Carlisle has a secret.
Sometimes, when he thinks nobody will miss him, Carlisle goes far away. Far away from his lovely, beautiful, caring wife, far away from his wonderful, talented children, far away from his amazing, miraculous grandchild...
Far away.
Because Carlisle has a secret.
A secret he thinks no one knows. But Edward knows. Or thinks he knows, Calisle isn't sure. Still, Carlisle is careful. Sparing. He doesn't leave often, can't leave often, not without arousing suspicion. And then Edward would look, and maybe Alice, but Alice is easy to block.
He never plans it in advance. That would be foolish, irresponsible.
Because Carlisle has a secret.
He's far away right now, hidden in a dirty, dingy room. It should smell terrible, would smell terrible to anyone else, but to Carlisle it doesn't. Sprawled across an unmade bed was a figure. Blood coursed through his veins, a nectar sweeter than any other and the greatest temptation he had ever known. Bar one.
He moved forward slowly, gracefully. Within moments the boy was moaning, writhing.
Carlisle has a secret.