I can never, ever say thank you enough for all the wonderful reviews. I have the most amazing readers ever. :hug:
fixed a couple mistakes, it's all better now. because i was typing fast, and Carlisle definitely doesn't have blood. :headdesk, lol
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Carlisle
It was days before I could look at him, two weeks before I could even trust myself to talk to him. There was a nagging voice that reminded me constantly that I had to remain his friend, but the rage was too strong to listen to reason.
The morning afterward, she had let me tend her wounds, probably, I think, because she knew it made me feel like I was doing something. There had been a small measure of comfort in the act, but also incomparable anger. It almost frightened me now, how much I wanted to kill him.
At the thought my hands clenched around the desk and the pen in my right hand. Almost two months after, and though I could now face him and put on a good act, I was thinking of ways to kill him on a daily basis. And lately, I didn't feel like I was just humoring my subconscious. The plans were becoming more formed, too focused. I knew Edward had noticed, knew it by the hard glint I saw in his eyes whenever those thoughts crossed my mind, but he had said nothing and I was grateful. I didn't want to give in to this, but if I did…well, I didn't really want to talk about it. Not beforehand, at least. There was nothing he could say that he hadn't already said. He approved. If I killed Charles, the only opposition I would have would be myself.
And her, of course. Though she hated him, she didn't want me to do it. She didn't want that guilt on me, wanted my hands to stay clean. She could have never understood that my overwhelming guilt for what he was doing to her had put more weight on me than anything else ever could. I was sure I would never be able to shake it, even if I were to live for all eternity.
"He's going out."
At Edward's words I looked at the clock. 10. I would have been heading over soon, anyway…but why was he going out this late?
"I think you already know."
I snarled, disgusted. Yes, I did. A strange sort of relief followed on the heels of that thought and tense muscles in my shoulders loosened to something that was almost relaxed. At the last handful of parties we had attended, he had been keeping company with the widow Dallow. She had a bit of a reputation, but not enough that his socializing with her caught too much attention. But Edward could see his mind, and he had watched him closely, had seen him kissing her the night of the large party when Esme and I had danced, had seen in his mind that he planned to do far more. It was a good thing, really. If he began an affair with her in earnest, then perhaps he would leave Esme alone. Still, I didn't want to tell her, really. She would probably be as relieved as I was, but knowing her self esteem, she would also be hurt. And I could not bear for her to think less of herself than she already did, to imagine herself unworthy of desire. As greatly as I longed for her to escape his notice, the very thought that any could be better than her infuriated me as a basic principle, at the ideas it would plant in her head. He truly was the consummate fool.
I shoved back from the desk rather roughly, grinning a little sheepishly when the chair dug lines into the floor. I sighed, ran my fingers through my hair. "I've been rather rough on this place, haven't I?"
Edward smiled, shrugged. "Not so bad. Remarkably calm, I think. Are you coming back here tonight?"
As much as I loved spending time with both of them, we had done that the night before. Tonight was just ours. "No, not tonight. I'll see you in the morning."
"Alright then." He slid from his seat on the stairs, mirroring my motions toward the door. "Think I'll go hunting. Help you with your appointments tomorrow. None of them sound serious."
I nodded, pleased. "Thank you. I appreciate it." Really, more than the help he offered I just loved having him work beside me. It made me feel undeniable warmth to think that it made him happy, too. "9?"
"First is at 9:15."
"That's plenty of time, then." I gave him a last smile before darting out the door and down the street, quickly making my way up and in her window.
She was waiting for me, sitting up in bed with a book propped against her knees. He smile was so sweet, so beautiful that it seemed to defy all laws by not giving off actual light. "Esme." My first sight of her never ceased to produce this response, the wonder never dulled in the way I said her name. My Esme. She held out her hand to me, beckoning me forward but I did one better and took my place beside her in bed, wrapping my arms around her to pull her against my side, my lips pressing to her hair. "I missed you today."
She snuggled closer, turned a little to leave a feather soft kiss against my jaw. "And I missed you. How was work?"
"It went well. Had a little boy with a broken leg. He quite reminded me of you."
She looked at me with mock horror and hurt. "Carlisle!"
I chuckled, rubbed her arm. "I'm sorry, love, but you just looked so funny when I first got there. Your mother had been yelling and you were so angry, so determined that you had been right…" I shook my head, laughing harder at the memory. She had looked so outrageously furious, not the least bit ashamed.
She tugged away from me. "That's it, let me go."
And even if she was teasing, there was something in me that couldn't hold on to her, even if I should have. My arms loosened and I pulled back a little, a measure of joy fading.
She caught on quickly, her arms wrapping tight around my chest. "I didn't mean it, silly." But her voice was soft, a little pained. "Hold me?"
Gladly. I nuzzled against her hair, breathed her in. I should have been able to joke with her without taking it so seriously, really I should have. But the things I knew, these circumstances… There were some things I knew that had become ingrained. I would only ever touch her as long as I was certain she wanted my hands on her. Any slight doubt about it, and I would let her go. Still, I should know better. Even if I couldn't help it. "I'm sorry."
"Shh." Her small fingers intertwined with mine as she pulled my palm up to rest against her cheek, my fingers automatically curving to fit the face I knew better than any other. "You haven't really greeted me yet you know. That's what you should be apologizing for."
"Forgive me then." My voice dropped to a whisper as I tilted her head back, my breath ghosting across her lips. I closed the distance, my lips moving on hers slowly, tenderly. From there I trailed along her cheek, up to kiss her closed eyelids, feeling them flutter at the touch. "Hello." She laughed a little breathlessly, her hands clutching at my shirt. "Better?"
"Much better." She sighed in contentment, settled in against me. Her fingers stroked against my chest gently, almost absently. My head fell back, eyes closing as I basked in the pleasure of her touch, a low hum rising from my throat of its own accord. I felt her move, felt her lips against my neck. "I love that sound."
I could hear that in her voice, hear the desire there. I bit back a groan, forced the sudden spike in my own desire under control. "Do you?"
"Mmhm. Sounds like…" She trailed off, and after a moment her hand stilled and I forced my eyes to crack open, take in her soft blush. So endearing.
"Yes?" She wasn't about to get off that easy, not when she had made me so desperately curious. Anything that made her happy was a good thing, especially something so instinctive, so natural. It felt almost far too good to know she enjoyed anything of that nature about me. Far too good, because we couldn't take this very far. Or at least, that was what I had continued to tell myself.
She shrugged a little, still blushing. "Like…" Her voice dropped a little softer, whisper thin. "Like I can do something right." She blushed a little fiercer, her eyes still downcast, a soft nervous laugh on her lips. "I mean, I know that sounds silly, but I'm just afraid that-"
I stopped her, fingers pressed against her lips. I was trying so, so very desperately to stop cursing him in my head, because when I spoke to her it needed to reflect only what I felt for her. The disgust for the man that had made her so doubt her own abilities I would keep to myself, hold it in. A little more pent up anger really couldn't harm me, at this point. I cupped her chin, stroked my thumb across her lips. "Esme, look at me, love." She did so hesitantly, eyes still flickering down. "There is no doubt that you can do everything right."
"You don't-"
"I'm sure of it." I smiled, pulled her into me for a warm, deep kiss. Her lips parted easily under mine, and I gave everything over to the warmth of it, the incredible taste, the way her body felt pressed to mine. Her hands found my chest again, alternately stroking and clinging tight to my shirt. We parted to let her draw breath and her lips found my throat again, just where my pulse should have been. She sucked almost hesitantly at the skin there and I tangled my fingers in her hair, moaning softly. And she was worried that she couldn't do this right? My eyes were almost rolling back in my head, my control just barely keeping me from either holding her head there for a very long time or finding out how those lips would feel elsewhere…but that was a thought that I couldn't allow myself to have, as even the thought was enough to send an electric jolt through my veins. I sighed, brought her up for another kiss before I spoke, still close enough that my lips moved against hers. "I am absolutely sure of it. Don't worry about that."
I could feel her smile, her arms sliding around neck. "If you say so."
"I do." I pulled her fully into my lap, let her rest back against my chest as our breathing slowed. She felt so warm. I rested my chin on her shoulder, nuzzling against her. "So. What were you reading before I so rudely interrupted you?"
"Believe me, the interruption was wanted."
We laughed softly together, and I reached around her to pull the book into my hand. "All the same." I flipped it over on her lap, reading the cover. "Jane Eyre. That's a good one."
"I think so."
"Would you like to read a little more?"
"Only if you read." She shifted to make herself more comfortable, tugged the blankets up around her and slid down to lay her head better against my shoulder. "Chapter 22."
"Alright, love." I flipped the book open and read until she fell asleep, two pages into chapter 24. I moved carefully then, setting it on the nightstand and turning down the gas light without disturbing her, though I did shift our positions so that she lay down fully, still safe against me. She closed any small distance immediately, even in her sleep unwilling to allow it. "Ah, Esme…" At the sound of her name she almost seemed to wake, but her even breathing didn't change and the flicker of awareness I had thought I had seen on her face vanished. I kissed her temple lightly, took a moment to inhale her scent. Entrancing. "Sleep well, my love."
And she seemed to, her every expression one of happiness as I began to watch her dream.
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It was seven when she started to stir. It was different, for her, and my attention increased instantly about a hundred fold. We always stayed up late, and as a result she always slept in. There was nowhere she needed to be, and Charles had never become suspicious. I had never seen her wake before 9, unless she was interrupted. She came fully awake suddenly, then, drawing in a sharp breath. "Esme?"
Her eyes shut as quickly as they had opened. "Wait." She pulled away from me and stood up, losing her balance for a second before bolting out of the room and to the bathroom across the hall. As if I wasn't anxious enough already, the sound of her throwing up…
The nerves were too much to bear. To hell with it, I could be fast. No one would see me. I darted across the hall, shut the door behind me.
She was leaning weakly against the toilet, her arms thrown across it to steady herself. "That was stupid." Her voice was far too weak to be sufficiently scolding.
"No one saw me. How are you feeling? And I mean tell me everything." I knelt down beside her on the floor, torn between simply comforting her and examining her. I pressed my palm to her forehead, merging both desires. No fever.
"I'm fine, Carlisle, it's nothing. Just a little nauseous, happened yesterday too, after you left."
My fingers were wrapped around her wrist, checking her pulse, but the count in my head froze at her words. I should have been able to do 10 things at once, but one thought was very suddenly all I could think, and I could feel my veins run cold with it. I wasn't sure what look crossed my face, but I heard her gasp, felt her body tighten. I was counting back in my head then, focused. Just three days short of two months.
"Carlisle-"
"Wait. Be still. And quiet." I closed my eyes, focused all my effort on my sense of hearing. Her heartbeat was the warmest, strongest sound in all the world, and even now it took a moment to draw my focus away from it. I listened deeper, casting my thoughts around for the sound I knew I would never have noticed, would have written off as the heartbeat of a mouse or a rabbit or-
I hissed involuntarily, more shocked than angry. It was a there, a tiny heartbeat, miniscule but strong.
"Carlisle?" Her voice wavered and I was sorry I was frozen, sorry I wasn't better comfort. "Am…Am I…"
I took a deep breath, still unable to open my eyes. "Yes."
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This one's a little shorter, but ah…yeah I just had to end it there. And I know you're going to beat me with all kinds of strange objects. lol
To make up for it, I promise a longer chapter next time. : ) If you don't kill me that is. heh
