Jacob

Jacob paced the halls behind the gym, deliberately avoiding walking in step with the muffled throbbing of the bass. He still wasn't sure why he had come to the dance, without a date, without a costume. He had been inside the gym earlier, scanning the dancers, trying not to admit to himself that he was looking for a certain girl in the crowd. He had caught a glimpse of her dancing with Edward and laughing. At that he had gone out, to pace and be alone.

He rounded a corner and saw Laurent and James talking at the very end of the long hallway. Laurent passed something to James, and the two of them split off in opposite directions.

Jacob stared after them. He knew Laurent was one of Edward Cullen's best friends; the two were always together. He had seen them talking only a few minutes ago. After Edward had spoken at length to Laurent, he had nodded in acknowledgment and trotted off.

Could Laurent be connected with Volterra? He was obviously doing some sort of business with James, and James was a high-ranking member of the gang. If Laurent was Volterra, then surely Edward must be too.

Straight-A, squeaky-clean, student body president Edward Cullen was in Volterra.

Jacob's spirits suddenly lifted. All he had to do was prove it, and tell Bella about the connection. Surely she would see that Edward was no good for her. Chin high, he tiptoed down the hall, following in Laurent's wake.

Bella

The music throbbed in my skull, wild and wicked. It slammed all rational thought out of me and left me swinging in the darkness, twirling in Edward's hands. I was an indifferent dancer at best, but Edward was highly skilled at leading a partner and making me seem better than I really was. Even as I tottered on those stiletto heels, he was still able to twirl and carry me through the music. The song ended and I somehow found myself in a deep dip, one leg pointing in the air, gazing straight into his dark eyes, his strong arms keeping me from what I once would have thought was an inevitable, humiliating crash onto the floor.

I relaxed completely and allowed him to reel me into the next dance. The strobes spun around my head, flashing and outlining a press of bodies all around us, and nothing was certain in the dark world except Edward and his strength and confidence, his completely secure grasp as he poured my boneless body from one step to the next.

It was exhilarating. I felt overheated and excited and strangely graceful.

Like a totally different person.

I was a different person.

I was free of my mother. I was done with her.

I leaned forward and shouted in Edward's ear. "I'm thirsty." Laughing, I led the way to the punch table and scooped myself a brimming ladle of bright orange liquid.

"Not that one, Bella." Edward touched my arm. "You want the punch at the other table."

"Why?" I glanced at the cup I held.

"That one's spiked. Someone put vodka in it."

I frowned. "I know what spiked means." Tonight I wasn't naïve, rule-following Bella. "I want some anyway," I declared.

Edward looked shocked, then amused. "Very well," he said, pouring out half of my cup and replacing it with punch from the other bowl. "You don't want to have too much your first time."

"What? Why not?"

He slanted me a wicked grin. "I want your first experience breaking the rules to be pleasant, so you'll do it again." He handed me the cup with a flourish.

I raised it to him in salute and gulped it straight down. Dancing had made me thirsty, and I didn't taste anything odd about the punch.

He raised his eyebrows at me but said nothing.

"That felt good," I announced. I stuck my empty cup in Edward's hand and poked his chest. "I want more."

Amused now, he filled my cup from the other bowl. "I think that was enough."

I swayed in mock outrage. "What!" I slid my toy gun out of its thigh holster and pointed it at him. "Give me some more, now!"

Edward laughed but pushed the barrel of my gun aside. "It's not a good idea to get in the habit of pointing even a toy gun at anyone… unless you mean to shoot them."

"Hey." I tried to get around Edward to reach the punch bowl, but my shoes had become difficult to balance on. He caught me before I could tip completely over.

"What would Bonnie do?" I asked, struggling up out of his arms. "She would have another cup."

Edward's arms around me were velvet-covered iron. "She would do what Clyde told her to," he murmured in my ear.

I giggled and hung on his neck. "Aw, don't you want to get me drunk and have your way with me?"

"I don't need to get you drunk to have my way with you. Besides, I would want you to remember my way. Very, very clearly." He tugged me back to the dance floor.

The music shifted to another slow dance. Edward brushed his lips over my hair as he held me close, rocking to the music. His hands stroked up my back and tangled in my hair. "I love your hair," he murmured. "So thick, and long, and lush."

I rested my cheek against his chest. "Thank you. Hey, can we stay out all night?" I asked.

His chest vibrated as he chuckled. "I don't mind. I can't go home tonight, anyway."

"What? Why not?"

His fingers, resting on my bare back, tightened. "My—aunt told me not to come home tonight."

"What happened?" I knew he didn't get along with his aunt very well, but he was so close-mouthed about his family that I had no idea whether his parents were even alive.

I had once tried to draw information out of him by telling him about my own parents and what they had done. How Charlie had managed to shield me from it, only to leave when I was eleven. Edward had listened patiently, concern in his eyes, and had held me tightly in his arms. But he had not mentioned one word about his family, or about his home. I didn't even know where he lived.

He shook his head. "It doesn't matter."

"Of course it matters!" I declared, indignant for him. "And I have an extra couch," I said, greatly daring. "My mother will be at her retreat for another six months, so you can sleep at my place."

"Are you sure?"

I hugged him. "Of course. Of course you can stay with me. You can stay anytime." I buried my face in his shirt. The fabric was soft against my skin, and I could smell his scent on it. I knew my mother and Charlie would chastise me for letting a boy stay in my apartment overnight. But I was done listening to them.

He stroked my hair again and kissed my forehead. "Thank you," he whispered. "You don't know how much that means to me."

I took his head in my hands. "You don't even need to ask, Edward. I'd like my home to be yours." I stopped. Surely that was coming on too strong. That almost sounded like a declaration of… something serious. And it was far too early to be serious.

But his gaze was strange and warm. "Bella," he said softly. "I've been alone for a very long time. I haven't had a home for so long." He drew me in to his chest again. "Not since…" He broke off, and his voice changed. It became rougher than I had ever heard, broken, almost hesitant. For a moment, it seemed like he was no longer perfectly confident, cool, utterly in control as I had always known him to be.

"Bella, you make me feel things I haven't felt since I did have a home. I want to tell you something I have never told anyone else. About my family." He paused, and I made an encouraging noise. "When I was five—"

Before he could finish, the crowd of dancers parted and Jacob was shoved hard toward us. He fell against me and I lost my balance. In a flash, Edward grabbed me and stopped me from falling. He rounded on Jacob, his face hard.

"What are you doing, you bastard?" he hissed in a low, dangerous voice so completely different from his usual suave, calm tones that Jacob's jaw dropped. Edward's hands were balled into fists, something I'd never seen before. "You hurt Bella. I'm going to make you pay for that."

Jacob flexed his arms. "You don't have the right to talk about Bella that way. I'm the one who's known her all her life." They began to circle.

I fluttered around them, afraid for Edward. Jacob was a powerful fighter, and Edward was a bookish nerd who had never struck a blow in his life. But in his face, I saw something different than I'd ever seen before. His eyes flashed behind his glasses with what looked like a decade of constrained rage.

"I'm fine, you guys, please…" I reached out and took Edward's arm, my fingers slipping on his tense, corded muscles.

As I touched him, as though a light switch had been turned off, his face and body abruptly relaxed, his hands opening and falling to his sides. He was once more his gentle self.

"Of course, Bella." Nodding to Jacob, who was still crouched in a fighter's stance with fists at the ready, he lifted a hand, palm open, offering peace.

Jacob stepped back, his face still red. He hesitated for a long beat, glanced at me as if he were about to say something. Then he whirled away and disappeared into the crowd.

"Poor, angry boy," Edward said in a sympathetic tone, shaking his head. He gathered me in his arms again, physically facing me away from the direction where Jacob had vanished into the press of dancing students.

"You were saying?" I prompted, hoping to get him back into the confessional mood.

He shrugged. "Nothing important, really. Why don't we just enjoy the music for a while?" He leaned down and took hold of two fistfuls of my hair, drew me close, and crushed his mouth against mine. His lips were warm and demanding on mine, my heart pounding against his, even as his tongue swept past my lips and moved fast and deep into me. My fingers splayed over his back, my eyes closed, and all I could hear was the music.