A/N: Beta'd by SweeneyAnne, and pre-read by THEChickNorris & GemmaLisax. Thanks to everyone who has been reading & reviewing! B&B now has over 500 reviews and I am all happy dancing like crazy!
Also, thank you aerobee82 for looking over this and the last chapter when I had a...er...melt-down thingie over them. Flove you! :-) (Also, if you enjoy Edward/Bella fun involving antiques, airplanes, and pop culture, go read her fic Antiques Roadshow. And tell her that there needs to have MORE JASPER!)
Don't own Twilight.
Chapter 11 – Bitemarks & Bloodstains
I give her a week to get her shit in order. We have an agreement that there's not going to be any more trips made alone if they can be avoided, and though the threat is still distant, the risks I'm willing to take are few and far between. I'm already going to have to go hunt at least once, and there's not a chance she's coming with me for that; I've got a plan to make it quick and effective, and she's not going to like it. In the absence of some sort of baby-sitter she's pretty much glued to my side, not that I mind all that much.
She thinks we should call Emmett now; I think that he already fucked this up once, and I'm not giving him the chance to do it again. I want to bite her before the rest of them come rushing into town, and I don't want to deal with questions of control and worth. This is my deal, and I'm not going to let anyone take it away from me. We've got some time, there's not one single trace of vampires in the area, and Maria wants me to come to her. It's safe, for now, but I don't know how long that's going to last, and I don't want to waste any more time.
Bella's almost always anxious, no doubt the result of swelling curiosity over what she indirectly proposed. She has no way of knowing just how willing I am do help her complete this new agenda of hers, but I'm stuck in some sort of cyclical argument with myself over whether she's desperate or wanting; for some reason it matters. It's intensely irritating, and while I'm not a fan of dwelling, it's something that Bella seems to bring it out in me. It's just that that this feels like one of those things that deserves some thought, like it needs to be pondered for a bit before it can become viable; or maybe it's just that I want to savor this last bit of the chase.
Our flirtation is quickly reaching a fever-pitch. It's all the same as before; raised eyebrows and dirty jokes—except now she's matching me word for word, and it's sending the rest of me into overdrive. Bella, she's no longer a maybe, no longer a passing curiosity filled with lust. Now she's pretty much screaming 'come and get me.' It's a rather fun way to pass the days while I give both of us some time to think.
I would need to hunt first, and that adds a trip. Humans are tricky if you don't intend to kill them as well, and it's been a long time since I'd needed to find that balance. I don't think it'd be all that difficult, really. Touching her is easy, effortless; I'd needed no extra thought to the action any of the times I'd circled my fingers around her wrist or wrapped an arm around her. I think that maybe it's because I'm so aware of her already, but what she's asking, that's different, and precautions must be taken.
The avalanche begins with little touches; fingers on shoulders and light hip checks. Bella makes an incredibly transparent shift in her clothing to shorts and tight shirts that I know she bought recently on day one. She sits closer and let me hang an arm over her shoulder, and it's enjoyable, the closeness we share now, even if it is kind of turning me into a sap. She's trying to seduce me with teeth pressed to her bottom lip and little half-smiles curling in time with desire and certainty rolling through the air. I'm enjoying the production more than I should.
I let her prance around in her short shorts and tank tops for a couple of days, and the scenery is almost enjoyable enough that I consider drawing this out for a bit longer—but then, on the third day, she kisses me again.
It's just a little peck, hardly anything—or at least it would have been if I didn't kiss her right back when she starts pulling away. It becomes more of a lingering question, an experiment to see if maybe this feels alright—and it does. It's intense and hot and wanting to devour every inch of her. It's a wall crumbling, one of many floodgates opening. Part of me views it as permission, another sees it as another tick in the clock counting down. The urge to throw all these games out the window and just give her what she asked for, no matter the consequences, is staggering.
She rewrites her letters to her parents and to the few people she can count as friends with poor excuses for why she'll be losing contact with them for a while and 'I'm sorrys' that aren't going to be nearly satisfying enough. She'll keep it up, too, she'll rewrite them over and over again until they're either perfect or the last tick of the clock stills her pen; she doesn't want anyone to think she's dead and gone. For some reason she's always angry rather than sad when she writes them, and those few hours where she sits at the kitchen table or on the couch and forcefully scrawls her pen against dozens of sheets of paper are exactly the kind of ice water I need. I'm not sure who she's so mad at, but really, there are a lot of possibilities.
On the fifth day the fraction of her that's nervous and unsure starts to grow. It's only hours before she's storming around the house, completely soaked in rejection, and I think that maybe I bided my time for too long. She put herself out there, and apparently sporadic and semi-chaste kisses aren't enough to quell her insecurities. It's time to step up and let her know that I'm in not saying no.
"We'll talk about it," I promise, leaning down to whisper the words in her ear as she scribbles furiously across a wrinkled piece of paper at the kitchen table. Her pen stills and she refuses to move her head even an inch. "I have to hunt, and then we'll talk about it."
Bella lets out a relieved breath, and her emotions jump so rapidly from extreme to extreme that I can barely even keep track of what is more prevalent; the lust or the nerves.
"You sure about this?" I have to ask, I just have to.
"Don't you know?" she asks cheekily, a quiet little call-back to conversations had long ago.
"Do you?" I counter, playing along. Her response is immediate, and carefully thought out.
"I know that I want my heart to pound and my fingers to tremble, and it wouldn't be like that after. I think if that's something you're willing to give me I wouldn't have a problem with taking it.
"You told me to think about what I wanted out of my life before it ended, and what I want is to feel those things," Bella says calmly, and I believe her. "I thought we were talking about this later."
"We will," I agree, and I kiss her once, right behind her ear. She leans in a bit, and I let my lips linger before straightening my spine and readying myself to run hard and quick. I'm going to have back to back fastest hunts ever, and that remnant of heat on my lips is going to haunt me the whole way through. "For the record, if I had known it could get me here, I would have hit on you a lot more."
Bella laughs and blushes, and I circle outward from the house for two miles before sprinting north. She's serious about this, it's not just some wayward fantasy gone wrong, and as odd as it is, the fact that her logic is sound makes all the difference.
It's becoming increasingly more difficult to suppress that voice in my head that's perpetually appreciating her curves and softness. It's like I've suddenly been granted permission to actively think of all those ways she could bend and flex, and I already know that I'm not going to be able to deny her, not when I want it so much, too. All I can think about is those legs, that hair; that small smile she gets on her face when we talk that's different from all the rest. I'm absolutely consumed with the memory of her pressed tight against my side, the pulse of her warmth overflowing from her and over me.
It's not even thirty minutes later that I'm walking back in the door, messy and coiled.
Bella's still sitting at the kitchen table, and she shakes her head and shoos me off toward the bedroom I've been using when she catches sight of how incredibly dirty I've managed to get. She mutters some comment about hoping that she's not so gross when she's a vampire, and I let out a laugh a little louder than I'd intended.
"Shut up and shower!" Bella retorts.
It's not so bothersome this time, to do what she tells me to.
By the time I've finished Bella's made six laps pacing the living room and kitchen, and I let her sweat a little bit as I take my time drying off and dressing. I don't think the nervous jumping of her emotions could ever get tiring.
She doesn't notice when I enter the space between the kitchen and living room from the hallway, which is a first, and she almost jumps out of her skin when I ask, "So, tell me, what exactly is it about me that you like so much?"
"I would love so much to say that it has little to do with you," Bella snarks. "I really hate your gift sometimes."
"Is this your way of saying that you have a crush on me?" I tease, and that increasingly elusive blush of Bella's makes an appearance. "Don't be embarrassed, I've had my fair share of dirty thoughts about you."
We're standing across the room from each other, but unconscious steps keep bringing us closer and closer to meeting in the middle, and for some reason I feel like I've got to keep this conversation going for a little bit. I want to know exactly what her motives are, why me and why now, and just why in general.
"How long has this been on your mind?"
"I've been thinking about it for a while," she admits, expanding at the raise of my eyebrow. "Honestly? Since we were in that hotel room on the way here. It's been stuck in the back of my head ever since then."
"I have no idea how I missed it for so long." It's kind of got the potential to drive me insane.
"It wasn't without effort on my part," Bella brags.
"Impressive."
"Yeah," Bella grins, taking another step forward. "I was kind of proud of myself."
It's so easy, the give and take with this girl.
"I like that you tell me the truth," Bella says in answer to my question as she takes two steps forward and wraps her arms over my shoulders and around my neck. My hands settle on her hips and I don't think I could stop my thumbs from making their slow sweeps if I tried. She's like a goddamned magnet. I smirk, and she keeps talking. "I like that you listen to me, that even if you don't agree with me you hear me out—and I like that you make me feel wanted."
"I won't be his replacement, it's not going to be like it would be with him." I'm not trying to talk her out of it. She's set and determined—but she's got to know this one thing; that if she's angling for a what could have been, then she's asking the wrong man to fulfill it.
"I wouldn't want it to be," she says, maintaining her confidence.
"Look, it's not like it really has to be a big deal," Bella insists, tilting her head awkwardly to look me in the eye. She shifts her weight to stand a little taller, and warm breath ghosts over my neck. "I know what the stakes are, Jasper."
She's talking about a million things in one neatly compounded sentence; life and love, broken hearts and irreversible choices; death and eternity.
It's not long before we're an inch away and I'm treading water, deep in 'why the fuck not?' land; I've wanted her for months, and here she is, ready and willing.
"You sure you know what you're getting in to?" I lower my head toward hers a little more, and she takes a shaky breath before meeting my eyes with hers, and she lets her lips drift so close to mine that they may as well touch.
"Come on, Jasper. Don't make me die a virgin," Bella laughs, and from the sparkle in her eyes and the confidence that races through her I can tell that she knows she's won. Not that it took much convincing.
I bend a little closer and brush my lips against hers softly. Tentative strokes and movements, easing in, because I want to see how she reacts before I actually go for it, because it's not the first kiss we've shared, but it is the first one that promises more. She presses closer and rises to the tips of her toes. She tightens her arms around my neck and she kisses back, hard and so shy, out of sync with the lust, desire, and pure want that runs through her body.
I break away from her to whisper in her ear, "You can do better than this. Why are you holding back? Let go."
She stops breathing for ten seconds, and I can almost hear the gears whirring in her head as she lets surprise overtake her. When she comes back into the moment, it's completely different. There's a roaring fire in her rough fingers threading through my hair and her lips opening against mine. She's a maelstrom pulling me closer and closer, and I push her back four steps until her legs hit the goddamned kitchen table that has been the forefront in so many of my musings.
I let out the absolute most embarrassing groan when she pulls her hands from me, places them on either side of her, and hops up to perch on the edge of the surface. There might have been one atom in my entire body that was still wary, but I can almost feel it dissolve as I grip her thighs and finally get a taste of what the skin under her jaw tastes like.
She moans when my fingers make their way under her shirt, and I toy with her for a bit. I let my hands move up before trailing down, and there's so much heat in this moment. It's in her mouth against my neck and her legs around my hips and the lusty desire that's suddenly exploding into the kitchen. It's months of harmless flirtation and teasing, and I'm obviously not the only one who's been on edge over all those touches.
One tug at the bottom of her shirt has her raising her arms so I can slide the thin cotton up the length of her body and over her head—and that's when I see it. There's dozens of swirls connecting two black and grey shaded roses trailing around her side from the front of her hip to the bottom of her ribs with three words scripted out over and around them them. I'm so surprised that I have to remind myself that Bella is topless, and if I don't check her out then I'm going to lose my man-card, but the thing is that I already knew her tits had to be awesome, so really the all too quick ogle is just confirmation. I had no idea that she'd gotten another tattoo.
"Live. Laugh. Love." Bella squirms nervously as I read the words aloud, pulling back to examine the work more freely. It's on her right side, where the connect-the-dots monstrosity is; no wonder I'd always thought the wound smelled worse than it was but couldn't figure out why. "Why didn't you tell me about this one?"
"I don't know," Bella admits. "I kind of thought you would have figured out it was there anyway."
"All I knew was that you weren't telling the truth." I drift closer, still tracing over the lines. "Tell me about it."
"I saw the flowers on the shop wall," Bella says, a faint smile on her face. She's fond of this memory already. "A few frames down were the spirals, and I just...saw it in my head. The guy put them together for me and helped me decide how I wanted the words to look.
"I still can't believe you actually bought that it took so long because we couldn't figure out where to put the dots on the other one." Bella snickers a bit, and allows a genuine smile to cross her face.
"Like I said, I knew you weren't telling the truth about something. Just because I didn't push doesn't mean I wasn't wondering about it."
Bella glances down at the art with a smile, and leans forward to drum her fingers against my chest and kiss me once before whispering, "It makes me feel beautiful, and it reminds me of what's important in life."
"You are," I insist, feeling earnest in the declaration. She should know this, she shouldn't need some tattoo, no matter how amazingly done it is, to realize that she's gorgeous. "You're beautiful."
She pulls at my shirt, grumbling when it takes her a minute to pull it all the way off, and I'm struck by the realization that she's honestly happy right now. It's simmering below the surface of everything else, nearly overpowered by need and nerves and anticipation—but it's there. I'm not sure I've ever actually felt that from her.
It's intense, the trails of fire left by her fingertips as they trace all the bumps and crags made by teeth, and just when I think I may be completely lost to the feel of it she presses her mouth to mine and whispers, "I like you because you never, ever give up."
The words spur me into motion and cement a determination I wasn't positive I'd be able to get a handle on. This is about her, not me, and I'm oddly okay with that. Bella's letting me change her, and even though she doesn't realize it, she's letting me play out hundreds of fantasies that have haunted me for months. I'm getting a lot out of this deal, and all she wants in return is to be loved, once, before she dies—and she's going to get it.
I kiss her, hard as I can while being soft as I'm able, and it's kind of an amazing feat; this almost and too much, the just a little more...
I want everything. I want rough and crazed and to absolutely lose myself in her hands traveling down my stomach and my fingers fiddling with the straps of her bra—but I need to repress that side of myself, for tonight. I figure that if this is the floodgates opening, then I'll almost positively get another shot at it after she's changed, and then it can be about me, too.
Bella squeals and giggles when I grip the backs of her legs and lift her, and she laughs against my throat when I almost miss her room completely, but the humor vanishes when I slam the door behind us and pin her against it. I'm not happy that I have to let her down to get her pants off, but it's a small price to pay for the visual of Bella standing in front of me in nothing but her underwear. My imagination hadn't even come close to doing her justice. Her fingers fumble with the button on my jeans, and it takes her three tries to pop it open. She pushes them down far enough for me to kick them off, and she's so fucking nervous when she traces her fingers downward over my hipbone that it makes me feel a little bad for her.
I still her hands with mine, and again, I have no clue what it is about her that brings all these things like compassion and conscience out of me. "Hey..."
"This is just something that people get nervous about, Jasper," Bella insists before I can even think of what to say, and I know that she fully believes these words rolling off her tongue. She surprises the hell out of me when she glances up though, because her eyes are stuck between wide with something I think might be uncertainty and hooded with lust. "But you have to promise me something."
"What?"
"That this won't change things." Bella gulps, and I think that maybe I understand more than she's trying to let on.
"I can't promise you that," I tell her, trying to sound kind. I don't think it comes across as well as I'd hoped.
She tries to pull away, feeling rejected somehow, but I'm not having any of that nonsense until she understands what I mean. I pull her along as I take ten strides, and spin us around so her legs hit the mattress before she falls backward with a slight exhale of breath and I'm hot on her trail.
"This is going to change everything," I mutter, mostly to myself, and I wrap an arm behind her shoulders and shift her to lay fully on the bed.
"It doesn't have to," Bella argues back, just as quiet. Her fingers on one hand fumble with the elastic of the boxers that I'd put on just so she'd have an extra layer of clothing to deal with, and that's what does it. The little tug is the thing that pulls me fully in to the moment, and makes me realize that while we're talking about serious matters, Bella's squirming practically naked beneath me, and I'm actually going to have her, if I manage to keep my head enough to not fuck this up.
"It will," I insist, and we have a moment of staring into each other's eyes as we come to this understanding; things between us, they're going to be different after tonight. Even if we never, ever have another moment like this again, I'm certain that if even I know that I'm never going to get it out of my head, there's no way she'll be able to. It'll be etched into each of us, sure as those grey-shaded roses on her side.
"Then promise me you won't leave," she requests, and if I wasn't about to absolutely lose it if I don't get the rest of her clothes off I'd put this whole thing on hold, get dressed, and go mutilate Edward for making her feel like this is something she has to worry about.
"You are the only person in this world that I honestly like. Even when you're bat-shit nuts I like you." I sound bitter over it, but I don't care. "Why the fuck would I leave you?"
It seems to be the right answer.
There's something in the removal of the last layers that I've always enjoyed, and peeling Bella's underwear from her is no exception. The girl is gorgeous; soft and curved in all the right places, and she's less self-conscious than I expected as I sit back and look. I memorize each and every inch of her, and run my palms up her legs, her sides, and her arms before crawling back over her and letting my fingers dance back down her stomach to further explore, and I like this. It's amazing being here, between Bella's legs with her caught between wanting to look at me and squeezing her eyes shut and throwing her head backward.
She's still fiddling with the hem of my shorts, and I think I might combust when she cautiously slips a hand inside to run her fingers lower. Bella gains confidence with each of our movements, and it's not long before she's using her feet to try and help pull my boxers down and I'm settling between her legs, trying to muster up enough control to ensure that this is a good experience for her.
There's touches and tongues. Nerves and certainty. Lust and need. She's salty and sweet, and so very soft. She's thighs squeezing my hips and wandering hands, and these little secrets shared with Bella are kind of wondrous.
So much cascades in the small space between us that I'm not sure which strands are hers and which are mine. All I know is that the absolute second her heat starts to circle is arguably the best in my life. She gasps and tenses, and I kiss it all away before I keep going. It's like being pulled into the sun. It's the most beautiful torture that exists to go so slow, to tease out the single thrust into an entire minute, to feel Bella try so hard to keep hold of the pleasures stemming from kisses and wandering hands so that she doesn't focus on how uncomfortable this is for her right now—and I'm not a moron, I knew it would hurt, but there are certain upsides to being able to gift pleasure and pain to another with nothing more than a passing thought.
I let loose on the feel-good vibes running through me, and smile against her skin when she finally relaxes, and not a moment later she arches her back and flexes her hips. The nerves, though, I let her keep those; she'd said that they were important.
It takes so much effort to keep myself sane, to remind myself over and over that for me it's just sex, and it means nothing in the grand scheme of things. I don't have any desire to let her carry me out to sea, and I absolutely do not have the intense urge to run my fingers through the length of her hair while whispering filthy yet sentimental nothings in her ear. She doesn't make my heart catch fire.
I can't figure out when it was that I started lying to myself so much; it's all her fault. She's only doing this because it makes her feel like she's alive when she knows she's going to die, and I don't know why that's so low on my own list of reasons I'm participating. Her breath is hot and heavy in my ear, the moisture from her lungs sends shivers all down my neck, and I don't think it's ever been quite like this for me before. There's never been warmth, never been any hint of actual, honest to god passion in the air; I'm not even entirely sure I knew what passion meant until five minutes ago.
With one breath in I'm struggling to contain the desire to rip my teeth into her neck, to lick along the wound and kiss it closed—and if I could think about anything besides Bella wrapped all around me, her whole body pulsing in tandem with the throb of her heart, I would be disturbed by the intensity of the desire. I've never needed someone before, much less for forever.
Her lips find mine, and she groans as I press and tremble, and good God, this is so much more amazing than I ever could have imagined—and it is not just sex. This isn't the simple push and pull of hips; this is skin tingling and stuttered breaths and swallowing back words that I've never had any desire to say before. I think that maybe this is loving, and I don't know if I'm ever going to be able to stand being without it.
I wrench my eyes shut and bury my face in the crook of her neck and clench my teeth as hard as I can. I have to smell her, I have to feel the pounding of her chest flat against mine, and I can't contain any of the desires speeding through me any more. I'm out of the race, there's no denying it, so I muster up the intensely pleasurable and satisfying moment and loosen the hold I have on my gift—because Bella deserves to get off, too, and that was kind of the point of all of this.
She makes this noise; this throaty moan that hums through her lips breathing against my neck, and my lungs shudder and it's white hot heat pressing in for a few moments before simmering away in time with everything that's not Bella's skin, mouth, and racing heart.
I'm grateful for how long it takes her to catch her breath, because for some reason I'm trying to regain mine, too. Her skin is slick with sweat and her heart is pounding and her fingers still have the remnants of those very trembles she'd wanted so bad running through them—and I think that this could be a moment I might be able to look back on as perfect.
Bella turns her head, her nose brushes mine, and she smiles softly as she trails her hand through my hair. She's got the exact same satisfaction and jumble of emotions that all come together to make 'happy' running through her as I do, and it's this, more than anything else, that makes me think that whatever happened tonight didn't just happen to me.
She slowly floats down from her high, and I'd kind of expected her to run screaming the moment her brain caught up with her body—but instead she settles into contentment and runs her fingers once more through the hair at my nape and nudges my cheek with her nose.
"You're kind of smooshing me, Jasper," Bella giggles, "but I don't think I mind so much."
I shift to take some of my weight off her anyway, and she rolls onto her left side, carefully keeping the bed-sheets pinned to her chest. I don't really understand the point of that.
"You wanna know a secret?" Bella asks quietly, and I nod for her to continue. "I'd thought this would be more awkward. Weird, you know? I kind of thought that you'd be running out the door before you could even get your pants back on, that is, if I didn't kick you out first."
I laugh at her, I absolutely cannot stop myself. It seems we didn't give each other enough credit.
"Well, that is how it usually goes. What's this about?" I tug on the sheet just enough to expose the inked skin beneath it, and I let my fingertips trail over each of the swirls and sweeps as she tries to find an answer. I'm pretty surprised at how easy this feels, too, and I wonder if Bella taking some pages out of my book wasn't the best thing to happen to her. I'd thought she'd be more affected.
"It's silly, isn't it?" Bella asks, contradictorily drawing the sheets closer.
"Yeah," I agree idly, still trailing my fingers over the black contrasting against the white of her skin. It's perfect and sexy and beautiful, and it looks like it was meant to find a home on Bella. "I hope this one doesn't go away. The dots, I could do without, but this one...I really like this one."
"I can tell." She laughs, and loosens her death grip on the damn sheet by a fraction. She turns suddenly shy when she asks her next question. "Was that...was it okay?"
I roll my eyes at her and let my wandering hand drift to mattress so I can hover over her and whisper in her ear. "I don't think you could have been bad if you'd tried."
I don't know why she starts laughing, but one second she's feeling all warm and fuzzy and the next she's cackling while pushing me off to the side.
"I was trying to be reassuring."
"No, no, that was...very sweet," she says, pressing her face into her pillow a bit as her body shakes and the sheets loosen from around her.
"Then what is it?" It's absolutely horrifying to be met with laughter as pillow talk.
"Now you're going to be in twice as much trouble," she snickers, before continuing in a haughty voice full of mockery, "How dare you, young man. You changed her and slept with her?"
I have to admit, it is kind of funny when she puts it that way.
"Emmett's going to kill me." Or at least he'll probably try to.
"Why would Emmett care?" Bella laughs, looking mildly disgusted.
"Because you're his sister. People keep telling me that friends aren't supposed to have sex with each other's sisters."
"I love it when you say stuff like that."
"Like what?" I ask curiously, and a strong affection wafts through the air between us.
"It's just that...I don't know. Sometimes you say something that's completely common knowledge like you don't understand it at all. It's adorable."
I scowl at her. No one has ever called me adorable until I met her.
"Oh, don't get all pissy about it again," Bella groans. "It's good adorable. Manly adorable."
"Next thing I know you're going to be calling me cute." It's such a distasteful idea.
"I wouldn't dare," she mocks in a playfully serious tone. "You'd probably have a hissy fit if I called you anything other than handsome or sexy."
"You think I'm sexy?"
"I think that if I didn't, then my impending doom would be pretty low on my list of problems, don't you?"
I think that no matter what sort of crazy shit she manages to get on that list, mine is bigger.
"Will you do me a favor?" Bella asks quietly as she draws little circles on the sheets between us with her forefinger.
"Another one?" I ask, and she smiles a bit and nods. "Sure."
"Will you make sure they get sent?" Bella turns her head just enough to glance over at the two envelopes sitting on her dresser. They're so overstuffed that she made me figure out how much they weigh and calculate the postage earlier this morning; she still stuck four stamps on the front, just to be sure.
"Of course." She really didn't even have to ask, I'd planned on taking them with me when I have to go out again.
She slips out of bed and tugs a pair of shorts up her legs and a purple top over her head before bouncing back with a slight smile and a look on her face that's never been there before. She settles in against her pillow and yawns, before nodding her head and telling me, "I'm ready. Do it in the morning."
"Okay." There's not much else to say, and my mind is left racing as she drifts toward sleep too many inches away.
This isn't like the last time; there's no one here to stop me, and there's nothing to save her if I can't keep myself in control, though I have a feeling it won't be an issue. Still, there's something in this wager that makes me unwilling to risk it, and once her breaths even out I reluctantly climb out of her bed and dress. I have sins to commit before I kill her.
There are many choices as to where to find my insurance, but I already know exactly where I'm going to wind up. It's a much shorter run than it was a drive, which I'm thankful for; I'd like for this to be over quick. The building is somehow more decrepit than it was the first time I was here, with Bella, and inside the drunks sound rowdier, the music is even more terrible, and the heat coming off all those sweaty and disgusting bodies has left a slight sheen of fog over the windows. I don't know what's come over me, that I'm choosing this less than ideal situation, when I had the time to plot whatever I want. I have the opportunity to get it all out of my system, to let out the fifty years of repression and efforts to contain my baser desires. I could seek out the perfect candidate; I could live up to all those assumptions the Cullens ever made about me each and every single time I've slipped—but that's the thing, this isn't a slip, and this isn't about being fed.
This is about sacrifice and safety nets; this is me giving something up in exchange for the things that I want—and part of me knows that I'm kind of romanticizing it in my head, but I've still got my post-sex high and the smell of her skin all over. She would be so appalled to know that I'm doing this for her. It's twisted and strange, but remarkably apt. I don't want to be a murderer. I don't want to shudder and wilt, to give death rattles and die alongside my victims—but this is the cost. Bella has to die, and I've decided that I should be giving something up, too.
I close my eyes and take a deep breath, forcing myself to disconnect and loosen my hold on that predatory instinct that's so hard to squash. There's killing to be done.
The first man to come stumbling out of the bar feels pleasantly buzzed, and has a cab waiting for him, so I leave him be—but the second swaggers through the door with that sort of angry inebriation that is never any good, swinging car keys from his fingertips. I let him start the engine of his monstrous SUV and get a couple miles down the road before I make my move at a deserted intersection. He barely even slows down at the stop sign, and I take the moment to wrench his drivers side door open. It only takes two seconds to shove him into the passenger seat and pull off the road to the cover of trees. His neck snaps like a twig, but his fear and slurred pleas for mercy stick to me like a film long after he's empty and lifeless.
Five minutes later the car is on fire, and after shoving the heavy envelopes addressed to Bella's parents in the first mailbox I find I'm running back to Emmett's house feeling invigorated and very nearly justified. He was a good mark. It's not quite as damaging as I thought it would be, the kill, and I have no doubts in my mind that regret for ending a life tonight will be short lived. The intense spike of fear and pain he'd felt before his light faded had been fleeting; I wonder if maybe I should have drawn it out a bit.
I watch her for a couple of hours as she sleeps silently, and try to relish the delicious sense of anticipation that is finally going to pay off—but all I can think of is that warmth, that passion, that feeling of everything I'd never been sure of in my life swelling inside of me all at once. All I can think of is the moment when she'd groaned below me and tightened around me and let her breath pant in my ear.
I crawl back into her bed at daybreak, shedding my shirt and laying across her as I wait for consciousness to come. Her eyes flutter open and stare into mine as shock runs heavily through her, and she glances away as guilt runs deep. Twice now she's had to see me like this.
"Eternity, forever...there's always a price that must be paid," I murmur as I watch the emotions play out across her face while she comes to terms with the undeniable fact that I murdered someone to ensure I could do this. That price though, it's hanging over my head, too, because once this is done I get to see all that I've wondered about come to fruition, and I did so many questionable things to get here.
I kiss the corner of her mouth and breathe her scent in. She turns her head and bites her lip as her eyes stare deep into mine, and the barely perceptible nod comes in time with a surge of the resignation she's struggling like hell to keep. Second by second Bella's eyes turn to steel as she stares up at me, and I swear I almost feel one thrum of my heart against my ribs. My arms shake against the mattress, my breath stutters for one single second, and I lower my head to bite her before this insane feeling of affirmation ballooning in my gut gets any bigger.
She tastes exactly as she did on that first day; sweet, like honey.
It's not neat. It's not perfectly precise and clinical, like it probably should be. It's raw and need and hunger. My tongue against her flesh and her fingers trying to rip my hair out as my thumb presses against her neck to keep track of her pulse. It's blood spilling onto her bed-sheets and my teeth ripping through her skin. It's so very easy, when it's supposed to be impossibly difficult. It's every single bit as good as last night.
I know when it's done, and my mouth makes the motions to close the wound. I collapse in the sticky red laying next to her on her pillow and breathe deep, shaking with this uncontrollable urge to do something, anything—three days is so long. I absently wipe blood from my face and stare at the tips of my fingers covered in the sticky, delicious mess before licking them clean. There's nothing quite like it.
Bella's vibrating with that stubborn urge to try and bear the pain silently, and something wrenches inside me, because she won't be able to do it. The thinking and feeling has to stop, so I pull my phone out of my pocket and fire off a quick text to Emmett, then to Esme.
'It's done. Come when you can.'
The crescendo of burning builds all around the room. Her bathroom door is open, and I leave her to lay there as she tries to contain the fire and stare at myself in the mirror over the sink. I've got blood on my face and swimming through my eyes. I've got the vast majority of my scars laid bare for all the world to see, and this is going to change everything. Poorly plotted out plans and barely disguised desires should never have led here, but I'm still washing my face and putting my shirt back on just in time to hear the first scream.
It's a million events that were forced into existence. It's Bella deciding back in Forks that if she was going to drown she was going to take someone with her. It's me, standing dumbfounded at the side of her bed thinking things I shouldn't.
She's breathing heavy and screaming. We're in absolute agony, and I don't know why I'm not leaving this room. I don't know why I'm not wishing I'd thought to ask someone else to be here so I don't have to. I don't know why I wouldn't leave her anyway, though I've got a vague idea. I just sit silently against the bed, lean far enough back that I can feel the shift of the mattress every time Bella claws at it, and press my forehead into my knees as hard as I can—and I burn with her.
Maybe I'll wake up new, too.
A/N: Teasers if you want em!
