A/N: I'm updating early again because this weekend is another right off for me. Ugh, thank god for the school hols - that's all I can say!
Anywho, and now a few words from my beta:
Hiya! This is Kimmie45 again. I'm giving a heads up on this chapter. Thankfully, it's not angsty, still focusing on Edward and Bella's honeymoon. I have to say though, this chapter truly earns its supernatural genre. Lyndal likes to insert those wtf? reactions. Thanks again for reading! Enjoy

The Fallen
Chapter 36

By dawn the following morning, Bella and I have slept no more than an hour. We were physically intimate another two times during the night, and while I could continue immersing myself in that gorgeous body of hers for countless more times, Bella was exhausted.

I've exhausted her, and while she won't openly admit it, I'd also hurt her. By the third round, I had to force myself to stay conscious of her and be as gentle as possible while Bella began to react in pain—no matter how much she attempted to conceal it from me.

I decided to heal her delicate little body when I made sure to prevent any possibility of a pregnancy. I didn't tell her; I'm not sure she'd approve, but I couldn't bear the knowledge that I'd caused her physical pain.

I have to keep reminding myself that while I have the strength and endurance that no human can match, Bella does not. She's as fragile and tender as the wings of a butterfly.

I eventually succumb to sleep with Bella against me, with my limbs tangled around the warm dampness of hers. It surprises me how effortlessly I can fall asleep, and stay asleep, especially with the sweet scent of her body saturating my own and flooding my senses.

If I wanted to, aside from removing all pain from her body, I could see to it that Bella didn't need to sleep; nor myself for that matter. It would give us a lot more time together, but it wouldn't feel right. Besides, sleeping with her is one of the very few human intimacies that I'd never choose to trade. Not to mention the fact that I could sit and watch Bella sleep for hours. The complete vulnerability of her unconsciousness makes her even more beautiful, and she talks in her sleep.

She talks about me.

By nine am I awake, hastily dress myself, and head downstairs to the dining room to bring back breakfast. I'm famished, and Bella has to be more so. We barely ate the night before, and I'd worked up quite an appetite.

In a small room off the main dining area, a smorgasbord of freshly cooked breakfast food sits, along with a self-serve coffee machine, a stainless steel hot water urn for tea and other beverages, and several jugs filled with juice. I'm practically salivating, and grabbing a tray and two plates, I pile them high with bacon, scrambled eggs, pancakes and hash browns before pouring two tall glasses of orange juice. Then setting them before the cashier, who only stares at me wide-eyed and dumb-founded, I flash her a drunken grin.

Through her mind, I see my own reflection. My eyes are almost burning, my hair is a complete mayhem, my shirt is buttoned up unevenly, while my jeans hang low from my hips—almost revealing a little too much. I am in such an utter disarray that I almost don't recognize my own appearance.

She pauses, pulling up short and blinking repeatedly for several moments, before she gains control of herself. "You must be hungry," she observes, flashing me a slightly unhinged smile as she passes me two sets of utensils and several sachets of sauces.

"Starving," I reply.

"Would you l-like to purchase your wife a rose?" she stammers, her eyes remaining steeled to mine in almost confusion, even as she motions to the bouquet of single-wrapped red roses behind her.

"Sure," I reply, pulling my father's credit card from my back pocket and handing it to her.

She rings up my purchase as I ignore her inner ramblings. My thoughts are too preoccupied by the last several hours causing the grin plastered across my face to become almost as unbalanced as hers.

"Enjoy," she utters, continuing to stare at me in shock as she hands me the receipt. My god, that boy is pretty, her inner musings add.

"Thanks, but my wife is prettier," I reply, deliberately winking at her, and almost laughing out loud as she openly balks. Then, with my grin pulling wider, I pick up the tray and head back to our room.

Bella is still out cold, her long dark hair draping in waves over her shoulder and the mattress as it frames her pale, slightly flushed face. Smiling impulsively to myself, I set the tray down on the nightstand and pick up the rose; carefully pulling it from the plastic wrapping.

"Bella..." I whisper, leaning over her and gently running the petals of the flower down her nose and over her lips.

She smiles even before sleep has fully left her, gently swatting away what's tickling her. "Five more minutes..." she mumbles, reaching out blindly to grab my fingers.

"I brought breakfast," I murmur in her ear. "Are you hungry?"

She takes a deep breath, exhaling into a sleepy smile as her eyes slowly open and she squints up at me. "Edward..."

"Hm?" I run the rose playfully over her cheek before she takes it from me and inhales the scent of it in.

"Where did you get this?" she asks, her voice adorably husky.

"From the rather shell-shocked lady serving breakfast—who thinks I'm incredibly pretty," I joke, laughing as her expression warms in amusement.

"You are incredibly pretty," she teases me, sitting herself up and stretching her arms in the air, moaning contentedly as she does.

As she continues to extend her small body, yawning and pushing the effects of sleep aside, the sheet that was wrapped loosely around her slips down revealing her breasts and stomach. Almost immediately, my eyes zero in on them until I am all but moaning along with her.

Noting where my focus lies, she quickly pulls the sheet back up securing it under her arms. "Oh, no. Not until I take a long, hot bath," she informs me, her lips pulling again into a knowing smirk before she gently flicks my chin.

Leaning forward, I press my lips to her bare shoulder, and then to her ear. "Breakfast first, then a long, hot bath, and then...?" moving back to meet her gaze, I raise my brows a little too shrewdly.

She only rolls her eyes until they suddenly fix to my face, and with her forehead bridging, she pulls back to further examine me.

"What?" I ask curiously, tilting my head.

"You look...different..." she mumbles, her brow furrowing further in distraction.

"Huh? How?"

For several moments she only stares at me, her eyes canvassing every inch of my face before she appears to let it go, shaking her head to herself. "I don't know..."

Chuckling to myself, I reach out and tuck the chaos that is her long hair behind her ear and out of her face. "Too much sex has clouded your judgment, Mrs. Cullen."

She grins, scoffing softly past it as her eyes dart to the two plates of food over my shoulder.

Grabbing the tray I sit beside her on the bed, and for the next half an hour I gorge myself while making sure Bella eats an adequate amount at the same time. She has the appetite of a sparrow, and needless to say, she's going to need a lot more energy in the hours to come.

I end up shoveling forkfuls of food into her mouth while it spills all over her and onto the bed. She laughs, almost chokes, and while in the process of sucking Maple syrup from her chin, we almost fall into "Act Four".

After, I run her a bath in the huge oval spa utilizing the complimentary bath salts and oils that sit in a basket on the vanity. While she relaxes in the tub, I shave. It's not as if I really need to, but I'm determined to continue the pretense of normalcy. The charade of happy newlyweds so I don't arouse Bella's suspicions. These last remaining hours I need to provide her with as many memories as I can; enough memories to last a lifetime. Her lifetime without me.

It's easy enough to lose myself with her, to lose sight of what awaits us both, because I'm as happy as she is. In fact, I'm happier than I have ever been in the four thousand years of my stagnating human existence. However, as the minutes turn to hours, the panic that has been whispering in the shadows of my mind has slowly spread its tentacles around my heart. I'm beginning to feel as though I am slowly drowning.

"Edward." Bella's soft voice breaks me from my dark thoughts.

I turn my head, glancing over my shoulder to meet her gaze. "Hmm?"

"You're going all serious again," she notes, though her expression is easy and calm; free from worry.

I hastily force the grin to my face and fabricate a response. "I'm trying to work out what you think is so different about me."

In return, she breaks into a toothy smile. "I swear there is definitely something different about you."

Smiling slightly to myself, I turn back to the mirror and lather my face in shaving cream. In an effort to distract myself, I pay closer attention to my reflection than I otherwise would have.

Do I look any different? I don't appear so, and after examining my features from several angles as I run the razor down my day-old stubble, I come to the conclusion that Bella must be imagining things.

Something I relay to her after wiping my face and neck clean with the heated hand towel that hangs to the side of the vanity.

"There is nothing different about me other than four thousand years of sexual tension that's finally been lifted from my shoulders," I joke, slapping on aftershave and turning just in time to see the broad grin spread slowly across Bella's face.

"You're crazy," she murmurs, eyes closed as she soaks in the scented, blubbing water. "Come and join me?"

I don't need a second invitation, and after stripping my clothes a little too eagerly from my body, I step into the warm soapy tub with her. She sits up, scooting forward, accommodating me so I can slide beneath the water behind her before she relaxes back against me.

Curling my arms around her I pull her further to me as she takes a deep breath, and releases it into a lazy-sounding sigh.

"Let's stay like this forever." She mumbles, interlacing her fingers with mine and turning her head to tenderly kiss the side of my neck.

I close my eyes, resting my nose and lips against her brow. "Hmm...Forever..."

Forever... A word that does not extend to us, because while we were fated to meet, were we always destined to be apart.

"Edward...?" she breaches after the longest pause where I was certain she'd fallen asleep against me.

"Hm?"

"Are we going to live with your parents?"

Feeling my forehead bunch, I pull back to see her face. "Of course we are. Where else would we live?"

"I...I thought you might make me go back to the convent," she admits in a small voice.

My breath shoots quickly through my nose as I try not to laugh. "God, no. No more convents."

"Good," she says, flipping herself around until her chest is flush against me. She presses her lips to mine, and then again, as her mouth slowly parts.

Round four takes place in the bath, and unlike the three previously, it's Bella who's on top of me. Even still, I struggle to contain the energy that once more plows through my hybrid body, heightening my senses and taking me to a higher plane until I forget my own strength; forget the damage I can inflict on a fragile human body. I naively believe that while I am not weighted against Bella, she's in no harm.

We completely flood the bathroom, and in that moment of unchained surrender, my wings once again tear violently through my back. The force of them this time shatters through the window behind us, pushing both Bella and I sharply forward to the front edge of the bath and slamming us against the side of the vanity.

I could see it coming, and despite pulling her tightly against me and wrapping my arms securely around her, I could not stop the impact. The force snaps several of her ribs and punctures her lungs, and the sound of it is so sickeningly loud that it sends chills through my veins.

She immediately cries out as blood sprays from her mouth, and in a blind panic I gather her into my arms, race her back into the room, and carefully lay her back down on the bed.

She's completely rigid and her entire face is distorted in pain. "Ed..." she attempts to speak when I hastily shake my head.

"I'm so sorry, sweetheart," I burst, besieged by utter guilt and horror before I place my palm between her breasts and close my eyes.

In no more than a second she is healed, while the illumination of the spear's power burns through her to the surface of her skin.

Her body immediately becomes fluid, though her eyes remain wide and awash with shock. She takes several tentative breaths, as though testing the capacity of her lungs before she fully relaxes.

"Okay, maybe no more fooling around in the bathroom," she says, and her tone is light, almost playful.

Running both my hands stiffly back through my hair, an utterance bursts from me that exists somewhere between disbelief, shock, and relief. I collapse beside her on the bed and pull her a little too roughly into my arms. A reflexive sound bursts from her lungs and I immediately slacken my grip around her.

"Jesus..." I utter to myself in barely a whisper before burying my entire face against her hair. "Please forgive me, Bella."

"Don't be silly," she reassures me, curling herself further against me. "It's just one of the hazards of marrying an angel," she adds simply.

I groan only partially beneath my breath. "Please don't joke about it."

But she's determined to make light of it.

"Imagine if you didn't have the spear and we had to go to the emergency room? How would I explain it to the doctor? 'My husband and I were having sex when his wings shot out and knocked me unconscious'." She laughs wholeheartedly.

"It's really not funny," I counter, even as I allow a slight smile to tug across my face in response.

"It is." She nudges me. "Speaking of wings, Edward. They're still out."

Taking a frustrated breath, I withdraw them and roll to my back, pulling her on top of my chest. We're both still dripping wet, but the feel of Bella's warm, damp body against mine is indescribable. She fits so perfectly with me, despite the eleven inches of height difference between us.

"Can I ask you something?" she asks.

"You can ask me anything," I remind her.

She props herself up against my chest so she can meet my eyes. "Okay, but promise me you won't get all serious and old-world-angel."

I raise a cynical brow and groan, only half teasing. "What do you want to ask me?"

"Promise me first," she insists.

"No."

She huffs shortly and scowls at me. "You just gave me internal injuries—you owe me one!"

I consider the idea of being offended, only I'm finding it increasingly difficult to hold back the smirk. "Are you really going to hold that against me?"

"Just promise me!" she's becoming exasperated, and I sigh loudly.

"Okay, I promise I won't get all serious and old-world-angel." I imitate her, and only succeed in annoying her further.

She shoves against me, and I get the impression she's not nearly as angry as she wants me to believe. "You're only one year older than me, so stop acting so patronizing."

I break into an impulsive grin. "I'm eighteen months older—and several thousand years."

Her entire expression darkens this time, and for a half a second I'm almost convinced she's genuinely angry. I breach her thoughts without conscious decision, and discover two things: the first, she's not as angry as much as she's frustrated, and the second, she wants me to take her flying.

"Okay, okay, we'll go flying," I relent before realizing my error.

Her mouth drops open, her eyes narrowing. She's completely affronted, before in the next moment, she knees me in the groin.

In reflex, I jerk away from her, heaving in my breath and covering my afflicted anatomy with both my hands. "Mother of God!" I burst when I can find my voice, curling myself in the fetal position and moaning loudly.

Despite being in possession of all the power under Heaven, with a single strike, Bella—all one hundred pounds of her—has completely incapacitated me.

"Oh my god! I'm so sorry, Edward!" I hear Bella's high pitched exclamation behind my tightly closed eyes as I will the horrendously pounding ache radiating from my groin to dull.

"I'm...I'm okay..." I utter in a hopelessly fractured voice, rolling myself over just in time to see her running toward me.

The white Mayflower Inn robe is wrapped loosely around her, the spearhead raised in her right hand; as if she means to stab me with it.

For the second time, I respond in pure instinct; lurching myself further away from her, I raise my hands in a defensive position. "Bella, what the hell are you doing? Put that down!"

She continues toward me as though she hadn't heard me, her expression continuing to twist in concern. Without another moment's delay, I leap off the bed, grab her roughly around the waist, and rip the spear from her hand. "What the hell were you thinking?" I demand, and this time it's me who's angry.

Her breath draws sharply in surprise and she peers up at me. "I-I'm sorry, Edward. I was going to heal you."

"Heal me?!" I echo her, my voice hard and in complete disbelief, making her jump in her skin. "You could have killed me!"

Her eyes widen and flood with remorse, and for a single moment, I'm almost afraid she's going to burst into tears. Then, without any warning, her entire mindset flips.

"What the hell are you so angry at me for?" she challenges, glaring up at me. "You're the one who trespassed on my thoughts. How would you feel if I did that to you all the bloody time?"

"Do you want to read my mind? I can make that happen," I offer without pause.

"No!" she declares, opening her mouth to, no doubt, berate me further when she stalls and breaks my gaze—quite blatantly questioning herself. "I...I...no," she reiterates, soundly wholly unconvincing that I immediately break into a grin and attempting to smother it through my nose. "You're real clever," she mutters begrudgingly, and I can't help it, I laugh.

"I'm sorry," I concede, releasing my breath. Then tossing the spear to the nightstand, I wrap both my arms around her and pull her against me. "It wasn't intentional. Sometimes you just pop into my head."

"I forgive you," she murmurs, but there is an element of cynicism to her tone; something she elaborates on. "Even though you told me you have to make a conscious decision to read someone's mind."

She's stumped me, and for several seconds I open and close my mouth repeatedly, searching for the words to vindicate myself. In complete defeat, I drop my face to the top of her head and groan out loud. "Bella, you are going to be the death of me."

Quite literally.

A/N: let me know how you liked, and see you all next week. Not too many chapters left now :(