This is a companion piece to Wedding Night. This is my first attempt at Edward's point of view, which is my favorite to read, but very difficult to write. All things Twilight belong to Stephanie Meyer.
The Morning After
The sun has been up for hours. How much longer would she sleep? How much longer before I'd have to face her? Was the time I would be allowed to hold her in my arms almost up? Or would she forgive me? She has forgiven me so many times before. But there has to be a line somewhere that she would not tolerate me crossing. Was this it? I would find out soon. I could tell by the changes in her heart rate and breathing that she would be awake soon. I looked again over her body at the blooming bruises. As my eyes ranged over her naked form, desire gripped me for just a moment, and then was immediately overpowered by my self-disgust. I had no right to desire this precious creature. I could never deserve her. And she wouldn't want me now in any case. How could she?
Over the years, Carlisle had treated many rape victims, I had seen them in his thoughts. They didn't look much different than this. I was no better than a rapist. I defiled her. I was a monster. I was selfish. I took what I wanted and left my wife battered, damaged. She may have given her consent, but if she had known what would happen, she would never have consented to this. My anger flared, and I realized that a small portion of that anger was directed at Bella. Why didn't she tell me I was hurting her? She had agreed to tell me at once if I did something wrong. Why did she let me continue? If she had asked me to stop, I would have stopped right away. Wouldn't I? Of course I would have.
Is it possible she just wanted so badly to give me this gift that it was worth the pain? The fact that her pain was the price of my pleasure sickened me. She maintained that this was something she wanted so badly, but I have often wondered if she really wanted this for me. What if this was always about giving me what I wanted, masked as a favor to her? After all, why would a soft warm human want to make love with a cold rock? How could that have been the least bit pleasurable to her? No, I admonished myself; she's a terrible liar. She wanted to share herself with me. She believed she could trust me. She was wrong.
I studied the bruises, the evidence of my crime. Thanks to my perfect recall I could remember every touch, and therefore could remember which touch must have inflicted each one. I had tried to touch her so softly, but had known at the same time I was losing control. I had wanted her so much, and all her reactions fanned the flames of my passion. More than fanned, more like throwing gasoline on those flames. As we first connected, her eyes had squeezed shut, and she had cried out in pleasure. At least I had hoped it was pleasure. I was still worried. I had even asked her to make sure she was not in any pain.
"Yes Edward," she had said, "Yes, it feels good. It feels amazing." I had been instantly relieved. But then her words had echoed in my mind, and it was like an electric shock to my body. "Yes Edward....Please don't stop." My mind had spun out after that, a million little thoughts, and every one excited me like I never imagined. She was still saying yes to me. She wanted this, wanted me. She'd given herself to me. She was mine. She was my wife, my lover, in my arms, in my bed, pinned under me. She was completely willing to give me anything I wanted. I was the only one who had ever touched her this way. I was the only one that ever would. Other men wanted her, but she chose me. I had her, and she was mine. These thoughts had intoxicated me. The realization that I could make her feel so good that she made that noise made me feel more powerful than any of my vampiric abilities ever had. It gave me confidence, too much confidence. That was the moment when my control began to slip.
Wait. I hadn't asked her anything. "I need to hear you say I'm not hurting you, Bella" I had said. "Tell me this feels good to you." I need. Tell me. It wasn't a question at all. It was a command. Rather than asking her if she was hurt, I had insisted she tell me what I wanted to hear. Does that mean that she had been in pain and just couldn't bear to disappoint me? Raging self-hatred flashed through me at that thought. I should have known I couldn't pull this off, that I didn't have the control necessary. She kept putting her trust in me, and I'd let her down again. If I were capable of crying, my eyes would be brimming over now.
Another change in her breathing and heart rate indicated she was awake. Her eyes were still closed. I began tracing patterns on her arm. This was it. I would thow myself on her mercy, though I knew I deserved no forgiveness. My beautiful Bella, will you forgive me yet again?
-Author's note:
I am considering continuing this with Edward's take on the morning conversation with Bella. Do you think I should? Leave me a review if you'd like to read more.