Demetri did not ask if he could kiss Bella, nor did he ask permission when he further spread apart her split nightgown. The crimson satin eased off the sides of her body, pushed down to melt into the soft folds of the bedspread.

His cold fingers slid up her thigh, squeezing at the tender skin, making her shiver but not with pleasure. The rest of her body wanted to crawl away from this contact and everything else he'd promised to do.

"Does this feel good?" He watched her intently, his face only inches from her own.

Bella turned away. She couldn't fight him. She could only endure what he chose to do, and she chose to do so silently.

"Hmm." Demetri's fingers moved slightly upwards. "Perhaps here instead?" He rubbed gently but still in the same place, the repetition in such a sensitive spot quickly becoming distressing and uncomfortable. She twitched and tried to yank herself away from his touch.

"Wake up, Bella." Edward's voice was the only soft thing in this nightmarish moment.

She jerked as her eyes opened, sitting up and trying to shove off the body that wasn't actually there.

Edward's hand riffled through his hair as he leaned forward in the chair by the bed. He looked like he wanted to stand but was hesitating.

Bella swallowed, aware that her breathing was very erratic. "That was just a dream," she said to herself, a really shitty dream that seemed to be playing on repeat. Her breathing continued its unsteady rhythm.

Edward cleared his throat.

No. He made a sound as if he'd cleared his throat; vampires didn't need to clear their throats.

"Hi," she said.

He nodded curtly, his jaw tight. "How're you feeling?"

"Not great."

"It's been about a day and a half since you've had any venom, Bella. Your heart is—"

"Beating too fast." She could tell.

She closed her eyes, trying to make peace with what she knew was imminent. How she felt about Edward didn't make it any easier nor did knowing how he felt about her. Physical contact—she shuddered.

But it was better if they got it over with sooner. "Okay."

"Where is it easiest to do this?" Edward asked. He eyed the chair.

She knew sitting there would be physically awkward for both of them and shook her head. "Here's probably best."

He sat beside her on the bed, then scooted back, bringing his legs around her in a V so that her back rested against his torso. Despite the fact that she knew this was in no way sexual, she blushed. He wasn't aroused, but she could feel him nonetheless. This was not a position in which they'd ever sat before. Uncomfortably confused feelings, physical and emotional, tangled together in her gut.

Without touching her skin with his hand, Edward pushed her hair aside and brought his tongue to the back of her neck. She shivered, the twitch in her skin continuing as he moved in slow and methodical lines. It alarmed her how insanely good it felt, not his body touching hers, but the chemistry playing out inside her. The glow that began as heat spread, waves of it moving directly outward from where his tongue met her skin. It was a struggle to keep her breathing even. He switched sides, and control became more difficult as increased sensation spread throughout her torso. Her chest and then her breasts ached with pleasure. When he knelt in front of her, tongue to her clavicle, the warmth reached a place where she didn't want to feel it—no, she corrected herself, a place where she didn't want to remember what she had felt there so recently.

Demetri had made good on one aspect of his promise: what he'd done had pulled pleasure from her body, unwilling as she had been in its rendering. She had felt the diverting sensations then, but now she felt the ensuing guilt and revulsion.

She yanked herself away from Edward before that feeling arose again.

Edward remained frozen on the bed, and she understood he was worried that his movement would frighten her. "Your heart rate is still very elevated," he said carefully, just as carefully shifting his position to sit cross-legged.

"Yes," Bella agreed. Shame made her cheeks warm uncomfortably. "I just need a break."

"Of course," Edward said.

The itchiness had returned. She wanted to twitch because it was so uncomfortable but also because she knew the cure was sitting so close by. Her discomfort extended to the silence between them, and she felt obliged to provide something of an explanation. "Sorry, it just . . . felt too good."

"You've become addicted to the venom, Bella. It's natural that your body reacts favourably to it."

"It's not that."

"Is it something to do with what Demetri did?" Edward asked softly.

She supposed her flaming cheeks were hint enough. "Yes."

She had allowed herself to pretend, when necessary, that Edward would not know the details of what had happened. She could not pretend any longer, nor could she find her voice to relay her specific concern. Her face was warm with both shame and then frustration.

Edward seemed to understand, though. "Some reactions are simply physiological, Bella, not intentional. And it's not at all unusual for women to experience physical arousal during an assault. It doesn't mean you wanted that."

Though relieved she didn't have to explain, her greater discomfort remained. In part, she understood that it would be better if she simply accepted what had happened to her. She hadn't had any choice, after all, but it was not so simple to detangle herself from those powerful emotions.

"I'm sorry," he said.

And along with all those powerful feelings, anger rose too. "Why are you apologizing?" she snapped. "It wasn't your fault." The guilt hit like whiplash. She pressed her hands to her face. "Oh, Edward. I'm sorry. You didn't deserve that."

Edward's hand twitched forward slightly as if he wanted to reach for hers, but he kept it where it was.

What he had said was logical, but her feelings around what had happened were not. "I get what you're saying, and it's reasonable. It's just—"

"Hard to accept."

"Yes."

"I can imagine it would be frightening to anticipate feeling that way again, especially near one of our kind." He spoke softly.

"You can say that again." She looked at the books on the bedside table. His choice of reading material took on a whole new dimension.

Edward's gaze followed hers. "They didn't really tell me anything I didn't already know. When Rosalie joined us, it was a . . . difficult transition, as it was when Emmett arrived."

She nodded, remembering her conversation with Rosalie about the last moments of her human life. She realized, somewhat belatedly, why Edward seemed so good at understanding what was happening to her now. Perhaps he hadn't seen firsthand what Rosalie had experienced, but she had admitted to bringing all of those devastating memories with her when she had joined the family. Not only had Edward been there for Rosalie's change, he would have seen the moments of his sister's attack as she'd relived them. What was different, Bella realized now, was that he had seen her own assault through the mind of her rapist. As Rosalie had reminded her, vampire memories were forever. Oh, Edward.

Her heart pounded loudly in her ears and not because she felt anxious. A fresh wave of prickles rippled over her skin, and she knew that if Edward didn't start again, she'd begin feeling the more profound effects of the withdrawal.

Taking a deep breath, she said with as much humour as she could muster, "I warn you, I may ugly cry."

Edward chuckled. "You could never be ugly."

It was a real laugh that left her lips. "You have always been very good at flattering me."

"Flattery is insincere, and I am in no way insincere in my praise." There was no hint of humour in his voice.

Don't, she told herself, when she thought to deny the compliment. She'd always rejected his praise before, struggling under a weight of unworthiness. She had grown out of that timid adolescence in the last few months, and she wasn't going back. Meeting his gaze, she nodded, accepting this compliment.

"Ready?" He held out his arms and knelt, his position inviting her return.

"Sure," she said. With an uncomfortable fluttering in her stomach, she moved closer so that she sat facing him. He leaned forward to begin his ministrations. This time, he began just below her clavicle, working outwards and down her arms. The warm inner glow grew rapidly, spreading again down through her stomach, her hips, and finally all the way to her legs. The sensation she feared didn't occur, and when she was certain of that, her muscles unclenched, her defenses finally dismantled. It wasn't pleasure she felt but relief and then finally sadness that she still feared Edward's touch.

- 0 -

It was just over a week since they'd returned, and as Bella stared at her small bag of possessions, she frowned. Though she hadn't explicitly discussed it with the Cullens yet, she knew she was almost ready to return home. She was able to go a full thirty-six hours without needing venom, and even then, the withdrawal symptoms had been very mild when she'd tested her endurance. However, looking at her bag, she knew that there was no way Charlie would believe she'd lived in Italy for three months with only what was there. The absence of souvenirs was noticeable, too, not that she was much of a shopper. Still, she would have come home with something.

She pulled the brush through her hair one last time and then smoothed her shirt down over her stomach. It was a habit she'd developed in Volterra, studying herself in the mirror before she went outside. She chuckled a little. Alice would be proud.

"Morning," Edward said, knocking on her door. When the worst of the withdrawal had ended, so had her lack of privacy. She went to sleep alone, and she woke alone. She liked it.

"Hey, yourself," she replied, smiling at him. He backed up from the door as she approached.

"Breakfast?" he asked.

She nodded, following him down the stairs. He kept a careful distance from her, leaving just enough space for her to feel comfortable.

While she'd appreciated the food that had been prepared for her by the Cullens, her own desire to cook had won out soon after her strength returned. She'd missed not just creating her own meals in Volterra but having the ability to be creative with food, period.

"Eggs again?" Edward asked.

"Mm-hmm," she said, cracking two into a bowl and whisking them. Beside her, the frying pan sizzled with garlic, onions, and mushrooms. She contemplated adding ham and parmesan. "Judging my dietary choice?" She lifted a playful eyebrow.

"No. I'm just surprised. I'd have thought you'd want more variety in your food, or you know, Pop-Tarts."

She shrugged and chuckled. "Pop-Tarts are old Bella, I guess. I'm just happy to make my own food. God, my own hot food." That last part was more than true.

Someone had already readied the coffee press, and for this she was grateful, pouring the hot water into the container.

"Cold food does sound unappealing," Edward agreed, making a face.

She blinked. He never referred to his hunting. Perhaps this was a sign of a new Edward? "Yeah, that does sound . . . eww." She thought of cold deer blood.

Edward didn't look away, but there was a flicker of discomfort in his features.

A change of topic was in order. She cleared her throat. "I should start making plans to go home."

Edward's eyes widened slightly.

"I mean, I want to see Charlie—"

"I understand," Edward said. "Sorry, I . . ." He pulled in a breath and released it.

It was instinctual to reassure him, reaching out a hand to briefly grab his, but as soon as she did, she gasped, releasing it as if touching his skin had burned her.

"Sorry," she whispered.

Edward's lips twitched. "Keep talking like that, and Charlie's going to think you've been in Canada all this time."

She blinked, then abruptly laughed as she got the joke. "Right. Well, on that note, I'm thinking I need to get a few things before I appear at home."

"Okay." Edward folded his arms. Bella wondered if it was so he didn't try to reach out to her. "Have you given any thought to what you're going to tell him about your time away?"

"Some," she said. "I mean, I have the cover story the Volturi created, but . . ." She wasn't entirely sure how she would explain to Charlie her physical aversion to the Cullens. She also wasn't sure how she was going to feel about being near Charlie either. Would she even be able to hug him? She knew that sticking as close to the truth was best. "He's going to see that something has happened, and I'd rather have an explanation to give him than be at the mercy of his questions or suspicions."

She plated her omelette and brought it to the table along with her coffee. Edward sat down across from her as she began eating, but instead of watching her, he seemed to be quite interested in the view through the kitchen window. She took a sip of coffee before continuing her thoughts. "I was planning to tell him that I'm recovering from an addiction."

Edward nodded, looking at her then. "It's true enough, and it gives you a reason not to want to discuss your time in Italy."

She took another sip of coffee, enjoying the warmth of the cup in her hands.

"Will you tell him about . . . ?"

He didn't need to finish the question for her to understand to what he referred. Despite having considered this possibility herself, the drink still curdled in her stomach. She put down the cup. "No."

Edward exhaled slightly. He seemed mildly relieved by her response. "May I ask why?"

"He's probably going to be really angry with me, Edward, and that I can deal with, but I don't know if I could handle him looking at me with pity for the last few months I have him in my life."

Edward's jaw tightened.

"You don't approve."

"No, I—it isn't my place to decide or approve," he said, shaking his head. "You need to make your own choices. I'm . . . I wish I had found another way to extricate you without having to have made that bargain. But you know even more about our world now and Aro . . . well, his letting you leave with me was already a huge concession."

Ah. He still didn't want to change her. Her old insecurity returned with full force, the emotions washing over her face.

His gaze softened immediately. "It isn't that I don't want you to be like me, Bella," he said earnestly. "It's that I want it to be your choice entirely—when, if, where, and why. I hate that there is this sword hanging over your head."

Relieved, Bella scolded herself for her brittle insecurity, realizing afresh that she and Edward were now of the same mind on a topic that had divided them so profoundly before. The irony of these circumstances did not escape her.

"When?" she asked. She assumed it was soon, but she hadn't been ready to ask before now.

He looked down. "By the fall, before the beginning of October at the very latest. The very latest."

Just over three months. It was more than some people got when given a terminal diagnosis, wasn't it? "Okay." She would get to say goodbye. She could make peace with this.

"I think your plan with Charlie will work. You can truthfully say that Carlisle has supervised your treatment. He can help you with your other medical needs too."

Her gaze flicked back up to his over the rim of the mug. What other medical needs? "And what would those be?"

"Have you had enough to eat?" He wasn't even pretending he hadn't avoided her question as his facial features displayed his discomfort.

"I have now." She put her cup down, nudging her plate farther away from her. "What medical needs?"

He said it quietly as if to make sure his words wouldn't travel to all the ears in the house—as if that were even possible, she thought wryly. "Your stitches should be nearly dissolved, but they should be checked, given . . ." She watched his lips twist with something like chagrin as his voice trailed off.

Oh. "I can have that taken care of when I'm home."

Edward shook his head. "You can't see another doctor, Bella."

And now that he had put it into words, she recognized the truth her intuition had already known. "It's my heart, isn't it?"

"Partly, yes."

"And?"

"Truthfully, we have no idea what the venom's done to you." He looked pained to say it. "We can't risk anyone becoming curious about it."

No, they couldn't. Even though so many details were difficult, a surprising spark of joy could be found in his words.

"There would also be other questions about such an injury," Edward continued, clearly unaware of where her thoughts had focused, "and while I'd like to think that a doctor would respect a patient's confidentiality, the peninsula is a small place. I don't think you'd want your father to hear about it indirectly."

She nodded in agreement, but then she smiled a tiny smile at him.

"I did not expect this topic of conversation to produce that reaction," Edward said, puzzled.

"It's not that," she said. "It's just that earlier, you said 'we.'"

His smile was as uneven as ever, but she thought that perhaps it was a tiny bit bigger than she'd seen in a while.

She'd take that.

A/N for 2020-08-26: Many, many thanks to Chayasara and Eeyorefan12 for all their work on this chapter.

Someone asked if this story was wrapping up soon. Erm, no. There will be about 60 chapters in total.

- Erin

DISCLAIMER: S. Meyer owns Twilight. No copyright infringement intended.