CHAPTER THREE
My compulsion to visit Edward, to study him for longer and longer periods of time than the allotted three hours per day, grew steadily more difficult to manage. In order to prove my control over my personal wishes, I denied that which I had come to crave. I took time off, away from my most compelling subject, and instead concentrated on other assignments. I sent my assistant, Michael, in my place for two days straight, until I realized I spent as much time obsessing about Edward whether I saw him or not. I was just obsessed, period. I tossed aside the amateur reports on Michael's sessions, consisting mostly of his observations as Edward refused to speak to him after the first few interactions. Refused to move, as well, it appeared from the detailed account of…pretty much nothing but Michael's increasing frustration and boredom. I snorted a laugh at Edward's antics, and then felt guilty for being amused at the expense of my colleague because of a creature no better, really, than an animal.
And wasn't that a lie.
Increasingly discomfited by my unusual and unexpected feelings, I sought William's advice and counsel. No one was more levelheaded and blunt than my superior. I would lay out everything I'd seen, heard, and done over the past weeks, leaving nothing out to save me from embarrassment, and see where I stood at the end.
"Frankly, I'd be worried if you weren't experiencing some level of attraction." William guffawed at my incredulous expression. "Vampires are programmed at the most basic level to attract their prey—humans. To eat. We're programmed to maintain our existence, to seek shelter, eat, breathe, procreate. Vampires don't need shelter. They don't breathe. They don't even live, really. They certainly don't procreate. The one thing they're designed to do with no other purpose is eat. To do that, they must attract and lure the most skittish, intelligent, and difficult of prey. Humans. He wouldn't be a vampire if he didn't attract you, and you wouldn't be human if you weren't attracted. If I saw a problem with your conduct, reports, or had the slightest concern about your mental state, I would have pulled you in a long time ago, Bella. You're my best and brightest, assigned to their best and brightest that we've found so far. I expect you'll deliver great things."
"Thank you," I murmured, dazed.
I was flattered he thought so highly of me, pressured he expected so much, and above all, relieved. But even that was tempered with another reaction I felt in the recesses of my soul. I was relieved he didn't see anything wrong with my conduct or reaction, but mostly I was relieved I wouldn't have to stop seeing Edward.
Oh, boy.
-o-o-o-o-
"Hello, Edward."
He turned his head from where he had been staring at the blank wall, and an expression of true pleasure flashed across his face before it eased into his gentle smile. My stomach fluttered in a very unprofessional way, but I had come to terms with my subject and the reactions he caused, so I let it pass.
"Hello. You were gone the past couple of days."
"Yes. I'm sorry for that."
"Why would you be sorry?" He tilted his head, eyes sparking with amusement and curiosity.
I looked down at my laptop, a warm flush rising in my cheeks. Once again, I was glad for the opaque barrier that hid my responses. When I spoke, my voice was cool with friendly professionalism.
"I take it my assistant was not an acceptable substitute."
He snorted softly. "No. Not at all. He got Milton and Dante confused within the first five minutes he tried to engage me."
"Heathen," I murmured, a smile curving my lips that echoed on his.
"Philistine," he agreed, and we laughed.
"I didn't realize how much I counted on your voice to break the monotony of the hours until you didn't show up for our sessions," he admitted, running a hand through the banked fire of his hair.
"A monotony breaker, huh?" I considered that. "I've been called worse. You're so bored you actually look forward to my incessant badgering and questions? Glutton for punishment, I'd say."
"Your voice is the bright spot I look forward to for twenty-one hours. I'd look forward to it even if I had a choice. I mean, if I wasn't…here."
An uncomfortable silence descended at his referral to his captivity. He was right. He had no choice. I was a poor substitute for his freedom, no matter my stellar conversation skills, but the alternative was a fantasy I'd never been foolish enough to consider—an alternate universe where we could be friends and enjoy each other's company as equals. We were far from equal. He could crush me like an insignificant bug, and not just physically.
"Are you ever going to let me see through that barrier?" he asked suddenly, gaze searching the edges of the dark glass.
"Do you want me to?" I countered after a second.
He did his shrugging thing, the one he'd somehow copied from me. "You can see me whenever you'd like. I must admit to some curiosity, wondering what you look like. I hear your voice every day. I know your thoughts, your tones, some aspects of your personality, but not your appearance."
"Well, how about a little quid pro quo? You tell me about your family, and I'll consider clearing the glass."
His expression didn't change, but his features went from warm curiosity to cold forbiddance. He spun on his heel, his shoulders tensed and then relaxing as he regained his usual calm and walked toward the bed. "Is this some kind of real life version of Hannibal Lecter, Clarice? You study the serial killer, get some insight into his mind? Is that what this is to you?"
I chose my words carefully. He had relaxed, his voice its usual velvet timbre, but I'd roused the monster by mentioning his family. Interesting.
"That's part of it, Edward. You know it is. To humans, you are a serial killer. You eat people. Hannibal Lecter is an appropriate comparison, to be honest."
"Human," he mused. "Humans. To humans, I'm a serial killer. And to you? What am I to you? Do you lump yourself in with the masses of humanity? Is that all I am—we are—to you?"
"I'm human," I whispered.
"You are." The first note of impatience crept into his tone. "And no doubt about it. But you didn't answer my question."
"You didn't answer mine."
"Ask another."
"I want to stay with that one."
"No. My family is off limits. Ask another."
"All right, Edward."
I let it go for the moment and skillfully wove my way around the obstacles he'd erected. I'd try another subject he avoided. Maybe I could get insight to another closely guarded part of him while he was distracted.
"Do you remember being changed?"
He lifted a brow and sent me a smirk, detecting my change of subject and the reason behind it.
"Yes."
"You said you had few clear memories of being human. Is that because the change was unexpected? Against your will or traumatic?"
"Against my will? I was beyond will when Car—When I was changed. And yes. I'm sure you've studied the details. Being changed is definitely traumatic."
"But it isn't always painful. When you bite—feed." I sat forward, studying him intently. It was a subject I was obsessively curious about. We had so little real data, and so few subjects willing to discuss the issue freely.
"No. Feeding isn't always painful for the…food. It can be, but we have the ability to make it pleasant. Forgettable, if we so chose. Traumatic, as you said. Or quite blissful."
"Blissful?"
"Orgasmic." He leered and then laughed. "You're curious."
"Of course. There's not much information on the process."
"No, I don't imagine there is."
"Will you tell me? Can you describe the difference, how you make it so?"
He sat in thought, that maddening half-smile on his face. "I don't think I can."
"Edward—"
"I'm not evading the question. It's just… There are no words to describe it. It's not something that can be explained. I just think it, and it is. If I'm angry, I can make it painful. If I'm hungry, I can make it forgettable. If I'm aroused, well… I can make it absolutely and unequivocally the most amazing experience in your human existence."
His voice had dropped to a husky, intimate whisper. I was on the edge of my seat, gripping the counter in damp hands, clenching my thighs, perspiration dewing my skin as I panted lightly. Holy shit.
"Does that answer your question?"
I swallowed heavily, and then again.
"Answered, yes," I managed to say smoothly, still gripping the counter until my knuckles were white. "But created so many more."
He laughed. "I imagine so. My turn?"
"Your turn?"
"Quid pro quo." He grinned mischievously. "Do I get to ask you a question?"
I thought carefully before answering. "Yes. But I reserve the right to not answer, just like you."
"Hm." He rose to pace around the perimeter of the room, head bent, appearing deep in thought. I'd bet my precious laptop that he'd formed the exact question he wanted to ask before he'd started playing his little game. He was clever, but so was I.
"You've been studying us for a long time." He didn't phrase it as a question. I kept silent and waited him out, not giving him any freebies, but forcing him to ask. "It makes me wonder."
Again, I said nothing, although I very much wanted to ask what he wondered. And he knew it, the clever little monster.
"I mean, I know your work is important to you. You don't answer questions or let me see you, not yet. But one can tell quite a lot from tone and inflection if one is observant." He gave a negligent shrug. "And I am. So. It makes me wonder what you'd do for the sake of your research. And this is wondering, not asking. Not yet. Do you give up a personal life? Your time, energy, attention, passion? Do you spend it all on your work? So, here it is—my question for you."
He brought his head up and once again looked directly at me through the opaque barrier in that disconcerting habit he had.
"Would you give up your life?"
I sat in stunned silence. Before I knew it, my finger had gone to the button that would cut off the audio feed in automatic self-defense, but I hesitated.
"How do you mean?" It took all my willpower to keep my voice steady and clinical, but I wondered at my success when a faintly triumphant look flickered across his features.
"You can only understand so much from observing, interviewing, talking to your subjects. Isn't experiencing it firsthand the best way to learn?" His voice dropped to a mesmerizing timbre as he stared directly into my eyes. I didn't even question it anymore. "Have you ever considered…that is, have you ever thought… Have you ever wanted to become one of us?"
I drew in a sharp breath and jerked back in my chair. My heart pounded as I stared at his beguiling, alluring face. I was glad—not for the first time—that he couldn't see me.
"Ah." He lowered his eyelids. Long, thick lashes swept the upper arch of his cheekbone. His eyes glittered as he tilted his head back and inhaled, chest expanding, fine nostrils flaring. "That excites you. Interesting."
I realized I was trembling.
He was right. I was excited. And I'd just been played by a master.
Said it once before but it bears repeating now - thanks for the beta and support Sarahsumbrella and SunKing.
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