Cullen had tried to tell himself that he would be able to do the deed impartially should it have become necessary. He had lied, told himself that killing her would be like killing any other mage gone wrong. But deep down inside his cold dark heart he knew he would have taken a sick joy in killing her. That was why he should stay away from her, yet he was so fraught with concern after her harrowing that he stayed and watched over her.
Cullen stripped off his breastplate, his paler than pale skin almost milk white. He poured a bucket of water over his beautiful chest, rivulets of the liquid flowing across his abdominal muscles. He looked like a perfectly carved statute, hewn by angels. His hair inexplicably flopped across his forehead seeming to be far longer when wet for no apparent reason. He was too perfect for this world so it was a shame that no one was there to witness him in his full dripping wet glory, other than the mouse peeking out of the nearby mouse hole. The effect was only slightly ruined by the fact he was wearing what amounted to a battle skirt.
"I must conquer this, I must conquer her," Cullen muttered to himself as the water dripped across his pale skin. He began to do stretches that showed off his muscles more for no real reason. His nipples were almost as pale as the rest of him and did we mention that every bare gleaming inch of his revealed skin was bare of hair? He never seemed to actually shave or wax anything, but the only body hair he had was on his face. We won't speculate on what he looked like beneath the battle skirt because this is supposed to be aimed at teenage girls.
He couldn't deny himself the truth any longer, he wanted her and it was wrong. He wanted to do things to her, bad sick naughty wrong things, like put his pee-pee in her no-no place. It was against the teachings, against the Maker. It couldn't be a normal feeling, he wasn't sure if he wanted to love her... or eat her.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Bella was depressed and, as she was a teenage girl, it was the worstest thing ever that could ever happen to anyone, like. She had every reason to be happy, she was young and had just passed her mage harrowing, but she was just so sad. The fact that Cullen hadn't wanted to talk to her made her wonder if there was something awfully wrong with her and that was why he didn't want to talk to her. Was she really that awful? Sure, she was a mage and thus cursed to possess foul and unnatural powers and one slip would lead to demonic possession and certain death at the hands of those she lived with and dared call friends even though earlier in the story she was terrified of them. But was being a mage really all that bad?
She looked at her reflection in the mirror: She had a nose-shaped nose and hair-coloured hair. How awful, who could ever love a girl like that? No wonder Cullen ran away from her. A single tear rolled down her pale skin. Had anyone who ever lived ever know such exquisite misery as what she suffered?
She wiped her face and returned to reading Lothering Heights, her favourite novel. Maybe one day she'd meet a tall dark and dangerous man who would sweep her off her feet and keep her safe from all the dark dangerous things the world contained. It would sure beat living in an isolated tower prison, that's for sure.
