Because it's been quite a while since the last update, a few readers have suggested a quick synopsis at the beginning of each chapter (which is a great idea, and I'm sorry I didn't think of it before). So, here's a quick and dirty summary of what has happened so far:

Edward kidnaps Bella, ends up giving her the choice between dying now or dying later, and they spend the night having really hot sex. 3 days later she wakes up as a vampire, they do it some more, then he takes her to a meadow where he has her first meal waiting. She eats 4 people, then flips her shit when she realizes what she did. She decides to kill herself, since she can't bear to kill people, and Edward throws a huge temper tantrum before showing her how to hunt animals. He says he is going to take her to meet his family, then they go back to the house and have sex some more. He finally tells her why he changed her instead of killing her, and she admits that she wouldn't change things if she could. In the last chapter there was a sort of sweet scene where Edward brushed her hair, which led to her getting jealous of all the other girls she imagines came before. This leads to Edward finally telling her a little about his family, namely Esme and Rosalie. Then he gets all moody and needy, basically mauling her while sitting at the dining room table.

This chapter jumps around in time a little bit, much like chapter 3 did, with line breaks separating the different sections. You may want to go re-read the last few lines of chapter 7, so that you recognize where you are when it pics up from that spot a little ways down.

There are a few lines taken directly from Twilight, and a few that are not quite direct quotes but come very close. All characters and recognizable story components belong to Stephenie Meyer, I just made them do some really bad things. No copyright infringement is intended.


I sat in the library, curled up in a dark brown leather chair, trying to read. It wasn't working out very well. Romeo and Juliet, although as warm and comfortable as an old friend, was completely failing to attract even a fraction of my interest, much less hold onto it. Just like the half dozen other books I had tried before it, and that now sat stacked in a pile on top of the small table next to my seat.

I should have been in heaven, immersed in the faintly musty smell of old paper and leather, surrounded by everything from first edition classics to last month's New York Times best sellers. Instead I was restless and ill tempered, trying unsuccessfully to shake the feeling of having been grounded.

Stay in the house, Isabella. I mean it, not one foot outside that door; do you understand?

Not that I would have gone, anyway, but the injunction still rankled. Did he really feel like he had to order me around? Couldn't he have just asked me to stay put for the night? Really, what did he think I was going to do? Run away?

Finally giving up trying to focus on the words in front of me, I slammed the cover shut and added the volume to the top of my pile of discards. Throwing myself up and out of the chair with a huff, I began to pace back and forth across the room as I muttered to myself about overbearing, possessive, domineering control-freaks.

Glancing at the antique-looking heavy wooden clock that sat on the mantle, I saw that it was a little past midnight. Edward had been gone for almost three hours.

I should be back before morning. I trust you can keep yourself occupied until then without getting into too much trouble.

I had spent the first hour wandering the house, exploring all the rooms I hadn't had the opportunity to familiarize myself with yet, and wondering at some of the inconsistencies I found. There were the top-of-the-line fridge, range, and dishwasher in a kitchen that was devoid of food, dishes, and cookware. Bathrooms stocked with towels and toiletries, but that sported empty toilet-paper holders. Lamps that weren't needed sat on tables next to couches, chairs, and beds that nobody slept in.

It was like walking around inside of a movie set. An oh-so-slightly dusty movie set.

One of the main reasons that I had settled into the library once I stumbled across it was because—unlike much of the rest of the house—it almost had a lived-in feel to it. Chairs and a small sofa that didn't look as if they were display pieces in some upscale furniture store. Books, magazines, and the odd newspaper littering the tops of various small tables scattered around the room. Actual scuffs in the upholstery of the footstool sitting directly across from the chair I had been curled up in. As if somebody spent a significant amount of time sitting there, feet up and relaxed.

Which had absolutely nothing to do with why I had settled into that particular seat as I tried to occupy myself with one book after another. Nothing at all.

Two hours later and I was about to go out of my mind. Cleaning supplies had been located and every surface in the house sparkled and shined. The last few remaining feathers and bits of debris had been scrupulously eliminated from the master bedroom. The pile of books I had left discarded in the library had been carefully re-shelved.

Now I was standing in the front hall, motionless and staring at the door as I wrestled with the urge to open it. I wanted out, and although boredom was my primary motivation, I had to admit that a tiny part of me wanted to do it just because Edward had specifically ordered me not to.

All right, maybe it was more like 50/50.

I took another step closer, toying with the idea. Did he really think he had the right to boss me around? To tell me what I could and couldn't do, where I could and couldn't go? That he could just say, "Stay," and I would do it, for no other reason than because he said so? Was this really a precedent that I wanted to set?

Then again, I didn't relish the thought of his anger, either. Or, even worse, disappointment. Breaking the only rule he had set down the very first time he left me on my own would be a massive breach of trust, and I was already skating on thin enough ice after the way I had behaved earlier. No, it was best to just stay put for now, and try to get back into his good graces. There would be plenty of other opportunities to assert my independence.

4:00 found me back in the library once again, reading through the titles and mentally cataloguing the placement of books I wanted to come back and check out later. I would have to ask Edward if we could take some of these with us when we—

I froze at the distant sound of an engine approaching, immediately recognizing the car Edward had driven off in the night before.

I was there to meet him at the front door, just barely managing to restrain myself from running outside. I wasn't sure if the ban on leaving the house still held now that he was home, but I wasn't about to take the chance. I hadn't fought temptation for the last few hours only to ruin everything in the final seconds.

The very instant he appeared in the doorway, however, all restraint was thrown out the window as I launched myself toward the open door.


My fingertips rubbed gently across Edward's head, creating small, soothing circles as they slipped through the coppery mess. The frenzy seemed to have passed; his arms still held me almost impossibly close, his face buried into the crook of my neck, but all was still and quiet now. Only the slight rise and fall of his chest, synchronized with the light puffs of breath against my skin.

I didn't know what to say, and didn't want to risk shattering this small bit of peace we seemed to have found, so I stayed silent and let my fingers continue to soothe and stroke.

"You can't imagine how good that feels."

His voice was hushed—as if he, also, was hesitant to disturb the tranquil mood. I hummed a bit, and let my lips curve into a small smile.

It was a heady feeling, this power that I was finally beginning to accept that I possessed. The idea that I had the ability to bring this fierce creature to his knees, that I could hurt him with my words or actions, was still terrifying; but if it meant that I could also do this—that I could soothe his demons, calm the storms that raged inside—well, I could learn to live with it.

With great power comes great responsibility. I didn't know where the words came from, but I accepted their truth. It was a double-edged sword, this strange bond that we had. It could cut and cleave if wielded carelessly, could demolish and destroy so very easily. We could carve one another into pieces with nothing more than a word, a look. By the same token, a simple touch could make everything that was wrong in the world simply fade away. Every smile shone with the light of a thousand suns.

My hands were clumsy and shaking under the weight that filled them, but I resolved in that moment that I would learn to hold it steady and sure.

Time passed easily for a while, until a quiet voice once again broke the silence.

"I have to go somewhere tonight, and I need you to stay here."

I didn't answer. Not because I didn't know what to say, but because I suddenly had no breath to speak with, and seemed to have lost the ability to obtain more. He was leaving me? When? Why? For how long?

Arms tightened around me the slightest bit, and his words began to come faster.

"It will only be for the night, possibly not even that long, but I can't take you with me. It's not safe, not yet."

The constriction in my chest eased slightly at his words, and I pulled in a long breath. One night. I could do that.

"Okay."

He finally loosened his grip, pulling away just enough so that he could look into my face. His gaze was searching as it probed mine; he was probably trying to figure out why I was being so uncharacteristically agreeable.

"Okay? That's it?"

I shrugged, cocking my head slightly to the side. "What do you want me to say?"

"I thought you would have a thousand and one questions. You usually do."

My hands were still buried in his hair, and I rested my arms against his shoulders as I leaned forward. "I do. But I'm sort of enjoying the peace and quiet right now."

Edward seemed confused for a moment, and then looked down. When he raised his face again, it was with a slightly rueful expression. "I have an awful temper, sometimes."

I kept my gaze steady, resisting the urge to smirk at him. Because…hello, captain obvious.

"I want…" his voice tapered off, and his brow furrowed as he seemed to search for words. "I don't want you to be afraid."

I tilted my head forward, until my forehead rested against his. "I'm not afraid of you." It wasn't exactly a lie.

Feather-light brushes of lips along my cheek, just as soft as the voice that whispered against my skin, "Such a brave little lamb."

"I thought we agreed it was lack of self-preservation?" I turned my head a bit, looking for his lips. "And I'm not a lamb any more."

Soft, sweet kisses against soft, sweet lips. Slow. Quiet and gentle and languid and lovely and perfect.

Until I tried to slide closer, and open my mouth, and found myself being gently pushed away, instead.

"Don't."

Something strange happened in the hollow stillness of my chest, almost a ripping sensation, and I pulled back in surprise and dismay.

"Why not?"

"Because we both know what will happen if we start that right now."

"And that would be a bad thing, why?"

"We've been over this, Isabella. There isn't time—"

I threw myself off his lap, moving several feet away before turning to glare. "You keep saying that! There's so much to do, and there isn't time, and we have to leave soon…and yet here we still are!"

"Exactly! Here we still are, days behind schedule, because of precisely that kind of distraction."

"Distraction? I'm a distraction?"

"Damn it, Isabella, you know that's not—"

"No, that's fine. By all means, go. Don't let me continue to distract you from whatever's so damn important." I turned and made my way toward the door, muttering to myself. "Although you didn't seem to mind being distracted a little whi—" I hadn't even made it halfway across the room before I found myself yanked back around by my arm. Startled, I whipped my head up to see Edward's narrowed eyes.

"You," he ground out, both hands now gripping me just above the elbows, "are the most infuriating creature."

"Well, I guess that makes me just perfect for you, then!" I snapped back.

We continued to glare tensely at each other for a few seconds, but then something changed. Edward's face softened just the slightest bit, and his hands relaxed their grip before sliding up to rest on my shoulders. Then he smiled. That slow, brilliant, stomach-knotting, breath-stealing, knee-weakening smile.

"It does, doesn't it?"

Then, with one light brush of his knuckles across my cheek, he was gone, leaving me a melted puddle of goo in the middle of the floor.

Damn him.

I was still standing in the same spot, trying to figure out exactly what had just happened here, when Edward reappeared in the room carrying a few small items in one hand. He grabbed my wrist with his free hand as he passed me, pulling me in his wake as he made his way back over to the table. Setting the items down and releasing his grip on me, he turned and cupped my chin in one hand, tilting it up until I met his gaze.

"This won't hurt, but it will be slightly uncomfortable."

A few seconds later I was standing with my back to the wall, looking at the lens of a camera through the cloudy film that covered my eyes, and peevishly thinking that uncomfortable was an understatement. I smiled dutifully when instructed, trying not to focus my eyes on the microscopic scratches and warped sections of the contacts as the camera clicked, and clicked, and then clicked again. The very moment it dropped away from Edward's face, those babies were gone.

He showed me how to stow them away in the little plastic case, then was once more towing me along behind him as he strode out of the room and down the hall, hand firmly clamped around my wrist once again. And okay, I had had just about enough of that.

Digging my heels in, I yanked my hand out of his grasp and crossed my arms over my chest as I stood there in the hallway and glared at the back of his head. He had stopped immediately when I pulled away, and now stood motionless, his shoulders pulled tight.

"Isabella."

"Edward."

"Do you think," his voice was tight and controlled, "that you could try," he turned to face me now, and I had to force myself not to take a step back from the expression on his face, "to be just a little. Less. Aggravating?"

Aggravating? Because I didn't like being pulled around like a dog on a leash? My temper rose, and I could feel my chin lifting as I ground my teeth together.

"That depends. Do you think you could try to be just a little. Less. High-handed?" I refused to acknowledge the fluttering in my stomach, the anticipation that buzzed through me as Edward visibly worked to keep his temper held in check. He took a single step toward me, and I almost stopped breathing when I saw his fingers twitch slightly. Then he stopped.

One second. Two. Three.

"Fine. I'll be upstairs if you need anything." With that he spun on his heel, and once again strode down the hallway toward the front of the house. I stood frozen for a moment before taking off after him, and made it to the bottom of the staircase just as he reached the top.

"Will you at least tell me where it is that we're going?" I called up to him.

He stood there for a moment, one foot on the stairs, one on the second floor, as he seemed to have some kind of internal debate. Finally he turned slightly so that he could look down at me, and his lip curled a bit—as if the single word he spoke tasted foul on his tongue.

"Alaska."

Then he was gone, and I was left alone to wonder.

What was wrong with Alaska? Why was he insisting on taking me there, if the thought held such repugnance for him?

And why did I have this strangely empty feeling, like I had just lost something, when I was pretty sure that I had actually won this latest little skirmish? I made my point, Edward quit dragging me around, I didn't get yelled at, and he told me where he was going instead of stalking off to God only knew where. It should have been a win on all counts. But still, instead of being sweet, these little victories always seemed to taste like dirt in my mouth, and I didn't understand why.

Actually, that wasn't entirely true. I did know why; it was just difficult to admit the fact that Edward had become like a drug to me, even if it was only to myself. Being with him, even when we were spitting mad and at each others' throats, was still infinitely preferable to being away from him. I was addicted, and there was no use pretending otherwise.

With a sigh, I headed up the stairs. I had promised myself that I would spend some time in front of a mirror at the earliest opportunity, and now seemed as good a time as any. Then I would go find my wayward vampire, and this time it would take more than a closed door to keep me from him.

*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*

"What's wrong with Alaska?"

I was standing in the doorway to what looked like some kind of home office, watching Edward as he mapped out what would apparently be our route as we traveled north. No matter how badly I wanted to be within touching distance, I wasn't about to get any closer than that to the shiny, pretty, expensive looking Macbook sitting on the desk.

"There's nothing wrong with Alaska. It's beautiful country. Remote. Full of wildlife. Sparsely populated. A fairly ideal location, in all actuality." The words sounded good, but did nothing to explain his tense demeanor.

"Then what's the problem?"

The chair spun around suddenly, and Edward's fingers pressed deeply into the arms as he leaned toward me. "The problem is that there is a whole other country between here and there, and you need some kind of valid identification to cross in or out of the U.S. through Canada. That means you need a new identity, which takes time. Then I have to worry about getting you across without slaughtering the border officers when they stop the car for inspection, which is by no means a sure thing."

"Oh."

"Yes, 'Oh.'"

"Is that all?"

My poor attempt at levity was apparently very much unappreciated, judging by the glare I received.

"Isn't that enough?"

"I mean, can't we avoid all of that? If we went on foot instead of taking the car, we wouldn't have to worry about any of those things."

He was still glaring. "Do you honestly think that I haven't already considered that? Even with the danger, this is still the safest way."

I really had no argument for that. I had no experience in these matters, and had to trust in Edward's judgment. I still wondered, though…

"If it's really that difficult, why don't we just wait until I have better control? What's the big rush?"

The silence stretched on as we both remained motionless, and it soon became obvious that I wasn't going to get an answer. Why was he always so damn secretive about everything?

"Why, Edward? Damn it! Why can't you just talk to me? Why does everything have to be so difficult? Why can't you just…" I couldn't finish, unsure of what else there was to say. I turned to leave, but didn't even make it out of the doorway before I was stopped by his rushed words.

"Ask me anything else."

I glanced over my shoulder to see him standing in front of the chair, hand half-lifted toward me before it dropped down to his side. Did he really mean it? Slowly turning back around, I cocked my head to the side as I studied his expression. Yes, it looked like he really did.

My brain flipped through a thousand questions as I stood there looking at him. From easy to hard, trivial to important, I considered and discarded them all. I wanted to take advantage of this opportunity, but at the same time I didn't want to push too hard. Finally I settled on something that, while not actually important in the grand scheme of things, had nevertheless been puzzling me for days.

"I have been wondering about one thing. While I was changing, I remember you coming in the room; you said I was beautiful, and that the next year was going to be difficult. I had no idea what you meant at the time, until you told me what most newborns are like—about how thirst is all they really know or care about for the first year or two. So does that mean that you didn't think we would be…like…we are…to begin with?"

The corners of his mouth tugged up slightly. "You mean, did I expect you to jump on me mere seconds after waking up?"

"No…yes…I mean, that's not exactly…" I looked down, trying to order my words so that they made sense. Why was this so hard? He took pity on me after a couple of seconds, stepping forward and using one finger to tilt my chin up toward him.

"No, Isabella. I knew that it would happen eventually, but I didn't think we would be physically intimate for quite some time—something that I am more than happy to have been wrong about, by the way. I honestly don't know if I would have been able to survive an entire year without touching you. But was that really what you wanted to know?"

"Um, not really. I mean, yes, but it was more as a clarification before I asked…" I looked back down and took a deep breath, steeling myself before raising my eyes once more and looking directly into his. "Edward, why don't I have any underwear?"

Silence.

More silence.

But this was different. This wasn't Edward refusing to answer my questions.

No, this was Edward speechless. Flustered. And it was much, much more satisfying than I could have imagined.

"I mean, you thought of everything else," I continued. "It just doesn't make sense that you would have overlooked something so basic. At first I assumed…well, I'm sure you know what I thought. But if you weren't planning on us being…intimate…then I have to wonder what your reasoning was."

As the seconds ticked past it became obvious that—once again—I wasn't going to receive an answer. I was disappointed, irritated, but somehow not surprised. Shaking my head, I turned to leave once more, throwing one last parting remark back over my shoulder.

"I should have known. So much for 'Ask me anything else.'"

He didn't try to stop me this time as I stalked down the hallway, but a wayward thought halted me in my tracks just seconds later. Turning around, I retraced my steps back to the office, meeting Edward's eyes as I once more stood in the doorway.

"While you're off doing whatever tonight, you can find a Wal-Mart or something and rectify that little oversight. Because I can tell you one thing, Edward Cullen, and that is that there is no way in Hell that I am going to be braless when I meet your parents!"


Arms wrapped tightly around me as I threw myself into them, and I buried my face into the little indentation where his neck met his shoulder—that perfect spot that I just knew had been created especially for me.

All my earlier restlessness and frustration melted away, unable to stand in the face of the calm tranquility that swept through me as hands stroked up and down my back. I pushed my nose deeper into him, just breathing and taking and being. And I wanted to say that I was sorry, that I had missed him, but all that came out was a soft hum.

It was almost as if he understood the words that I couldn't say, as I felt his jaw move against my temple and one hand slide under the hem of my shirt to rest on the bare skin of my back. Then we just stood there, calm and still and wrapped up in each other, far away from the tempers and the hurt and the harsh words of yesterday.

After a while, his hands slipped around my sides to grasp my waist lightly, gently pushing until I had to lift my face away from its comfortable spot in his neck. Letting my own hands fall away, I kept my eyes lowered as I stepped back and let out a sigh. This was where he told me, once again, that there were things to do, preparations to be made, and I was determined to be an adult about it. I wouldn't get angry, or clingy, or try and make him feel guilty for doing what needed to be done.

But I found myself tethered, the hands around my waist refusing to release me as I tried to retreat another step, holding me captive even as they pushed me away. Confused, I finally raised my eyes to his, trying to figure out what he wanted from me. I was getting used to the push and pull, but both at the same time was more than I knew what to do with.

None of the things I expected to see were there to greet me; there was no distance or caution, no indecision, no glassy smooth mask in place. Instead there was an almost mischievous glint in the eyes that met mine, a playful grin threatening to melt me where I stood.

"What?" Not that I didn't want his smile, because lord only knew what that grin did to my insides. But usually they had to be won, like treasured prizes handed out for a battle well fought. I didn't know what to do with one given so freely. I couldn't think of any reason why he would be smiling down at me right now—what I had done to deserve it—and it was starting to make me nervous.

"You didn't leave the house."

I felt my brows pull together into a frown, and took a brief moment to feel smug. I hadn't even had to think about it.

"You told me not to." That still rankled, but I was trying to get over it. I had done a lot of thinking while he was gone, and had finally come to the conclusion that I was going to have to learn to pick my battles where Edward was concerned if this thing between us was going to work. And, once the decision was made, there was no time like the present to start practicing.

"Hmmm." One hand lifted from my waist, and I felt his thumb sweep softly along the line of my jaw, back and forth, over and over. "I wasn't sure whether or not you would actually listen, though. You do have a tendency to be rather…stubborn." I let my eyes drift closed as one hand slipped back under my shirt, palm firm and warm against the small of my back pulling me close once more. His lips had replaced his thumb now, but I could still feel the shape of his smile against my skin.

"Stubborn."

Teeth scraped gently across my collarbone.

"Disobedient."

Light nip at my earlobe.

"I was half convinced you would have gone at least as far as the porch."

One hand was tangled in my hair now, pulling my head back so that my neck was bared for the soft kisses that pressed against it. Fingers of the opposite hand played with the waistband of my jeans, dipping underneath before stroking upward once more, leaving throbbing heat in their wake.

"You were just hoping for an excuse to spank me again."

He froze briefly before lifting his face from my neck, eyes wide and shocked as they stared down at me. And the trickling little wellspring of bravery that had prompted my words almost dried up to nothing. Would have, if not for the slight tightening of his hands on my skin, the way his lower body nudged even closer in to me, even as his torso leaned away. Oh, yes, he wanted. The trickle grew to a flood, and I dared.

"But I didn't disobey. I was good." Lifting my hands up, I let my fingers weave themselves into his hair, tugging slightly. Reaching out and taking what I wanted. "So, tell me, Edward," I licked my lips, watching as his stare riveted itself onto my mouth, his own falling open slightly on an exhale. "If bad girls get punished, then shouldn't good girls get a reward?"

His eyes were suddenly back on mine, narrowed and suspicious; but his hands were still firm and strong as they held me pulled tight against him.

"And just what did you have in mind?"

"You." I held my breath, waiting.

"You have me." He didn't get it; I could tell by the slight tilt to his head, the bemused expression that had replaced the suspicious look of a moment ago. Taking a deep breath, I gathered up my courage to lay it all out there.

"I want you. I want one whole day, where you don't go anywhere or do anything, except me. I don't want to hear that there isn't time, or that you have too much to do, or that we need to leave. I just want one last day where it's only us, before I have to face the rest of the world. I want you."

He was quiet for several seconds, studying me, before he spoke.

"One day? You're sure that's what you want?"

That certainly sounded promising, and excitement bubbled despite my best efforts not to get my hopes up too high. I nodded my head, never moving my eyes from his. I thought that I saw something flash, but it was there and gone too quickly to be sure.

"You never did ask why I had to leave last night."

I blinked a few times, confused at the change in topic, before moving a finger to hesitantly trace under one of his eyes. The shadows that had begun to gather over the last few days were gone, his skin slightly less pale. "You were thirsty." The words were barely a whisper, and I did my best not to think about the connotations. I didn't understand why he was bringing that up now, what bearing it had on the subject at hand.

"That was…incidental." His hand captured mine, bringing it down and away from his face. "Some jobs are better left to…professionals…and creating identities is one of them. Anybody can make a driver's license, there's not much to it. But to create an entire identity from scratch—birth certificate, family history, school and medical records—well, that's a whole different story. It takes time, and a certain skill set, as well as the right connections. It's one of those things that are just easier to pay for than to try and do yourself."

The pieces clicked together, and with them the realization that I had just been played.

"And how long does this whole process take?"

"Passports are the most difficult, they usually require at least a week. But since you don't need one of those to go through Canada…four days." That smirk that I both loved and hated was in full force now, and he released my hand to reach up and tap my nose with one fingertip. "One of which belongs to you, as requested, for being such a good girl."

"And just who gets the other three?" I stepped back, folding my arms across my chest as I tried my hardest to look upset. It was a difficult undertaking, since the only emotion I could actually feel at the moment was joy. Pure and simple elation at the fact that I would have four whole, uninterrupted days to enjoy him. And I doubted that I fooled him for even a moment.

"I do." With a quick movement, his hand reached toward me once more, gripping my chin and pulling my face up until it was almost touching his. "And I'm claiming mine now." His mouth was firm against mine, and I gave in to the pressure of his tongue for just a second or two before pulling away. Taking advantage of his momentary surprise, I quickly stepped around him and into the still open doorway. "You'll have to catch me, first!" And then I was running, unable to hold back a giggle at the look of shock I had glimpsed on his face just before I turned to flee.

A shock that was short-lived, apparently. He caught me before I even reached the tree line, his laughter joining mine as we both tumbled to the ground.

One Week Later.

Burning. Searing. Agonizing.

This time there were words. But in some ways, that only made it worse.

I had burned before, and logically I knew that this was nothing compared to the pain I had already endured. But this time I had a choice. I could end it in minutes, seconds even. With only a few short movements, I could have that soothing nectar running down my throat, dousing the inferno that blazed within. I could ease my own suffering this time, instead of merely waiting for a relief that may never come.

It was like the difference between being tied to a stake as I burned, and gripping the stake to hold myself in the fire.

Most of the time, I had just enough strength to sit there unmoving while I was charred alive. Sometimes, my conviction waned, and I needed Edward's help to hold me back. Somehow, he always knew when it was about to become too much, when the monster in my head and the devil tearing my throat into bleeding shreds were enough to overcome rational thought and reason. When any last vestiges of humanity I possessed were overruled by the everlasting, eternal thirst.

Almost over. It's almost over.

Part of me—the tiny little remnant that was still capable of thinking—had assumed that it would get easier now that we were past any major population hubs. Anchorage was behind us, the Denali wilderness getting closer with every mile. I had survived border crossings, cities, traffic jams, gas stations…this should have been a cakewalk.

But it had been three days since I had fed, and the unceasing torture of being constantly surrounded by humans—by food—had taken its toll both physically and psychologically. I found myself slipping farther and farther away from myself, descending deeper into the haze of blood and want and need and thirst.

Suddenly my head was yanked to the side, the iron grip on my chin pulling my face around until I was pinned by Edward's angry glare.

"Don't even think about it." Hissed words from a snarling mouth. "Damn it, Isabella, stop breathing!" I hadn't been aware that I was. I knew that I wasn't supposed to breathe, that it only made everything worse, but at times I couldn't ignore the compulsion, the little voice that whispered in my ear that it could help, could cool the fire, could help ease the pain. It was a lying voice, full of false promises and unrealized hope, but sometimes it was just too tempting to ignore.

I stopped the traitorous breath in my throat, but it was already too late. I could feel myself slipping, the red haze settling over my eyes, the fire in my throat and stomach overtaking everything else.

"Damn it!" Dimly, I felt the car veer off to the side, heard the skidding of tires on pavement and ice as it slowed. So quickly that it was almost one fluid movement, Edward shut off the engine, threw the emergency brake handle, shoved his seat back as far as it would go, and pulled me across the console and into his lap.

I tried to push myself off of him, pull out of his embrace and away from the mouth that seized mine, but it was a weak effort that he easily ignored. I knew well by now that I would have to hurt him in order to escape, and that was something that I just could not bring myself to do, even through the bloodlust that gripped me. I was well and truly caught, and felt my struggles weakening even as the monster within raged at being foiled once again.

One hand was clamped like a vice around the back of my neck, the other pushing up the skirt I wore until it was gathered around my hips. I whimpered when it delved between my legs, his name escaping on a whine before he could seal my mouth shut once more.

There was no tenderness, no affection in the movements of his lips or hands. Everything was hard and fast, fingers moving with sure knowledge of just where to press, how deeply to push, only pausing long enough to bat my own hands away when they tried to scrabble at the fastening of his pants. When I came it was with a pained cry, the pleasure dampened by the knowledge that I was—and would remain—alone in it.

And still his fingers didn't stop, allowing me no time to collect myself before they were once again pushing me higher and higher, my face now buried in his neck as I panted and moaned.

Again and again he brought me over the edge, until finally he tilted my face up to meet his, eyes searching mine. Apparently satisfied with what he saw, he slowly withdrew his fingers, wiping them on my skirt as he pulled it back down over my legs. I pressed myself as close as I could, breathing deeply so there was nothing but his scent filling my nose, blocking out the faint hint of human that clung to everything around me. The thirst still burned through my throat, but the monster had once again been caged, even if the bars of its prison were weak and temporary. We were close—so close—and if I could just manage to keep it locked up for a little while longer…

All too soon he was pushing me away, settling me once more into my own seat before starting the car and pulling back out onto the highway. I huddled down, pressing my cheek hard against the cool leather as I shut my eyes against the shame that curdled in my stomach. I hated myself. I hated that my own body could be used as a weapon against me, one unstoppable desire used to keep another constrained. Hated that I was so out of control that it had to be done, that I was too weak to keep myself in check, and that all my beliefs and conviction not to take another life could be so easily overwhelmed. I hated Edward for taking me away from the relative peace of his house in the woods, for making any of this necessary in the first place.

I hated the coldness of his hands on me, the feeling clinical and impersonal. Hated that my body didn't care, that it reacted to his touch with the same compulsive need, despite the emptiness I felt inside.

I hated the silvery pattern of scars hidden under the blue cloth of his shirt, a permanent record of my weakness. Even in this self-imposed darkness I could see them, clearly traced on the insides of my eyelids, silently accusing. Could remember with perfect clarity the feeling of hard flesh giving and tearing under my teeth, the hideous, grating screech sounding in my ears, vibrating through my body, breaking through. Immediately replaced by a strangled cry of horror as I realized what I had done.

Even now, days and miles later, I couldn't hold back, another useless apology erupting before I could stop it.

"I'm sorry." Barely more than a whisper, accompanied by the soft touch of my hand tracing across the evidence of my disgrace. Even blind, I knew the precise location of each and every mark; I could feel them burning my fingertips through the cloth, even though rationally I knew that was impossible.

"Don't talk." His hand reached up to pull mine away; bring it back down to the seat between us. But instead of letting go, I felt fingers twine through my own, squeezing gently.

We finished the driving section of our journey like that; he cold and vigilant, I concentrating solely on the uncomfortable feeling of sensory deprivation as I did my best to block out the rest. But for all the distance that separated us, our hands stayed where they were, linked together in the space between.

*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*

Caribou was marginally more palatable than deer, but only just. By the time I raised my head from the third lifeless body, the sharp edge of my thirst had been dulled to the point where I felt able to pause while I contemplated whether or not I should take another. My stomach sloshed when I stood, and as I bent over to brush the snow off my knees I grimaced at the torn and blood streaked material that clung to my legs. I had yet to master the art of dining gracefully, and even though I wasn't head-to-toe blood afterwards any longer, I still managed to ruin whatever I wore each and every time.

"Ugh. Do you think we can find a stream or something before going back to pick up our stuff?" I wiped an arm over my cheek, wrinkling my nose at the realization that I was doing little more than smearing the mess around. "I really don't think I would make a good impress—"

My voice broke off as I finally turned and looked up at where I knew Edward stood watching me. There was no evidence of the cold detachment of the last few days in the eyes that marked my every move. Instead there was a heat that I hadn't seen since before we left Washington, a coiled tension in the stillness of his limbs.

"Are you finished?"

Not trusting my voice, I slowly nodded my head.

Everything was fast. Him coming to me. Clothing falling away. Hands grabbing, pulling me down. Over me; around me; inside me.

Then it slowed, dragged out on a long breath, eyelids falling and hard lines easing.

For long moments everything was still, the silence broken only by slow and steady breaths. Then those brilliant eyes were open once more, flitting over my face as he seemed to take in every feature, each line and curve and shadow, as if trying to commit them to memory.

Just a light puff of air, soft and quiet. "Edward." I didn't know if it was a question or a statement, but his fingertips brushed across the plump of my lips, silencing me with a touch before they smoothed up my cheek, brushed a strand of hair away from my forehead, slid down to my jaw. Then lower.

Slowly, slowly, slowly he began to move, weight braced on one hand as the other mapped every bit of skin he could reach; eyes following, dark with concentration. As if it was the first time, and everything was new and unexplored. As if he hadn't seen, touched, tasted each and every inch dozens, scores, hundreds of times before.

I watched him watching me, tried to envision what he was seeing—wondering about the picture that met his eyes as they wandered and roamed. Imagined bright streaks and smears of red marring pale skin, set off against the even whiter backdrop of snow. Dark strands of hair blowing in the brisk wind that whistled and shrieked. Lips and eyes and body open to him, for him. Wanting to give, after hours and days and forever of only being allowed to take. Wanting so badly to give him anything, everything.

He wouldn't be hurried, my soft whimpers met with light brushes of his lips across mine, shushing me silently. Elbows now digging into the icy ground alongside my shoulders, hands gentle and easy as they pushed clumps of hair away from my face, stroked over temples, across cheekbones. Eyes steady and intense as they took in everything. Watched me gasp, and tremble, and fall apart, before finally drifting shut.

I didn't ask, and he didn't tell. We gathered up the scattered pieces of clothing in silence before heading back to the car to collect the rest of our belongings. Even when he brought me to a sweeping expanse of ridged ice, showed me how to break through to the rushing water beneath, words were few and meaningless.

But when I reached out my hand, his was always there to grasp it, fingers slipping easily between mine and holding firm.

I first smelled them only an hour or two later, just a faint trace lingering along a narrow path. As we continued on the scents began to come with greater frequency, growing fresher, stronger. By the time we broke out of the trees I had counted 9 separate scents, and trepidation almost had me turning around and running the other direction as quickly as my legs would carry me.

As if sensing my sudden urge to flee, Edward reached back for my hand, holding it firmly in his grasp as he halted just a few feet away from the cover of the forest, eyes firmly locked on a small group of houses that sat along a narrow road a few hundred yards away. He pulled me forward several more paces before once again halting, head cocked to one side as confusion crossed his face. Looking from him to the houses that seemed the focus of his attention, I tried to figure out what was wrong. I could hear movement, the soft sound of voices, and then the sudden onset of absolute silence when Edward took two more steps, making more noise than necessary.

Barely more than half a second later the sound of a door opening broke through the stillness, then two figures appeared around the corner of one of the houses in the center of the row. The one in front was small both in build and stature, all slender curves and short spiky hair, and seemed to almost float above the ground rather than walking on top of it. She halted in her tracks at the back corner of the house; shock plainly stamped across her delicate features.

"Edward?"

The single word carried on the air, and I could hear a slight commotion coming from within at least one of the other houses—gasps and exclamations of surprise, followed by whispers that I couldn't make out.

"Alice?"

My eyes jerked back to Edward, taken aback by the uncertainty evident in his voice. His expression was something I had never seen, some combination of surprise, dismay, and confusion. Instinctively I took a quick step toward him, closing the distance until I was pressed against his side. The movement attracted the attention of the blonde male that had been standing behind the girl—Alice—and his eyes narrowed as he took a single step forward so that he was next to her.

Edward's gaze flickered to him for an instant, and in a quick movement he pushed me all the way behind him before once more turning his attention to Alice, whose expression had morphed into a fearsome scowl.

"What the hell are you doing here?"


Edited to add: I realize that you now need a passport to travel between Canada and the US, but that requirement didn't come until a couple years after the events of Twilight. In 2005 a valid State Driver's License was enough to get you through the border crossings.