Forgiven (Continued)
Edward's POV
"Your poem was really nice," I heard Newton say. "Where did you get the idea?"
His thoughts were rather different from his spoken words. That blush on her cheeks while she performed was so hot . . . she is so hot, she's definitely already in love with me . . . I should ask her out again. . . .
I clenched my teeth. Stupid, hormonally-charged generic teenager with his one-track mind. He would never, ever take Bella out; never touch her, not while I had something to say about it.
"Um, I don't know . . . I guess, it was sort of sudden . . ." the angel's sweet, clear voice carried over to me, her mind as silent as ever. She was uncomfortable, but there was also a hint of acid in her tone; clearly, she, like me, knew that Newton hadn't really paid attention to the poem.
Yeah, I should ask her now . . . look at how she's looking at me, she's head over heels in love with me . . . yeah, now's the best time.
I scowled. He wouldn't dare . . . but yes, he would. After all, he was her most tenacious suitor, and I had not begun to court her even, so he couldn't know the depth of my love for this angel.
He was going to ask her out now. I could not allow that. Rising abruptly, I made my way in their direction. Bella had been the last to perform; most of the guests were milling around and talking, getting ready to leave in perhaps fifteen minutes or so.
Newton opened his mouth to speak those hideous words, so modern and awkward – will you go out with me. I came up behind them.
"Bella," I said politely, and reveled in her beautiful name, "Are you coming?" I used the smooth, appealing tone that didn't scare humans, so she wouldn't be alarmed.
They spun around to face me. Bella looked a little startled and almost caught off-guard, a warm blush spreading over her cheekbones. Newton looked furious and irritated. I enjoyed his thoughts.
Him. That freak . . . chicks think he's hot, but compared to me . . . He better not be out to steal my girl. . . . I ignored the rest, controlling myself so I wouldn't smirk.
In response to Bella's questioning, embarrassed gaze, I elaborated, "You said I could take you home, remember? Since my car's faster. We'd better get going, I have to be home soon too."
"Oh . . . oh, yeah, Edward. Um, sorry Mike, I'll see you on Monday, OK?" I examined her eyes as she spoke haltingly – she truly was a terrible liar, but that was just another of her virtues. She was so good that she couldn't deceive someone. Whereas I could deceive, and did, all the time, with the ease of a master.
I relished the way she said my name with so much more ease and pleasure than she did Newton's.
Luckily, Newton wasn't paying much attention to her – his eyes were fixed on me. "What do you mean, you're giving her a ride home?" he demanded with self-righteous anger, as though he had a claim on Bella that no one else had.
"I'm so sorry if this caused some sort of disruption in your plans," the words slipped off my tongue like sweet, insincere poison, "But Bella's father drove her here and he already left. She has no way to get home, and we already agreed that I would take her home." I turned to her, softening my expression and voice, so that they were gentle enough to suit her angelic personality. "Are you coming, Bella?"
She stared at me, that lovely blush deepening, her eyes wider than usual. She looked frozen for a moment, but then a shy little smile graced her lips. "Yeah, thanks, Edward." She moved forward hesitantly, waving goodbye at a still-shocked Newton.
I led her outside into the fresh evening air, staying closer to her side than usual. Her dark eyes were bright in the surrounding darkness, her pale skin glowing with her rosy cheeks. Her hair cascaded over her shoulder in gleaming waves. She looked absolutely like a goddess. So much more than "hot."
"Thanks, Edward," she said shyly again, glancing at me. I wished I could read her mind. Was she looking for some sort of reaction to the poem? Was she wondering at this sudden change of attitude?
I had to remind myself to take it slow. Slow and gentle, not to frighten her away with my speed but at the same time not to go too slow. I knew she wouldn't like that, either.
And I had to start off as a friend, not begin my relationship with her like a bomb, already a lover. I didn't even know if she truly loved me as a woman would love a man, I just knew she loved me as a friend, that I had earned her forgiveness.
This was a first for me. Love. I felt like I was stumbling around in a room where I couldn't see a thing. A room filled with the most enticing scent that existed, a soft, beautiful room, a room that made me want to get lost in.
I gazed at her, feasting my hungry eyes. I couldn't get enough of her beauty. "You're welcome," I said, because I couldn't think of anything else to say.
We would talk in the car, I decided. For a moment I wondered what the inside of the car would smell like with her in it . . . and quickly drove the thought out of my head. I would just have to open the window, that was all.
Bella shivered, pulling her thin jacket tighter around her slender torso. Her lips had a blue tinge about them. She was cold. So I couldn't possibly open the window. I would just have to suffer silently, and feel the burn. It would be better than for Bella to be cold.
"Bella," I murmured softly. She looked up at me as I said her name, staring at me with her big chocolate eyes. "You're cold."
And before she could protest, I shrugged out of my beige jacket, which was thicker and warmer than hers, for her to wear. I helped her put it on automatically, an act I had been trained to do since childhood, even by my biological parents, whatever these vile, modern boys did nowadays.
Her shy smile widened slightly into a warmer, dazzling one, her head tilted up to look me in the eyes. I stopped breathing – we were so close, and her body was so warm and soft, not to mention that bone-melting smile. . . .
We had reached the car by now, thankfully. I reached behind her lithe body and opened the door for her, waiting patiently as she slid in clumsily. I could still see her entrancing smile in my mind's eye.
I was in the driver's seat in the blink of an eye. She already knew about me, after all . . . and then, I don't think she even noticed. She was staring at her hands, folded across her lap, lost in her own thoughts.
Silently, I started the car, sliding the Volvo smoothly out of the parking lot. I drove slower than usual, much slower. I wanted as much alone time with her possible.
"Um," Bella said, raising her head to look up at me, "I told Ch– Dad that I'd let Angela or Jess drive me home, he'll . . ." she trailed off uncomfortably.
I couldn't help the gentle smile that spread across my face. "Don't worry. He probably won't see me, not if you don't want him to."
She flushed. I swallowed a chuckle.
"Your poem was beautiful," I murmured to her, starting off slowly.
Bella stared at me. It took her a half-second longer than it should have to answer me. "Thanks."
I allowed another moment of peaceful quiet to pass, and then continued teasingly, "But really, where did you get the inspiration?"
She looked quickly away, as though the sight of my eyes would contaminate her somehow. Scarlet roses bloomed in her cheeks. "You'll laugh if I tell you," she mumbled.
She was so unsure of herself, probably wondering if I had caught her hint, if I was angry or happy, if she misjudged my expressions. I had to prove to her that I loved her. It sounded strange to think it, because in all my imaginings, in all my daydreams as I watched her sleep at night, I had never thought of the confession . . . just what would happen after the confession. In the scenarios I constructed in my head, we had both been deeply in love, had both known of the other's love. But I had completely skipped the confession.
You're going too far ahead of yourself, Edward, I told myself sternly. And I was so arrogant and cocky. After all, Bella may not want me at all, either.
And as unsure of what was going on as she was. I swallowed another chuckle, but this one was darker, less amused.
"Laugh? I don't think so," I countered.
She shook her head, her head still bowed over her lap. She refused to open her mouth.
I made my voice as melodic, persuasive, and smooth as I knew how, twisting sideways and leaning towards her in my driver's seat. The car was cruising slowly down the empty road. "Won't you tell me? Please."
With the hand that wasn't absently gripping the steering wheel, I reached out and tipped her pale chin so I could look her full in the face.
Her skin was so incredibly warm, so bone-meltingly warm compared to my icy touch. I was only touching her chin with the pad of one finger, yet I still felt her heat crystal clear. But it wasn't enough – I wanted more. I wanted to spread my fingers till my whole hand was cupping her face, her jaw, and slide them forward even more, till they were in the roots of her hair and I could feel those silky, brown tresses. Stop the car completely, and pull her over till she was lying across my lap, her deep brown eyes penetrating me till the core. Caress my other hand over her smooth face, run it down her neck, down and across her torso, cup her hip for one moment and then continue further down till my fingers curled around the back of her knees. Move closer still, and press my cold lips to her warm, yielding throat . . . make my way up her neck, over her jaw and ear, and then drift to the side where those full, soft lips rested. . . .
She gazed at me, startled, and I gazed right back. Perhaps she could recognize the love and desire burning in my eyes.
My dead heart thudded as she made no move to jerk away from my touch.
"What was your inspiration, Bella?" I repeated softly, no longer light and teasing.
Once again, that glazed, caught-off-guard expression came over those expressive eyes, and her answer came out as though she had no control over her words. "I had a dream," she said breathlessly. The roses in her cheeks were in their full, awe-inspiring bloom now.
Ah. How I wished I could dream. But I had not heard her speak the word vampire or werewolf in the night, so perhaps she had dreamed it during a night when I was hunting.
"What kind of dream?" I breathed. My hand still trapped her chin, forcing her to face me. Perhaps it was selfish of me, forceful of me, but I wanted to, needed to, have full access to the only way I could guess at her thoughts . . . her expressive eyes.
"The same as the poem . . . exactly the same," she whispered, as caught up in the spell as I was. Electricity crackled in the atmosphere around us.
I was being rude, I knew, asking question after question. I couldn't help it, couldn't stop myself. "Do you have any notion of what may have inspired such a dream?" I murmured.
We were very close to each other now, leaning toward one another, equally dazzled by the spell around us. I realized I had unconsciously stopped the car completely. We were parked in the middle of the road. It was a good thing that it was a small side road, barely that, and there were no cars around.
I had been wrong – the roses in her cheeks had not been in full bloom then. Not quite. Now the bloomed, spectacularly, and spread too, all over her face. The sight was so lovely, so bewitching, hat it would have brought me to my knees had I not been sitting already.
She didn't answer immediately, and I waited.
"I was . . ." she whispered, embarrassed, self-conscious – and then suddenly the words spilled out. "Thinking of you, before I feel asleep. Like every night. Of how you saved my life that day, from Tyler's van, and how you were so fast, and so strong, and so otherworldly . . . and I researched on the computer, too. I had already come to the conclusion that you might be a va- vampire," she stuttered over the word, "and most of what I read was nonsense, just excuses for infidelity a long time ago, but I came across some other texts that made a little sense, and they mentioned werewolves . . . and then I went to bed, I was so exhausted and confused. And then I had that dream . . ." she looked into my eyes, her own chocolate irises vague and searching but also so clear, and so loving.
I wondered what texts those might be . . . but it didn't particularly interest me right now.
Silence hung around us. The night was like a velvet blanket, muffling the world, and only Bella and I existed, in our own bubble, in each other's eyes. I had lost track of time, lost track of everything. The only real light came from the glittering stars above us – it was a moonless night. But the brightest light came from Bella. She was a light, an angel herself.
"Do you really believe I am the hero?" My voice was almost soundless, but it held more emotion, more weight, than the loudest shout.
"Of course," she answered immediately, promptly, like the answer was obvious.
"How do you know?"
Her gaze stroked my face for a second, then returned to look into my own orbs. "I know," she said. "I know." She took a deep breath, her lashes fluttering. "The texts mentioned that vampires have red eyes, from the blood of . . . of humans. It said that you can drink nothing but blood. And I remembered that your eyes are golden – it confused me. I thought about for hours, and then the answer came to me – I couldn't believe it had taken so long, it was right in front of me." She smiled. "After all, humans aren't the only ones with blood, right? There are animals, too. And I remembered your frequent camping trips . . ."
She was so perceptive. I listened as she continued.
"The texts . . . mentioned the hunger. The uncontrollable thirst. The burning, and all that. And yet you drank the blood of animals, and I assumed – I had assumed so much, I saw no harm in assuming some more – that it didn't taste so good, or that it wasn't such an appealing alternative, else the texts would have mentioned it, right? And I remembered your gentle father, a doctor, the one who raised you and your family. And I was filled with compassion for your way of life, your sacrifice, the way you tried."
She bit her lip, then grinned shyly. "You can imagine how I felt a bit foolish after that – thinking about mythological creatures who I knew and feeling sorry that they wanted to suck my blood while they probably didn't exist and I was just going crazy!"
Silly Bella. With that amusing end, she managed to draw a laugh from me and get me out of the tightly wound shell I was in. But I quickly returned to that shell.
I was in shock. With love and gratitude again . . . and with disbelief, too. Yes, disbelief. I could not believe what she was telling me.
After that long speech, Bella locked her lips shut, and I felt no need to break the tender, peaceful silence. It had to be ten by now, at least.
It was cool outside, but the interior of the Volvo was hot and scented with Bella's scent. I felt it wrapping around me, intoxicating, burning, exquisite. My hand was still frozen under her face.
Slowly, slyly, as though it was planning on doing it from the very beginning, the atmosphere began to charge with the tense, wonderful electricity again.
Her wide, chocolate-brown eyes were filled with warmth. My alien hand tortuously unfolding itself. I felt like I was a spectator, like I wasn't in control of my own hand. With the sweetest tension, my hand, twice as large as hers, cupped her jaw.
Carefully, Edward, I told myself, carefully. Act as gently as you can, even more so, like you're stroking a bubble of soap, or a china doll. One wrong move and you could crush her skull. I cringed internally at the thought.
My right hand, the one cupping her jaw, slid forward until it gripped the roots of her hair. My left hand came up of its own accord and caressed her cheekbone, so gently I could scarcely feel it. Her heat enveloped me, her racing heartbeat was the sweetest, sweetest music.
To the accompaniment of that music, I leaned forward until my face was inches from hers. Her enticing breath blew across my face, so potent, so concentrated, but this time the bloodlust was gone. All that was left was the lust. . . .
My left hand stroked her features. Her temples, her cheekbones, her nose . . . it skimmed down and rubbed tenderly across her bottom lip. She shuddered involuntarily, with the expression of one locked in the gaze of a snake . . . but I couldn't pull away. I couldn't.
"So," I whispered, and my breath fanned her long hair back slightly, "You . . . forgive me?"
"Forever and always," she answered, her eyes surprisingly open, vulnerable.
"Angel," I breathed, and I cupped both my hands around her face. "Angel."
One eternal second hung, like the world was standing still, holding it's breath, and then she sucked in a haggard, ragged breath, and I realized Bella hadn't been breathing either. Her heartbeat, too, had gone completely uneven – and for a moment it hadn't been beating at all.
This was dangerous, but it brought me back to my senses. With barely a second thought I started the car again and sped down the road, without looking forward. I didn't think Bella even realized we were driving again – her eyes were still glazed and her mouth was slightly open.
I had to be careful. So careful. She was so, so delicate.
We reached her secluded house minutes later. Bella shifted and started in surprise when she saw her house, and I couldn't help the chuckle that escaped my mouth.
"Oh, well . . . I guess . . ." she mumbled uncertainly.
I noticed she didn't say goodbye. Not yet. It was like she didn't want to leave. That gave me hope.
But I had to leave. I had to get home to my family – Alice, definitely, would be jumping up and down in excitement because she could probably see the future change, yet again, and that she would get a best friend now. And Bella needed to get inside her home and go to Charlie, and eat dinner, and go to sleep. That made me smile – after all, I would come back, when she slept. Reunion would be sooner for me than for her.
"I'll see you tomorrow at school," I said softly. She nodded. The roses in her cheeks were showing no sign of wilting. I felt elated, euphoria at the beautiful scarlet.
Bella stepped out of the Volvo carefully, like she was taking extra care not to trip. She looked at me one last time, and then walked to the door. She turned there; stared at me again through the car window, and raised her hand in a wave. I raised my hand in return.
She opened the door, a soft smile on her face, and then she was gone from my sight.
I gazed after her, the loveliest woman in existence. Her scent, heady and sweet and intoxicating, still filled the car, as did her warm. The electricity had barely begun to fade.
We were good friends now. But we would be more than that.
I smiled as I drove away. I would be back as soon as possible, in any case.