreams he'd imagined. But for me, that was no an option. After what he had done to Edward… "I am not her. I am not your wife. I am not the woman you loved. You destroyed her, and you know that you will never be able to find her again."

I winced as his hands tightened on my shoulders, my teeth chattering together as he shook me again, harder now. "You're wrong!" he roared. "I will find her! She will love me and I will do the right thing! We will be together for eternity!"

"No," I denied. I glanced at the floor, seeing the picture of my beloved Edward, hoping that he hadn't suffered terribly when he died. I wondered, would I? Would the next girl find me amongst the skeletons in the closet? Would she find my picture, laying in a pile with others? Would I be laughing?

"You're a monster. That's all you are and that's all you can be. No one will ever love you. All that awaits you in eternity is the torment of the knowledge of what you've done. And that's all you deserve."

A snap that I realized too late was something vital to my survival sounded in my ears, and then I felt the pain of his teeth, tearing into my throat.

And then.

There was nothing.


Ten Years Later

"Hey Bob, it's Angela Weber. Just thought I should let you know that I finally signed that old house on Fir Street..."


A/N: Damn that Bob and his machinations! I know, it was so far from a happily ever after, but sometimes, stories just don't end with rainbows and sunshine.

Let me know what you thought!