I

fell and scratched my knee on a mound of grass. When I looked up, I could see a figure, walking toward a foot path that snaked around a fallen gate. Smoke billowed from above the head. It had to be Edward.

He turned his head ever so slightly as I approached, then quickened his step, his cigarette hanging from his lips. He didn't look to see who had joined him. Obviously, he had no need to guess. My very scent must have signalled I was gaining too close to an undisclosed breach of space.

"Why didn't you wait?" I panted. A stitch gnawed at my side. He glanced occasionally at my rubbing.

"I didn't have all night," he replied, his cigarette bobbing between his lips.

When the pain subsided, I tried to reinitiate the conversation. Or whatever it was we were doing.

"I didn't know you smoked."

"Now you do."

I could see the conversation heading nowhere, but downwards into a spiral of silence.

On his part I knew it was what he wanted. Which was why I was determined to keep us afloat. Chin level at least.

"Are they really that worried?"

He glanced at me, his eyes aglow, slightly silver as they hovered down to my lips. I licked at them, afraid they looked dry. He blinked a lot then looked straight ahead.

"What do you think?" He sounded distracted. Maybe even out of breath.

"I'm… m…sorry," I stammered. He blinked again and inhaled deeply.

"About your eye, too. I didn't get to apologise when you did."

He straightened and walked faster. After another deep inhalation of smoke, he threw the stub into a cemetery bush.

"Don't do that," I snapped.

"Why not?" He asked, vaguely interested.

"To show respect."

"To who? The dead? What do they care?" He sneered. Only his wasn't so repulsive. The cute dimple in his cheek vanished just as soon as it appeared.

"Maybe more than you realise."

"Maybe you care for the dead more than they care for you." He headed onto the lit street with his hands tucked in his jacket pockets.

"At least I care for something," I retorted, wishing I hadn't.

He turned on me quickly, standing so close I could smell the nicotine on his breath. It wasn't foul or even overpowering. On him it smelled good. A scent I could taste and get used to.

"What's that supposed to mean?" His lips moved too fast for me to catch every word.

"Nothing…it just came out." I sighed. Gutless.

"It came out because you meant it." It wasn't said unkindly, only a little perturbed. I was confused by my own snappy accusation. What did I mean?

The street lamps flickered as his eyes trailed down to my lips. They began to burn. I had to survey the street behind him. But there was nothing. No-one, only a wide acre of land and roads, empty of anything that could distract me from his watchful eyes scouring me clean of any memories that didn't include him.

He looked unquestionably handsome standing there all confronting, full of a male self-regarding pride. The street lights shadowed one side of his sharp anchored face, the side where a wry smile brimmed on the outer corner of his lips, curling inwards towards that one irresistible dimple.

"Me." The word darted out like an automated reflex.

"You, what? He asked, making me tingle all the way down to my toes.

"You don't, care for me," I blurted.

His mouth curled into a full blown smile. The tingles extended into a head rush. A warmth enclosed my heart, so that it climbed and beat in the base of my throat.

He leaned in close enough to make my heart stop. "Care for you?" He grinned, repeating it with the utmost care.

"Yes." I tried to look defiant yet shook in my two inch heels.

"And why would I do that?" His tone became thick and rasp, almost soft, possibly a shrewd attempt to make me think he was coming on to me.

I knew it was all in my mixed up mind, but likable all the same.

"Because… I'm practically family." It was the wrong thing to say in the moment my crush was displaying something other than an arid disinterest. His dour expression told me whatever I had miraculously initiated had been well and truly trampled back into outer space, or wherever it had dissipated so easily.

"You were found…in a book store...in Aspen."

"Utah."

"Whatever," he griped. "You're not family."

His seductive tone lost its magic. My heart simmered, but my blood boiled. His arrogance was affecting me in ways I could never describe.

He turned and stalked toward the gates to the Manor.

I deliberately took my time to catch up and he deliberately walked faster.

When we both reached the steps and waited for the door to open, I risked one last comment.

"What makes you think I want you as family anyway?" I eyed the lions head on the door and imagined hitting him over the head with it.

A firm hand grabbed my arm and turned me to him. His lips were close to mine, his breath cool and reviving.

"I don't." His tone was thick with displeasure. My own frustration was growing wild in my gut. His belittling me was like stretching his ego further across my mouth like duct tape.

"You're right." I shrugged out of his grasp and looked him up and down like a flee ridden street rat, only more vile and susceptible of causing me damage. "I don't need you at all."

His lips parted as if to speak. The door opened and a discharge of voices bombarded my ears with hurried calls and grants of welcome, both relieved and distempered, drowning whatever words that had sluggishly escaped his mouth.

"Dear lord where have you been?" cried Carmen, pulling me inside.

They were all standing in the hall, all except Emmett and Tanya.

"Esme go and fetch him," scolded Carmen, patting my clothes.

Edward was behind me, the heat of him still seeping through my shirt.

Carlise was standing far back, winking at me once before eyeing Edward. Bree held some weird looking doll with no hair and a leg missing. Maybe it was an old childhood doll she'd found in the attic.

"I'm sorry I left without telling you Carmen, I didn't."

"Where on earth is he?" Shouted Carmen, ignoring my attempt at an explanation.

I wondered why she needed Emmett so much. But then I realised it wasn't Emmett she demanded to see. It was Dr Lutnis. He scurried down the stairs with Esme, his small thighs moving up and down like an acrobatic crab.

He eased Carmen out of the way and approached me, pushing me down into a chair that appeared out of nowhere, then flashed a pen light into each of my eyeballs as he spoke.

"Are you breathless Bella? Tired?" He wasn't giving me a chance to answer. Plus he was shouting the questions at me. I had to cover my ears. He moved them to check the pulse at my neck.

Carmen was wailing like a neutered cat at this point. Esme and Carlise were ordered to take Bree into the drawing room. They were all refusing to look at me.

"Don't you think you're taking this too far?" muttered Edward, with the slightest ounce of concern in his voice. Carmen placed a hand to his mouth, stepping behind Dr Lutnis.

"What is all this?" I asked, even though I had the general idea.

"Why are you here?" I asked Dr Lutnis.

"Just stay nice and calm Sunshine. We're just running a couple of tests"

"Tests?"

"It's for the best my darling," cried Carmen.

Edward was leaning back against the wall opposite, his head lifted up to the ceiling. I was kind of glad he wasn't choosing to leave me alone with the two Kojaks.

"I don't need any tests," I protested, getting up from the chair. But I was pushed back, anger ricocheted through me.

"Not so fast Princess. We need to get a blood sample," Dr Lutnis said.

"No," I screamed.

"Yes," he demanded.

I shot up the chair and managed to sway past him. "I'm not having any tests" I fumed. "There's nothing wrong."

Carmen blew her nose with her handkerchief. "Denial is the first cause of alarm," she crooned.

Edward still idly faced the ceiling with his hands in his pockets.

"Tell them." I stormed. "Tell them where you found me."

He looked down as if for the first time, the pallor of his skin had turned so pale I was worried it was him that needed medical attention.

"She was with him," he announced, with an expression that read like an open book: unwilling to fully commit.

"That boy," shrieked Carmen.

"Yes, that boy," I yelled back.

Dr Lutnis was rolling up his sleeves, preparing to operate some type of live autopsy.

My brow sweated with anxiety. A panic attack wasn't what I needed.

"Is he supplying to you?" yelled Carmen. "Giving you more of those filthy drugs."

"No. I told you I'm not taking any drugs."

"Is that why you hit poor Jasper, then ran away," said Tanya, stepping out of the dining room with an ice cream.

"I...I…" I tried to explain.

"It was a slap across the face," interrupted Edward, watching me carefully. "He most likely deserved it," he added, hesitantly.

I didn't know why he was defending me, or why he was being considerate all of a sudden. Maybe he'd heard my conversation with Jake and this was his way of returning the favourable comment I made on his behalf.

"The point is my darling that you have been acting very peculiar ever since that night he joined us for dinner," Carmen said.

"That's just a coincidence. He isn't supplying me anything."

Tanya snorted. "Then a blood test will do no harm."

Edward wasn't looking set to say anything else. His shoes had taken priority.

"Carmen, please," I begged. "You have to trust me."

She looked at me then, all ransacked with tears and distressed morals.

"Give me a chance to prove it," I offered.

She smiled like it hurt her entire face, then looked from me to Edward. "Very well," she blew into her handkerchief. "It is late. Edward will guide to your room."

His gaze drifted from his shoes to Carmen. I could see she was silently warning him to comply. Although he wasn't happy to have to listen, he didn't seem all that angered either.

I said goodnight, then made my way up the steep stairs. His cautious footsteps followed me. When I reached my door, I struggled to turn the handle, still feeling him behind me like a recoiling heat.

The door opened and I switched on the light, turning to see him head to his own room.

"Can you come in?" I asked. He was standing by his door, preparing to turn the handle.

"Just for a moment," I assured him.

I could feel the tension traversing through him and into my room.

I closed the door and stepped forward, looking at the rigorous stiffness of his back.

"Thanks for taking my side tonight."

He didn't move.

"It's difficult to defend yourself when so many people believe something that isn't true." I jabbered on, pausing only to hear his reply.

It never came.

He moved to the painting. He stared at it for some time. My hands trembled. I didn't want him to criticize my work, especially since I knew how harsh he could be.

"You painted this?" He sounded impressed. I took that as a good sign.

"Um, yes." I glanced at myself in the mirror. I looked terrible. My shadows made me look like I had vitiligo. Wearing little make-up and inviting Edward into my room with bright lights probably wasn't the greatest idea.

"It's an owl, right?" He sounded circumspect with his question. As if trying not to insult me. That pleased me over the limit.

I quickly combed my hair and applied a faint smudge of lipstick as he continued to inspect my portrait.

"Where are its eyes?" He asked, turning to see me making a mess at my vanity table.

I threw the comb behind me and stood beside him. His eyes were back on the painting, but I could feel a natural source of energy passing between us. Our close knit hands seemed to be connected by some invisible force that pulled me to him, into him, around him, everything that was him.

His breathing sounded unsteady. Was he feeling it too?

I wished with everything that he did, that I alone didn't feel this immense attraction, a connective pulse to be close and wrapped in each other's arms.

Suddenly, I remembered the question. "I'm leaving it till last, to perfect. Eyes are the windows to the soul and all that."

He nodded briefly, as if he understood, but didn't want to admit it.

Did he really know that I was speaking about his eyes? The wondrous colors of their inexplicable palette? How no artist in the world could ever paint them to their likeness?

"You paint well." His tone was too weak to be atoned as accurate. My fingers were inches from his, pining to be make the most subtle contact.

The room grew so quiet I could hear our breathing match, blend into one haggard breath after breath. His finger twitched and connected to mine. A charge ran from the tip and into what felt like the very depths of my dwindling soul. I felt resuscitated, truly awake for the very first time, immersed in the deep thrum of his vibrating heart, pulsating throughout my entire body. He sighed, breaking the hold, then hurriedly stepped across the room and out of the door, taking a dormant part of me I needed back.