He knew Sam and the little pixie looking leech had told them all to stay back when the Volturi came to the clearing to check on the massacre. He knew he would be risking lives by going any further than he already was.
But if he could stay just out of sight in his wolf form, he figured he'd be fine. The wind was blowing west, they wouldn't catch his scent from this far away. He just wanted a glimpse; it was fucking vamp Royalty, for fuck's sakes. Any self-respecting protector would want to know what the Big Bad Behind Enemy Lines looked like and how it carried itself. This was their first run-in with these vamps, but it might not be their last. Paul would be prepared if worse came to worse later.
There were four of them, there; cloaked in long billowy black robes and fancy crests around their necks. They pulled their hoods off in unison; three males, and a female. The tiny female seemed to be the leader; she surveyed the Cullen clan with cold indifference, eyes finally settling on Bella Leech-Loving Swan with a blatant disdain.
Even in the harshness of the female's expression, she had a certain air about her that was appealing. Maybe it was because of how she easily she summoned fear in each of the piss-eyed leeches, or the fact that her posture screamed power, and control, even from the 400 feet distance where Paul was perched. The coldness in her eyes in no way diminished her beauty, as fresh as it was – she could have been changed at 15, maybe? Younger than Doc Leech's kids, for sure, but not too young.
"It's too bad we missed the fight. It sounds like it would have been entertaining to watch." Her symphonic voice rang out over the wind. The sound had an almost hypnotic quality to it; full of bells and sweetness, but Paul knew. She was bullshitting them.
They'd probably been settled on the cliffs above the battle, watching the whole thing and waiting for their opening. He heard the lilt of sarcasm just at the end, flavoring the otherwise cordial small talk with just the right hint of acidity.
"If you would have arrived a half hour ago you would have fulfilled your purpose." Dickwad (Jake's name for Edward had stuck) said just as coldly to her.
"Pity." She spat out, even more sarcastically. She turned her gaze to the younger looking newborn they'd spared, and smirked. "You missed one."
"We offered her escape, in exchange for her surrender." Momma vamp said timidly.
"Tsk, tsk, Cullens, but that wasn't yours to offer." The blond robed male vamp next to her responded.
And then her gaze narrowed and focused on the newborn, and Paul could almost feel it. Pain; unadulterated, pure, agony, transferred from one mind to the next, but also a sadistic bliss that permeated the inflictor. She loved this; she got off on it.
A twisted ... Admiration? passed across Paul. The power that radiated off of her was beautiful to watch; how she tapered the pain to just the right level in someone's mind, making them think it was about to end, and then forcing it back on them full blast. It was sort of like an art. He could see why she loved it so much.
The girl dropped to the ground instantly, writhing and screaming in agony. Bella's eyes squeezed shut; Carlisle and Dickwad turned their faces. Paul winced, effectively shutting down his previous line of thought. No matter how stunning it was to watch her dishing it, no one should have to go through that pain. Dead or alive.
He watched as despite the Cullens' protests, the burly blond ripped the girl's head from her body and tossed it into the flames nearby, at her request. They turned to leave, and Paul suddenly wanted to follow, to see the little dictator up close.
As the thought crossed his mind, she turned back around, glancing in his direction. He was well hidden from this distance, but if she got any closer she'd spot him quickly. He stood perfectly still.
And then she closed half the distance between them, a quizzical grin on her face.
"Sister?" the male who looked like her questioned. "What do you see?"
"Why...I believe our dear friends have been hiding a we-" And then her smirk disappeared as she looked into Paul's eyes for the first time.
Her searing, blazing red filled every part of him; it was like staring at blood, roses, and a fiery Hell all at once. She was power and pain, but she was also beauty and grace, and she'd been through things. He could see it deep within their depths; first the surprise, then awe, then a hint of vulnerability and sadness.
It didn't matter. He'd been through things too; he written the motherfucking book on going through things. He thought she would have burned his nose from her proximity, but instead the venom flowing through her veins smelled like freesia and her hair had the faintest scent of pomegranate and apple. There was something else, too; something that was just, her. She was fucking mouthwatering; he wanted to eat her.
Without giving it a second thought, he phased, and her eyes widened, fear cloying at the space between them.
"No," he instantly soothed. "You don't have to be afraid." He covered the remaining space separating them, close enough now to touch her hand. "Never be afraid of me," he chided, breathing in more of her intoxicating scent.
Her mouth twisted strangely; she seemed to be at a loss for words. "H-How...wh-what is this?" she finally demanded, fidgeting slightly under his unwavering stare. She raked a hand through her coiled hair nervously.
Paul reached up and lightly freed it from the tight band it was constrained by. It fell in thick, silky straight strands down her face, neck and back, and the scent hit him harder. She was so much …more with it down.
She caught his hand on the way down, and a charge like a lightning bolt shot through them both. He interloped his fingers with hers, which felt cool, but comforting all the same.
"It's called imprinting," he said quietly. "Simply put, it means you're mine. And I'm yours."