Daedalus in Exile

Chapter 10

~*~

My hands hit the rough stack of wood in the corner of the barn. I had a moment of internal celebration at my find. I knew there was a pile of wood back here, but never really needed it before.

I was going to build a fire. From my perspective, it was a fairly blatant attempt to lure her out of her room and back to the common area. Hopefully, from hers, it would just be seen as a necessity and an attempt to be comforting.

Again, I was worried about her comfort and, increasingly, I was worried about her thoughts on being here. Her behavior the day before was unnerving. She'd been somewhat distant and cold. She clearly wasn't comfortable. Then this morning the sun rose bright and high even though the temperature was below freezing—colder than it had been in weeks. The snow and ice wouldn't melt today, but the storm seemed to have passed, which meant my time with Isabella on these terms was drawing to an end.

I began stacking a pile of logs at my feet and determined it would be enough for now. I wondered if she was awake yet and what she was doing. I hadn't seen Isabella since the day before when she took her book upstairs and closed herself behind the bedroom door. The only noises in the house came from her room that night. Sometimes it was slight shifts in her bed, other times it was nonsensical ramblings in her sleep and more than once she would teeter down the hallway to the bathroom. On those occasions, I would stop what I was doing and lean my ear to my the door, absorbing all her movements as she moved by my room. I listened as her fingers clenched the door knob, the soft padding of her feet on the floor.

At night, I had taken to retiring to my room, for appearances. Trying to explain my nighttime habits would be difficult so I carried my books and thoughts to the bedroom instead. I also had to remember other human activities like changing my clothes or rumpling my bed and showering consistently. This morning, in fact, I'd made noises in the kitchen, banging intentionally around the sink pretending to prepare food for myself as well as her. I had no idea why I was pushing these motions but they seemed appropriate.

I picked up the towering stack of firewood and made my way back across the yard. Once on the porch I dropped the stack by the backdoor, only selecting a couple to take inside. Balancing the pile in one hand, I quickly opened the door and was accosted by the overpowering scent of Isabella.

Zip…

My eyes widened when I saw her and my feet froze in the spot. It was as though time warped and confusion took hold of my senses. I smelled Isabella. I saw Isabella, but her body was positioned like that cashier from long ago. She was leaning over the counter--her long, tangled, mahogany hair, draping over her face. In her fingers, she held a knife and was cutting through the top of a package. It didn't matter that she was opening food I had purchased for her or that I'd pressed though these urges and was better…I knew I was better! Because in that instant it all paused and I was transported back to the moment I lost my will.

She must have heard my entrance and looked up pleasantly, but her eyes tensed and narrowed as she took in my demeanor.

"Edward?" she asked nervously.

She was nervous. She instantly became heated—her body emitting sweat and her heart escalating with each beat.

"I…" the words stuck in my throat—the same throat that was filling with venom. My fingers clutched the firewood and as we stared at one another with dual eyes of fear, I flinched, turning the wood into a pile of dust that rushed to my feet.

A gasp flew from her mouth and her fingers moved as though to suppress it inside, but it was too late.

She saw the bloodlust on my face.

She witnessed the power of my hands.

She experienced the weakness that overrode my sensible emotions. My façade was broken and I had a choice; satisfy my lust or leave.

I took a step forward, crashing my palms to the counter, preparing to lunge forward and end this farce immediately. But instead I pushed away, a loud crack from the wooden surface as my fingers made contact and I rushed out the back door into the blinding sunlight.

~*~

I ran.

For hours and hours, I ran.

Past the trees and bushes--over the hills and valleys of the Appalachian Range. My pants became drenched and soaked from the heavy drifts of snow. My shoes were wet and chafing, rubbing against my heels. It didn't hurt. Nothing physical ever did. The only pain felt was the aching desire to sink my teeth into soft, pliable flesh.

The sun still shone bright in the sky, forcing my body to cast prisms of light across the white snow. My mind was raging. On Isabella. I thought about how I wanted to grab her, drain her, but I felt horror at the idea of her body being lifeless…of being…no more. No more. I thought about how she looked sad carrying the book up stairs, how she twisted the door knob to her room, and how I was sure she was locking it—keeping me out.

Isabella enraptured me. She was my treasure. Her blood and her flesh, her darkened mind, everything and now I had ruined it….at the very least, she would be terrified of me. At the worst, she would despise me, closing me off from—

Sniff.

A blast of warmth and fragrance hit my nose. Sawdust and sweat. Wool mixed with flannel. My legs never stopped, they only shifted in the direction of the scent. I inhaled—over and over—until I darted behind a felled tree, ducking low to escape notice.

Prey.

My eyes snapped to the right, fifteen feet away was a hiker, braving the snow and the drifts and the freezing cold air. I'd wandered dangerously close to the trail head on purpose and was rewarded for my efforts. He was tall and thick. Not as big as Emmett but large for a human. There was a cap over his head and he was bundled tightly in winter clothing. His face was red from the hike, a bead of sweat trickling down his cheek. He didn't exactly smell delicious, but for a starving animal, he would do. He could push the desire to kill Isabella away--he could make it all better.

I crouched like a panther, waiting for the moment I wanted and then I pounced. My body took flight, covering the span of space easily. I landed on his back, and he emitted a surprised grunt and cursed, his body splayed but immediately tensed and resistant.

He was a fighter. Excellent.

I turned him around, flipping him on his back. I wanted to see the fear. I wanted him to see the animal that was going to take him out. Rainbows of light glittered off my body, showering him in color, in his mind he thought perhaps I was an angel, although he couldn't reconcile the terror he felt with the beauty in front of him.

He fought with his arms and his legs, even his head as he struggled uselessly on the ground. I growled in warning, showing him who was in control and almost laughed as he tried to figure out what and who I was.

"Don't," he gasped, as my knee sunk into his chest, and he struggled against my weight. One solid press and I would crush his internal organs out the other side. But it wasn't carnage I wanted, it was the liquid gold that ran through his veins. I cursed when I couldn't reach his flesh easily as he was covered head to toe in thick clothing.

"Stop," he argued, but I didn't respond. I didn't have to. I was the powerful one--he was mine for the taking. I released the tension and what I'd been holding back for days. My fingers grasped his hand, the one batting against my side in retaliation and I ripped off the black leather gloves encasing his fingers.

His mind raced, What the fuck is this? Who is this? Is it a demon? He looks like an angel, glorious and beautiful, unearthly--but where the hell did he come from? Certainly not Heaven…but, Hell? Why is he grabbing my hands, what are his fingers doing…

He droned on and on…unable to grasp the moment at hand. Finally, I steadied him and leaned in close, "I'm going to kill you. That's what I'm doing."

It was all I could give him. The truth and, in turn, I watched as the realization colored his expression. "Don't…please…" he whispered, mostly because my hand was wrapped around his throat and it was difficult to breathe.

I pulled his wrist to my mouth, tearing the fabric off his coat for better access. Venom dripped eagerly, ready to numb and assault. The fervor rose in my body, the want and need and desire for blood and sustenance, overpowering everything else. I licked his skin, tasting the flavor, feeling his pulse under my tongue. His mind wouldn't stop and his fear forced the images into my brain, a woman, a house, a child, a car, a man…image after image ticked off, one by one, like a slide show, kid, woman, house, kid, woman, car, kid, woman, desk, kid, woman, house, kid, woman, woman…

He was stuck on repeat, with the subject slowing becoming the same—all about the woman…laughing and smiling, crying, walking or talking…straddling him, whispering in his ear….

I tried to push him out but the images clung, I wasn't an empath, I received thoughts devoid of emotion, but this was too strong. His apparent love for her was too strong and for some reason it caused me to pause.

"You love her?" I mused, wondering if this is what love looked like.

"What?" he whispered, shock and confusion filling his eyes.

I rolled my eyes at his slowness. Keep up! "Her, the one you think of. With the blonde hair and green eyes….you love her?"

He nodded his eyes becoming oddly watery. "Yes. She's my life."

I tilted my head in question. "You possess her?"

He almost smiled, but not quite, his eye wary and focused on my mouth and sharp teeth. "No," he replied, "She possesses me."

I stared at him. The woods were silent other than the quiet drops of leaves and creaks of trees. I had him pushed back into the snow and he was shaking as much from the cold as from fear.

"I'm hungry," I declared obtusely, "It's either you or her."

His eyes widened with a flash of anger and bold images of his woman appeared. "No," I muttered, "Not her. Her. My her."

He calmed but only a bit, his heart thundering through my limbs. The man studied me, and with a quivering voice, said, "Take me then. I'd rather it be me than anyone else."

I looked at him with disbelief. He was willing to sacrifice for a woman he didn't know. I wasn't willing to sacrifice for anyone. No one--ever.

Confused and disturbed at this man's effortless decision, I narrowed my eyes and pulled his wrist to my lips. I dragged a sharpened nail down his white skin and a line of red appeared to which I ran my tongue over the sweet, coppery juice. The man gasped and yelped in pain but I took my nail again and widened the cut, forcing it to gape and flow. Before ducking my head, I looked him in the eye, using my powers to persuade.

"This doesn't hurt." I voiced.

He agreed while wincing, "No, it doesn't"

"When I finish, leave, go home and forget."

He nodded and his eyes were glued to mine, fear turning into a hazy compliance. He wasn't focused on my mouth, which had latched to the oozing flesh and had begun sucking, pulling the blood from his body and nourishing my own. No he was thinking of her, and if he would ever see her again. He thought of her like a prayer, making wishes on their past and desiring a future. I, in turn, drank, breaking the sobriety of the last two years on one drastic moment. The warm, delicious taste flowing down my throat proved it was worth it.

~*~

"Are you going to hurt me?"

Her words and rumbling heart cut through my silence.

"No," I possibly lied. I no longer knew. Probably.

I was in my bedroom, changing my wet and dirtied clothes. I was about to burst out of my skin from the fresh blood and warmth running through my body. It was exhilarating! Isabella, on the other hand, was in the hallway with her her arms wrapped defensively around her waist. Distrust and tension filled the air, although she was brave enough to approach me as soon as I entered the room to discard the evidence of my hunt.

"Who are you?" she asked, wary and suspicious.

Had she forgotten? Was this part of the memory loss? The blood was making me giddy and unsure.

"I'm Edward. I found you in the woods and brought you here to safety," I said, with my back to her now, my hands bunching the bloodied shirt into a ball and shoving it into the back of my closet. I kept my eyes away from hers—mine were sure to be tinged in red, betraying my sins.

I peeked at her, keeping my eyes down, and saw she had me fixed with a glare."Tell me more. Your full name? Where are you from? Where did you go to school? What were you doing out in the woods when you found me?"

Her voice was demanding, falsely strong. She was terrified. I could smell it and feel it vibrating off her body. My mind scrambled around her questions, I had to make her trust me. I couldn't let her want to leave. I needed her to want to stay.

I pushed past her and entered the bathroom, changing my wet, mud splattered pants and socks. I rummaged through the medicine cabinet until my hands fell upon the small black case I had stored there and found the stash of gold tinted contacts buried deep inside. It was a relic from my past, used to fool humans and my family if necessary. Once inserted, I stared at my reflection in the mirror for a moment.

My hair was wild and I pawed at it trying to tame the untamable. My eyes were orangish now, transitioning from yellow to red and I leaned in to place the colored contacts over my pupil. Sighing deeply, I took a finger and wiped away an incriminating smudge of deep red blood that nestled in the crevice of my mouth. Satisfied that I looked remotely human and not like a feral beast, I emerged from the room.

Isabella was waiting in the same spot, an expectant look on her face. She looked almost as unruly as myself. Her hair in tufts and her clothes baggy and mismatched. Her skin was clear and smooth and for a moment I longed to touch it. Pausing before her, I allowed her absorb my cleanliness and answered her, "My full name is Edward Cullen."

I cursed myself for using Cullen and not Masen but it was too late. "I'm from Chicago but have lived in many places around the country—my family moved a lot. I went to Dartmouth and Bowman Gray Medical School, in Winston Salem." Her heart steadied with each question but her fear…it was still pungent, the aroma seeping heavily into the air.

For once, I didn't want the fear. I wanted approval.

"I was hiking in the woods…hunting, actually," I confessed. The memories of that day and my intention combined with the fresh blood filling my veins pumping wildly in my body.

Bella became distracted, apparently thinking over my words, and stared intently at the wood paneled wall. I waited impatiently for her to respond. I had no idea what she was thinking or focused on and I felt my temper rise so I took the opportunity to leave the room. I was overwhelmed by an emotion I hadn't felt in a long time.

Shame.

She followed me down the stairs, trying to keep up with my longer legs and once we hit the first floor her eyes moved toward the kitchen, landing on the destruction. My destruction.

Her eyes snapped to mine. "How did you do that?" she asked, pointing to the pile of demolished wood on the floor.

"I…" I almost crushed your skull. Drank you dry. Feasted on your flesh. My words stuttered, catching on the truth, "I had an anxiety attack, and the wood—it was old and brittle—I apologize for scaring you."

She was skeptical, that much was certain, but it was all I had to offer that wasn't horrifying. "Anxiety attack?"

I nodded… was it really far from the truth? Not much. "I promise not to do it again—to control it. I'll be on my best behavior."

Bella shook her head and I raised an eyebrow in question, wondering what she was mentally refuting. Was it me and my lies? Was it her and her questions?

She began laughing quietly, a warm blush rising up her skin, "God, I thought you had super strength or something…" her hand rubbed against her temple, which oddly wasn't the location of her injury, "I think I'm losing it."

I smiled back and allowed a chuckle at her expense. She was losing it. "It's okay," I assured moving to the arm chair and sitting down. "You've had a rough week. Still having headaches?"

Her eyes flicked to the couch and I was ecstatic to see her drop her body into the cushion and grab the quilt from the back. She was making herself comfortable.

"I'm sorry I was so accusing," she apologized. "Really, I think I may be losing my mind. Is that a symptom of head trauma?"

She apologized.

I apologize, too, Isabella, for running out of here and drinking from an innocent and not feeling very guilty about it. I don't apologize for having the strength to spare you and for sparing his life. That is a first for me.

I didn't say these thoughts aloud instead reassuring, "Not your fault and no, but it's not surprising you're confused." I waved off her words with my hands. And it wasn't her fault…it was the cruel hand her life dealt her when our paths crossed.

I watched her yawn, but wasn't ready for her to leave so I hopped from my seat and, as slowly as I possibly could, I darted up the stairs to her room, returning with her book, but not before noting the name and author with interest.

"Would you like this?" I asked, offering her the hardbound book. Her eyes were closed, but I could tell from her breathing she was still awake.

Isabella slowly opened her eyes and offered me an appreciative grin. "Oh, thank you, it is a little early for bed, I guess."

I found a book of my own and we sat, quietly reading, pretending this scene was normal, that everything was as it should be. It was as though she was here by choice, and I wasn't holding her against her will. As though my body wasn't humming from fresh blood and her mere presence. My eyes didn't comprehend the words in front of me--it was unnecessary as I had read them all before. I thought about the man earlier and his comment on possession. That his woman possessed him and not the other way around. I thought of the images he fed to me and realized this could be true. Even in his thoughts he was mesmerized—almost worshiping her. That man didn't want to harm his woman and his final thoughts were of her. All he wanted in return was for her to love him in back.

"Edward?" She asked, breaking my concentration, and speaking as though there was anyone else in the room.

"Yes?"

"Earlier, when we were talking, I think maybe I had a memory." Isabella said this hesitantly, as though speaking the words aloud would make it disappear.

This caught my attention for sure and I almost whispered, "Tell me."

Isabella began spreading her fingers out over the quilt, tracing the pattern of the squares. "Your last name, Cullen? It seems familiar."

"It's a common name," I replied, keeping the squeak out of my voice.

"Yes, but…" she let the words hang and I hung right there with her. "It feels…familiar. It isn't just the word it's the feeling I get behind the word…it's comforting."

I watched her finger the quilt and offered nothing in return. What could I say? Nothing that wouldn't be a lie.

She looked up and caught my eye, a glimmer of hope shining deep inside. "Do you think it means something or is it just me acclimating you into my life?"

I swallowed and measured my words, "I don't know, I guess time will tell."

She leaned back and hugged her book to her chest. She looked different. Just this little bit of information, a glimpse of memory was enough to change her. She was…happy? Content? Hopeful? One of those, though I wasn't sure which. I'd seen these expressions before but had never felt it myself, but now, seeing it on her I realized I had been missing something.

Contentment.

Isabella sighed and gave me a small smile, and I gave her one in return. The way her lips curved was enchanting. I noticed the crease in the middle of her forehead softened for the first time in days. She was beautiful. I thought about the man and his words…and the idea of possession. I wanted her blood, and to compromise her body and take what wasn't mine--to lock her away forever, did this mean she possessed me or I possessed her?

Confused, I looked at her smile once again, and wondered what it would be like to have a smile like that, unaffected, natural and perfect, smile just for myself.

**Note: okay, in Twilight Edward SUCKS the venom/blood from Bella's arm without infecting her with his own venom. This is canon. In the woods he makes a cut and sucks the blood out, drinking from him but not puncturing his body with his teeth or venom. It may be a stretch but i'm only using what Smeyer gave me.

thanks to angstgoddess003/lts29/revrag for all the help. i appreciate it so much.

thanks to twilusted for making me a gorgeous banner for DiE! I appreciate it so much!

*RL is kicking my ass this week. I do not think i will update next week. knowing me i will feel guilty and do it anyway but be prepared if i don't. workwise i always have some busy times and this is one of them. Plus, FINE, i won't lie...NM is distracting me heavily...i will try to keep focused.

*AG and I collaborated for a O/S for the When Love Was New contest. the title is Diving Headlong and its up on my profile. If you haven't go check it out.