Kill me
Edward's gun roars in a satisfying boom that he feels in the pit of his stomach and the human girl slides to the floor. The two vampires who'd been feeding on her look up – their thoughts spiking in anger at being interrupted. Their faces quickly register surprise, then horror when they recognize who he is, before spewing forth false bravado and determination. They both charge at him as he puts his gun back in his holster. He meets them head on, going straight for their heads, one after the other. He puts one in a chokehold and twists, before going after the next. Their heads bounce against the walls when he throws them away. He pulls his gun from the holster and pulls the trigger again, downing another human. An older woman, stripped of her clothes, being feasted upon by another of his kind.
There are four more vampires inside the house, plus two more humans. Edward moves quickly, shooting the humans before facing the others. He supposes he could easily kill all the vamps, too, by shooting them with silver-laced bullets. But it's never fun to kill them all with a gun. It's not painful enough. Especially inside a place like this – an abandoned house just outside Seattle – inhabited by rogue vampires who are too lazy to hunt for their prey. Instead, they buy blood from "entrepreneur vampires" – pimps who pick up random girls on the street, drug them and turn them over to be used as cows.
In cases like this, everyone dies, including the humans. Their innocence doesn't matter.
Carlisle had asked him to shut the place down. The place is under their jurisdiction, after all. Edward had said he'd think about it. He usually doesn't give a fuck what happens inside Carlisle's little "Washington kingdom" but the latter had asked so nicely and frankly, he'd been itching for a kill.
He's still thinking about it as he swerves smoothly to avoid a vampire, backhanding him as he turns for another assault. His fist connects to the vamp's face sharply. Bits and pieces splatter on his suit as the vamp's head disconnects from his neck with the force of the blow. The gore is icy cold, the accompanying venom evaporates rapidly but leaves neon stains on the dark fabric.
Messy motherfuckers, he sighs. They can't even die cleanly. Now he's going to need a new suit.
He should have just burned the place down, with everyone inside it. There aren't enough vampires around to make the raid interesting.
Another vampire tries to stab him, which at least shows a little spirit. But he's nervous and his aim is shit, and he fails to dodge when Edward punches him back. He cringes as he looks at his hands, covered with vampire gore.
Stupid motherfuckers.
Another goes for him, pushing himself off the floor, and throws himself at Edward with a roar. He's fast, but Edward's faster, dodging him just a little and twisting, catching the flying vampire in mid-air by the neck. The crunch of an immortal neck breaking satisfies him and the vampire falls to the floor with a thud.
They really should be trying a lot harder.
In one of the rooms upstairs, he can hear someone through the closed door, giving verbal form to his panicked and outraged thoughts.
"Shut up!" A vampire is shouting angrily. "Stop crying, bitch!"
Edward shakes his head, finding the order a little unreasonable. It's perfectly understandable to start crying when there are vampires around.
"Wait here," the angry vampire says as Edward walks up to the closed door. "I'm going to take care of the son of a bitch."
Edward stands in front of the door where the voice had come from, arms calmly folded over his chest, as he waits for it to open.
"Going to take care of me?" Edward gives the vampire who opens it a small, polite smile.
The other vampire takes a step back, recognizing him at once, and Edward steps forward into the room.
"Please tell me you're harder to kill than the rest of your friends down there," he implores. "Otherwise, it's not going to be fun killing you at all."
The vampire takes a few more steps back and Edward follows him. To his side, he sees a human girl crumpled on the floor, as if she'd been shoved there, her dress falling off one shoulder. The bitemarks are still fresh on her throat and shoulders. She looks terrified.
At least somebody has the common sense to be scared.
"You want to take a shot at me first?" Edward asks the other vampire.
"Hold this," Edward says, and tosses his gun to the girl. The other vampire draws a revolver, the kind with vampire-deadly silver-laden bullets. Edward grabs his arm with both hands, shoves him back against the wall with his gun hand up over his head. The revolver goes off when it slams into the wall, and plaster dust sprinkles down from the ceiling. The guy's grip comes loose. Edward bangs his hand into the wall again. This time there's a crunch, like bones giving way.
The other vampire swears as the gun slides out of his grasp. Edward steps back enough to punch him in the face.
"You think you're tough," he says. He jabs left to follow up. "You think you can do anything you want."
The guy tries to get his hands up to block, but his form is terrible, and Edward already has him.
"You walk around acting like you can't be killed." Edward keeps punching him, jabbing from the left and the right until the other vampire slides down the wall slowly into a little heap on the floor. "You're nothing but a useless little twerp."
Edward sighs as he twists the vampire's head off his body. There's almost never anyone really interesting to kill.
Unless...there's still the girl left.
Edward turns around, and finds said girl watching him. Right there, he finds it odd. Most of the time when he's on a killing spree, humans look away. But this one is watching him, and there is something about her, something he can't quite figure out. She's sitting on the floor, his gun in her lap. It looks...charming on her, he decides. His gun against lace and blood splatter.
She sees him looking down, and holds out his gun for him, butt end first, so the barrel is pointed right below her ribs. If there were any shells left in it, he could easily pull the trigger and put a bullet into her. Edward reaches out to take the gun back.
"Thank you," the girl says quietly.
"Eh?" Edward says. He looks down at her, studying her face. "You think if you're polite I won't kill you?"
The girl shakes her head. Then it strikes him. The off-thing about her. He can't read her thoughts. Silent, that's what she is. Everything is silent about her. Peaceful.
"I don't think I'd mind so much if you kill me."
There's a tiny bit of emphasis when she says you. Does she think flattering him will make him stop?
Edward crouches on the floor in front of her and reaches out, running his fingers from her shoulders, up her neck and across her cheek. He leaves a blood smear on one side of her face.
"You want me to kill you?" he says. He slides his hand down, wraps it around her throat, and he can feel the beat of her pulse under his fingers. It's steady. Calm. Quiet.
"Yes," she says, her voice thrumming against his hand. Her eyes are sweet and sad.
Interesting. In fact, too interesting. She's not like anybody he's killed so far. Edward lets go of her throat and takes her hand instead.
"I'm not going to kill you," he says. She looks disappointed, so he adds. "I'm still going to do it, don't worry. But you deserve to die in better company than this."
She nods and her lips quiver slightly. He thinks it's wonderful how someone can look so grateful and frightened and hopeful all at the same time.
"Thank you," she says, and Edward helps her to her feet.
He tells her his name is Edward Cullen. When she asks if that means he's a member of the Cullen Coven, he laughs like he's pleased that she knows. She's heard of them during the short time she spent crouched in a corner inside the abandoned house. The vampires had argued back and forth about how to kill them, scared that "those vegetarians" from the Cullen Coven might be on to them. She'd learned that the "vegetarians" are vampires who've shunned human blood but are as ruthless and cruel as those who aren't.
From the house, Edward brings her to a hotel in Seattle. Upon their arrival, she expects him to make advances; like that vampire who'd wasted no time stripping her bare, sinking his teeth into her flesh as he tried to fuck her. But he only washes up and changes his clothes so she takes the opportunity to wash off the smear of her own blood that he left on her cheek.
They leave the hotel and go to a diner where he orders everything on the menu and watches her eat.
It's midnight by the time they come back to his hotel room, and Bella's head feels a little fuzzy, the events of the day catching up with her. She can't believe that it had only been this morning when she'd been abducted on her way to class, thrown into a trunk of a car and dumped in the middle of a feeding frenzy. She'd bided her time as the vampires picked on the larger humans, listening to them argue about covens and vegetarians and vampire rules, thinking she could still make it out of there alive. But when night had fallen, she'd lost all hope.
She's still looking for that hope, for that reason to go on living. Events had proven to be much for her and she refuses to deal with it. She just wants the nightmare to stop from playing over and over in her head. She's tired, so tired that she doesn't have the energy even to kill herself.
She wants him, the vampire killer, to do it.
The room Edward has taken her to is on the topmost floor of the hotel and she can see half the city when she looks through its glass walls. Seattle looks beautiful from where she's standing, all glittering lights and tall skyscraper buildings.
She stands at the window and looks down, watching the cars below scurry across the roads like ants.
"You look so pretty, standing there," Edward says, surprising her as he comes up to stand behind her. She hadn't heard him come in. He wraps an arm around her waist, pulls her back against him. "What's your name?"
"Bella."
"Bella," he whispers against her ear, "little Bella. I had such a lovely day today." His other hand slides up, over her stomach, between her breasts, and curls around her throat. "Shall I kill you now? To end this day gloriously, with your death in my arms?"
Bella barely hears him, intent as she is in watching the street lights below change color and the ant-like cars scurry in different directions. The city is beautiful, she decides, but it doesn't matter. There's a killer behind her, solid and hard -
"If you want to," she whispers.
"No," Edward says, pulling away, "it's not right. You're too lovely. I should kill lots more people before I kill you. Can you stand to wait?"
"If you keep me with you until then."
"Of course, of course." Edward's hands close on her arms, pull her back against him, away from the chill of the glass. "Of course. That way nobody else can kill you first." He kisses her, like he can't stop himself. He's oddly clumsy, his lips brushing her cheek. "There must be so many of my kind who'd want to."
Bella nods slightly. It's true, she supposes. She turns in Edward's arms, tilts her face up to offer her mouth for a proper kiss. Edward looks surprised for a moment, and then leans down to kiss her, close-mouthed, bending her over backward so she has to wrap her arms around his neck and trust him to hold her up. He closes his eyes when he kisses her awkwardly.
"Perhaps tomorrow," he tells her afterward. "Tomorrow, or the next day. So we should make sure to be well rested." He turns away, shrugs out of his jacket and hangs it up. "Time for bed, hmm?" he asks, leaving no doubt of what he wants.
She's already agreed to let him kill her without protest, Bella thinks, so objecting to being fucked would be frivolous by comparison. She looks him over and decides that he is quite handsome – tall and confident, strong-jawed. When he takes off his vest and shirt, she sees that he has an athlete's broad shoulders.
It won't be so bad, she decides.
Maybe she'll feel something then. Maybe fucking him will make the nightmare in her head stop. She reaches for the buttons of her dress...and stops.
She looks down at her underwear, the tawdry and flimsy lace that she and her friends bought, in the hope that one day soon, a "prince" will sweep them off their feets and fuck them properly. Her black lace bra and panties look cheap compared to Edward Cullen's tailored suit and fancy hotel room.
She hesitates, her dress half off her shoulders, most of the buttons undone. When she looks up, he's looking at her curiously. "What are you waiting for?"
So she strips out of all of it - dress and panties and bra; every stitch she has on. She decides that she won't keep secrets from the man who's going to kill her. She won't hide from him.
When Edward gets into bed - in his shorts and his undershirt - he doesn't turn the light out right away.
She's still not expecting the way he's watching her when she looks up - not leering or anything, the way the other vampires did. He's watching her intently.
She climbs into bed beside him, under the heavy quilt, and he pulls her into his arms. He's icy and hard against her – solid, marble planes under her hands. Bella presses close to him, leans up for another kiss, waits for him to push her down onto her back. But he doesn't push her, doesn't make demands, doesn't even kiss her more deeply. Perhaps he's gay, she mulls, he likes to kill girls but not fuck them. Bella parts her lips, lets her tongue brush the hardness of his mouth.
Edward gasps, and his cock stirs against her thigh. Not completely gay, she decides.
"Do that again," he commands and kisses her harder. This time Bella opens her mouth. He's clumsy in kissing, awkward and slow. His cock stirs again, and he pushes against her.
"Bella," he whispers. "I want to kill you."
He doesn't know how to do this, she realizes. He hasn't ever fucked anyone. Pleasure probably only comes to him when he kills. A virgin vampire, who'd have thought it? But she supposes most women would run from him, given what she's seen he can do.
"You're so soft," he says. He pushes her down now, runs his hand up her side - pausing for a moment when his palm cups her breast, and then moving on, sliding up to wrap his fingers around her throat. She can feel him push against the veins there, not hard - not yet - only enough to make her face flush, to make her blood roar in her ears.
"Please," she breathes. She's trembling, close to gasping.
"Don't beg me to stop," he warns her.
Bella shakes her head. She won't. His cock is rock hard now, his hips rocking slowly, like an afterthought. Was he this aroused when he killed all those vampires, or is he responding to her in particular? She wraps her arms around him, runs her hands over the broad plane of his back.
Edward's grip eases, and he looks down into her eyes as though he doesn't understand what she's doing.
"You want me to kill you," he says, wistful. The words sound so tender, romantic.
"Better you than anyone else," she tells him. She reaches down, and he lets her press her hand between them to cup his cock through his shorts.
"Ah, Bella," he says, and pushes against her hand. "Yes, yes, sweet Bella. I want to so much, so much, just like that."
"Like this?" Bella asks. She lets go of his cock and he grabs her wrist, glares at her - but he lets her move enough to reach the waistband of his shorts, to hook her fingers inside. "Will you let me take these off?"
"I'm in a good mood," he says, shrugging one shoulder. He rolls off her enough so that she can reach, so she can pull his shorts off. Men's cocks never look as impressive as they seem to believe.
But Edward is different. He isn't threatening her with it; why would he, when he can threaten her with his hands, and get what he really wants? So Bella can actually look, without cringing, without him posturing. His cock suits him, thick and hard, a match for his broad hands and his strong jaw. Bella takes it in her hand, and Edward shudders, and smiles.
"Clever," he murmurs. "You make me feel so good, little Bella. So good."
Bella strokes his cock slowly, firmly. It's as thick as her wrist.
"Will you fuck me, Edward?" she asks.
"It won't stop me from killing you," he says. His eyes are wary, as if he thinks she's trying to bargain.
"You can do it at the same time, if you want to," Bella says.
She thinks he would enjoy that. She lies back, spreads her legs, opens her arms to draw him down. Edward shifts on top of her, and he still looks suspicious as he settles into her embrace. Bella guides his cock between her legs, watches something like shock cross his face as he presses against her cunt. He pushes, and she squeezes her eyes shut. It burns, as his cock slides into her, and she can't help flinching.
"Oh, Bella," Edward says, low and fierce. "Bella, Bella."
He pulls back, thrusts in again, and he slides a little more easily this time but Bella whimpers all the same, filled and aching, his hipbones hard against her thighs.
"Am I hurting you?" he asks, breathing the words into her ear, but he pushes harder as he asks.
"It's all right," Bella says, holding onto his shoulders and raising her knees to let him deeper. Her voice shakes, and the corners of her eyes sting.
Edward moans, mouths at her throat, bites her under the jaw, just a quick scrape of his teeth to avoid breaking skin. "It feels like - like killing you, sweet Bella, it feels good."
"Yes," Bella whispers. He won't last long, not with the way he moves, fucking her in an unpracticed, harsh, entirely selfish rhythm. He doesn't know there is more of a performance he could be asking of her, doesn't demand that she tell him how good his cock feels or how much she needs to be filled with it. He only takes her, crooning in her ear about how soft she is and how easily she will break, and when he comes he laughs, as if it makes him giddy. In the aftermath he collapses on top of her at first, then pushes himself up when she struggles for breath.
"Am I crushing you?" he asks. "Crushing the breath out of you?" He smiles. "That won't do," he says. "Not like that. I want to kill you but not like that."
Bella turns her head away from him. Yes, crushing her would be below him.
Edward pulls out, shifts his weight just enough so that he's lying against her side instead of right on top of her. One of his legs settles between hers, pinning her thigh, and his arm rests across her stomach. Her cunt feels bruised, swollen, wet.
"You're so good for me, Bella," Edward tells her. "You make me feel so calm. So quiet."
"Yes," Bella says. Edward has one of her hands trapped, her arm around his shoulders, but she slides the other hand down her body to part the wet curls between her legs and feel how tender, how slick he's left her. When she looks over he's watching, but calmly, not angry or leering or even particularly curious, so she lets her fingers stay there, tracing tiny circles through her folds. Most of the slickness she feels is his come, she thinks, but perhaps not all of it. And he lets her be, gives no suggestions and makes no demands as she relaxes a little more completely against him.
He makes a noise the first time she shivers at the building sensation, a soft wordless croon, and strokes her side. "Pretty Bella," he murmurs. "You look like you're hurting."
Bella nods, and closes her eyes. It does still hurt, a little, touching herself where he's been. Her limbs tremble, and Edward holds her like he's not sure whether to hold her close or hold her down. It doesn't matter which it is, not really, and she's quiet until the moment when she brings herself to climax, and then - when that hurts, too, something pulled so tight inside her that it aches - she lets one faint moan escape her throat.
Edward kisses her like he could draw the breath from her lungs. "So sweet, Bella," he tells her, looking down into her eyes. "You suffer so prettily." She thinks no one has ever looked at her the way he does. "Shall I put out the light now?"
"Yes," Bella says, and he does. She turns her back to him and braces herself for the nightmare to start again. She listens to the silence. There is no heartbeat, no sound of breathing except her own. She lets his words echo in her head to reassure herself, keeping everything else at bay.
Yes, she suffers prettily.
Yes, she will stay with him.
Yes, he will kill her.
Yes.
There is nothing she wants more.