Disclaimer: All Twilight characters are the sole property of Stephenie Meyer. The use of them in this work is only for entertainment purposes and in no way for monetary gain. Any original characters are my own. Any similarities to real-life people or events are solely coincidence.

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Chapter One

His feet tread lightly through the wilderness as he remembered the lush, green forests of Washington, wishing this swamp was cooler. His steps were silent against the heavy kudzu which engrossed the expanse of trees and shrubs before him. The air was thick like warm milk, and all manner of creatures were singing out, creating a soft lullaby that filled the night. The figure in the distance bent down, graciously sweeping up a bundle of bright blue blossoms and placing them lovingly into the wicker basket at her side. Unlike other mortals he had stumbled across in his wandering, he could not read any of her thoughts, but her mere presence called to him so sweetly it was if by song.

Keeping at a safe distance so as not to startle her, he gingerly crept forward through the branches, inhaling the intoxicating scent of her as the gentle, night breeze brought it to his nostrils. The hunger, that intense need, spread through him with the venom, and it tingled from his belly to his fingertips. Several adrift animals had sated his appetite as he had followed the murky waters of the Mississippi south, yet none compared to this perfect specimen before him. He scanned her mind for her thoughts, only to find her voice silent to him. How could this be? Had she learned a way to close her inner monologue?

She had made her way to the edge of the property, and he could see the dim glow of the porch light through the trees. Her skirt swayed gently as she climbed the wide stairs up to the door. It still amazed him how comfortable she was out here in the swamp all alone; she could defend herself against any potential threats.

Suddenly, she turned around, facing the broad clearing in front of the old plantation house. It was as if her honey-colored eyes locked directly on him, though he was certain he was hidden, since he was still perched at the edge of the trees. "Monsieur Cullen, I fear I have tired of this cat and mouse game we are playing," she called out towards him. "Either make your presence known or go away from here." Her voice was very stern and husky, yet each word rolled off her tongue effortlessly. For a moment, he debated turning and leaving her in peace, but the intense aroma of her blood sent waves of hunger through him and reminded him of why he was here.

Deftly, his feet carried him out of the shadows of the forest and into the moonlit yard. The moon cast a glow onto the white columns of the house, and for a moment, she and the scene behind her were very foreboding. He had gotten about halfway up to the porch when he suddenly stopped. His senses were spinning at the smell of her, and he tried to come closer, only to find he was unable to take a step forward. A laugh escaped her, and it was gentle music to his ears. "I am no fool, Edward," she smiled. "You forget I know you for what you are."

Her soft brown eyes betrayed not an ounce of fear, and her brow was raised as if in amusement. With a hand on her hip, she sat the basket down at her feet and stepped down off the porch. Slowly, she walked nearer to him, and as she got closer, he could feel the air around her become palpably thick, as if charged with electricity. "Christine, how are you?" His voice was barely a whisper.

"Why are you here?" she responded boldly.

"Not happy to see an old friend?," he replied with a strained laugh. She was much more delicate looking at this proximity. Her nose was like a small rose bud in the center of her face, curving up just slightly at the tip. Large almond-shaped eyes sat atop her round cheeks, which had the glow of afternoons in the sunshine. He suddenly wanted to feel that warm skin against his own cold face, to wrap his hands in the wavy tendrils of her dark hair.

"I am certain that would be most detrimental to me," she smiled, her full lips curling up and her gaze softening. She could read his mind? "Yes," she answered the unspoken question, "But I can show you how to guard those thoughts which you let so easily slip out."

"Your talents have matured," he stated nervously.

"Come, we have much to discuss, Edward." She took his hand in hers, all the warmth of her palm radiating through his icy grip.