Ah, alas, I am embarrassed to say that it took this long to post an update. Yikes. Four years. However, I promise action, adventure, and romance! Also, another 50 pages of mostly polished story, waiting on my hard drive. Thank you, wonderful readers, for your patience.

Part Ten

I am angry. Irrationally, ridiculously angry. It feels very much like the heat boiling behind my eyes might just incinerate everything that it comes into contact with. I walk with my eyes closed, not needing my sight to navigate the familiar hallways, as if that might be some latent power only beginning to show itself. Jane and I are almost identical – why shouldn't I be able to hurt people with my gaze just as she does?

But that's the thing – the almost – which separates us. I can't decide if it's a good thing or not. She can give pain to people and enjoys doing so, hurting people; I can take everything away from them and I find no joy in it at all.

It's easy for the others to declare which of us is amoral– or at least which of us is more apparently so. However, Jane is fine with this life – happier with it, as far as I can tell, than she was with her human one. Why should she care what others think? She has no regrets, no hang-ups, no panic attacks.

Maybe it's her gift, I muse, that has spared her. She takes all of her anger out on other people.

I could never do that.

I can be callous, though, and I have been easily – with Edward, with others. I can envy her misplaced judgment.

The contents of my desk go flying as I pass it, having found my room by memory after briskly gliding through the dungeons – where I wouldn't run into anyone – to attempt to dispel my anger. I open my eyes in time to see a pot of ink smash against the wall, black liquid dripping down like some sort of garish artistic rendering of my own twisted thoughts. The glass tinkles against the stone as it lands, flicking flecks of inky black in a near perfect circle.

I swipe at the ink on the wall, though not hard enough to decimate the stone. It covers my hands, filthy and sticky and slick. It doesn't stain because my skin is not porous like it once was – rather, some of it dries as I stare at it, fascinated, while the rest slides off my flesh like oil on water. The specks of dried ink flake off as I flex my fingers and lean against the wall, sliding down to sit at its base next to the slowly pooling ink and its shattered glass container.

I think about Edward, still raging inside, but no longer feeling as if I might spontaneously combust or otherwise harm someone. I meticulously grind the small shards of glass into dust between my thumb and forefinger. The dried ink on my hand flakes off as I do so, like it is being repelled from me, leaving the skin beneath it as flawless as it was before.

Why does he do this to me? What is so fucking special about him that he is one of the few that gets to know about my whole life, my secrets and struggles, without needing to yield anything in return? What divine intervention blessed him with this?

The obvious answer – that this is all just an accident of fate – is unappealing to me.

So, I wonder, what is an acceptable answer?

He finds me some hours later, still on the floor next to debris from my desk. This is the first time he has visited me here and he assesses my space like he is going through a checklist, itemizing my sparse belongings. His vibrant eyes trace the path of the black ink along the wall, recreating my tantrum, and land on me.

"It occurs to me that, maybe, I don't know how to tactfully inquire about things anymore," he says matter-of-factly.

I don't say anything, but he seems to take that as an invitation.

"In fact, I've realized that I have been so focused on myself that I've neglected to consider you – odd, I know, since I spend most of my time invading your privacy like some sort of voyeur. But, I haven't been treating you right, and I apologize. I should have known better than to pry, when you clearly wanted me to drop the subject. I was being selfish and self-centered, even though I have tools at my disposal to be otherwise."

He sat down in front of me, crossing his legs. "I know now that I'm not the only one here who has trouble facing what has happened to them. I'm sorry that I forgot that you were one of those people."

"I don't know what you are talking about," I mumble.

"Alec, I'm starting to think I might know you better than I know myself," he affirms, then jokes with a chuckle, "It's a little terrifying, actually."

I crack a small smile. "You should be terrified, if that little twinkle of consciousness is what you consider 'knowing me.'"

His eyes glimmer, his expression kind. "Well, then, I'd like to get to know you more, if only so I can be less terrified."

I am a little taken aback by his candor.

He sees it easily in my expression. "I think our mentor-mentee relationship allows for us to work on friendship, as well."

Friendship is a concept that is almost completely novel in this fortress, at least for me. My other relationships are more business-like, surface-level, in nature. Despite its unfamiliarity, I like it. "I suppose so," I smile as I get up.

Something seems to click into place within me, a ballooning emotion in my chest. I feel like I can be honest with him, something I rarely get to feel with anyone here.

"Good, because I'd hate to have to tell Aro you're not helping me 'adjust,'" he jokes and stands, pulling me up with him. "I think you'll need more than a broom, though, to clean up this mess."

"You better get started, then," I say while striding for the door, an amused look on my face. "Cleaning up after others is an important aspect of being in the Volturi."

I shut the door behind me, muffling his protests.

~o~

Like always, time goes by quickly, but I'm surprised by how pleasant everything is.

Somehow, without me knowing the exact point at which it happened, I start to see a friend when I look at Edward, rather than just a newborn, another Guard to contend with. I catch myself looking forward to our time together, forlorn when it comes to a close.

I still occasionally find myself consumed by flames, burning, consumed. But instead of Aro being the one who begrudgingly pulls me back to reality, it's Edward who sits with me, talks to me, brings me back to my senses. There is something comforting about it; at first I feel shame, but Edward never says or does anything to make me feel less than, deficient. The oppressive feeling begins to fade, though not entirely. Whenever I would come back to myself, he would crack a joke, pat me on the shoulder, insist I return to my novellas. But he doesn't ask about the fire again.

Eventually, I almost feel like I owe him an explanation – he's inexplicably suffered along with me, for months, and yet since our argument hasn't asked why.

"No," he says, not even looking up from the textbook he's reading today. "You don't need to tell me. Everything else about you is laid bare for me – you deserve to be able to keep some things secret.

I shift in my chair by his bedroom window. The summer breeze is gone now, replaced by a damp chill that doesn't deter me from sitting at the open window and feeling the wind on my face when it isn't raining.

Bizarrely, I realize that I want to tell him, I just bring myself to disclose all of it just yet.

Edward sits quietly, even though I know he's privy to my internal musings, as I put my thoughts together into something resembling coherency.

I see Heidi stroll across the yard below us – she must be on her way to collect more tourists. Edward grimaces, craning his neck to glance out the window at her. Heidi looks up at that moment and twiddles her fingers at him with a salacious grin.

I lean back in my chair as Edward ducks back, seeming embarrassed.

"Well, she certainly seems to like you." Edward – and now I – rarely see the other Guards anymore, given Edward's need for space from the masses.

"I wish she didn't," he groans. "Her thoughts are like an arrow."

I raise a brow.

"Don't make me spell it out for you, please," he begs, and I laugh.

"Only because you asked nicely," I promise, returning to my book.

"But, since you asked," I pipe up, unprompted. "In case you haven't noticed, the others seem to be falling all over you, despite your youth. Eventually – although I'm sure the thought hasn't even crossed your mind – you might get tired of me."

Edward snorts, a sound that still somehow manages to be strangely dignified.

"I know," I concede, "a strange thought, indeed. But nonetheless, you could always go spend some quality time with one of them. I promise I won't be too insulted."

Edward eyes me. "I don't really want to spend quality time with any of them."

"Well, you don't have to do it for that long –" I counter, looking up from my book. "They don't even have to be your mate – you can still have sex with them."

Edward splutters. He probably would have flushed, if he were still human. "What about you?" He recovers, attempting to divert my attention. "You've been here forever."

I send him a pointed glare, but he just shrugs. I bite the inside of my cheek before answering. "Most do not find the body of a fifteen year old attractive, and the majority of the Guard are physically much older."

"Why is that?"

"Aro likes to let the humans he's been watching mature fully before he turns them – catch them at their prime and all." He already knows why I didn't make it pass my adolescence, so there is no reason to explain it in more direct terms.

"Why didn't he do that with me? Wait a few more years until I was older?"

I sigh. "All these questions, Edward. I really don't know why he didn't wait. It's not my place to question his decisions." Edward doesn't look satisfied with that answer. "Maybe he wanted to see what your gift would be as soon as possible, though I doubt it. He is a patient man. More likely, he thought you would be in some kind of danger later, or he wanted to get to you before you became so well known that your disappearance would be suspicious."

"Isn't my 'disappearance' already suspicious?" He sketches air quotes with his fingers. "I was in the fucking paper!"

I roll my eyes. "No more than the usual, though. If you had gone on to become a great artist, writer, detective – it would have been much harder to snatch you up. That's the problem with the modern world – everyone is always watching. It was so much easier for people to just go missing when there weren't computers and cameras and other electronic shit around."

"Unbelievable," he mutters. "Is that all humanity is to you people? An inconvenience?"

I eye him speculatively. Aro may have misjudged how similar we are – I have trouble reading his expression and understanding the cause of his irritated tone.

"Of course you do!" he barks and I flinch slightly at the pitch of his voice. "You're fucking –" he takes a deep breath, adjusts his volume. "You are one of them."

"So are you, Edward," I cautiously remind him.

"I'm not!" He's shouting again, angry. He takes in my posture, caught somewhere between relaxed and tense, and releases a slow breath. "I'm not. I don't belong here."

"In time, you'll feel differently," I tell him, raising a brow. "What do you think it was like, when Jane and I first came to Volterra?"

"I dunno," he bites back, sarcasm thickly lacing his voice. "New?"

"Ha, ha," I retort dryly. "Clever."

"I try," he mumbles.

"We spoke a Goidelic language at the time," I explain and Edward's eyes turn to mine, confused. "I believe it is now referred to as Middle Irish? Or Middle Gaelic, depending on whom you ask – it's been about three decades since I last studied linguistics."

Edward's mouth gapes open.

"Anyway, Aro, of course, could communicate with us – he'd been watching us for years. That's how he knew when to save us –" I stop, closing my eyes to organize my thoughts. Best to avoid dangerous territory. "After we changed, he brought us back to Volterra with him and we began living here, completely isolated from the small town. The fortress didn't exist then, instead we had a small castle, built into the hillside and nearly inaccessible to the human population that the Brothers presided over. The guard was about the same size as it is now, although it was mostly natives of the region – Italians, some Greeks and Egyptians, too.

"Jane and I were the only members who didn't speak Latin – at that time, Italian languages were already prevalent and varied, but everyone was much older than us and had either spoken Latin in their human life or learned it soon after they joined the Guard. How others treated or regarded us – you can't imagine it. Of course, Aro made sure that they couldn't be openly malicious to us, but they disliked the lengths he had gone to in order to find us and how we were suddenly his favorites."

I glance away. "It was easier for Jane to adapt and they hated her even more for it. I was in near total isolation from the rest of the Guard for several years before I could be trusted not to put everyone around me into a comatose state – it me slightly more likeable to the others, although not by much. Even still, you can see how they treat us. The newer members fear Jane – rightly so, I suppose – and they regard me cautiously. If, for whatever reason, Aro decided to get rid of them – well, they would never realize what was happening until it was too late, would they?"

Edward's expression is tight. "I see where you are going with this."

"Then you see the parallels between how we felt and how you currently feel. We didn't feel like we belonged at all – at least I didn't. Jane might've after the initial shock – she and Aro are close. He treats us with a unique fondness, anyway."

Edward leans back into his chair, all but collapsing. "You really had to be isolated?"

I nod, "Yes."

"Because of your gift."

Another confirmation and a nod.

"So, this whole thing – not being around others – you've gone through that, too?"

"I believe that is what I just said." I dislike repeating myself.

"How can you hate repeating yourself? You like the sound of your own voice!"

Stupid, mind-reading vampires. "Why, yes, Edward, I do. But just because I think that the cadence of my voice is phenomenally soothing, doesn't mean that I enjoy sounding like a broken record."

"Well, aren't you conceited?"

"Quite." I focus back on my book, letting the ambient sounds of the room fade from my mind. Sometimes, I wonder what it was like to be inside Edward's head. Did our disjointed conversations make complete sense to him? Or was he aware that he made no sense half the time and just didn't care?

"So, you don't have one, then?" he inquires, his voice suspiciously casually.

I startle slightly, my head whipping around to look at him. "One what?"

"A mate."

Definitely the former, then. I shrug. "No. Like I said, most don't find my young body appealing."

"Jane has a mate." It's a statement of fact, rather than a contradiction.

I snort. I love my sister, but the only people of significance in her life are Aro and me. "Jane has a fuck buddy. Don't ask me how that happened, though, because I still haven't figured that one out myself."

"But, it proves that some people find fifteen year olds attractive."

"Yes, I suppose – what is your point, Edward? You seem very interested in my personal life. Why not focus on your own?" I don't mean it to sound harsh, but my voice is sharper than I intend. I smile apologetically. "There are plenty of women in this castle who would kill to have you – you are one of the most powerful guards, you are young, good looking – go find one of them," I suggest, picking my book up.

"I think that's the first time I've heard you use young as a compliment," he chuckles. There is a tense pause and I hear him inhale sharply. "Alec, I don't want any of them."

I examine his expression carefully, but his eyes are guarded. "Any of them?"

He breathes deeply and I know immediately that he is about to tell me something that he deems to be very important. "I don't want any of them because I'm gay, Alec." He says it like it's a great declaration, or something.

"Oh." I eye him speculatively. "Teaches me not to assume anything." I go back to my book, turning the page.

"That's it?" he asks incredulously.

My face scrunches with confusion. It's as if he expects me to react poorly to the news of his sexual preference.

"Maybe I did!"

I sigh and put my book back down on my chest. The pages wrinkle slightly against my button up. "Why? Didn't you live in a changing world, or something?" I think about all the advances during the last few decades. "Even the pope doesn't have a problem with it, from what I hear."

"From what you hear." His hand sinks into his hair as he leans back, closing his eyes. "It's never that easy."

"Well, it is here."

"So, you're telling me that you have no problem with this? That no one will?"

I hum. "Has anything from my mind ever given you the impression that I would? I have no issue, really, Edward – I was burned at the stake by religious fanatics for being a witch." I can't help the wince as my detached words, once again, escape my mouth before I have a chance to censure them. I pretend, for my own benefit rather than his, that I didn't make that epic slip-up, because he is probably the only vampire besides Aro who knows that I am not okay, at all, with what happened.

I continue like my harsh words haven't completely derailed my thought process. "I'm the last person who is going to follow a dusty old book that tells me how to live my life. The majority of vampires that you meet will have no problem either, especially after you have mated with someone. Honestly, we're all too busy being aloof and self-centered to give a shit one way or the other."

"Uh-huh." He sounds unconvinced.

"Although," I add, "I can take a guess that some of the ladies here might be a little upset that you are now off the market."

"I was never on the market."

"Meh, they didn't know that. At any rate, you'll still find a nice man to bring to bed, eventually."

Edward's eyes are on me as I return to my book once again, but I feel as if I have been desensitized to his stare after so long of having him focus on my thoughts everyday, so it is easy to studiously ignore it.

Another long silence ensues, which helps to clear some of the residual awkwardness that I am feeling from my own stupidity and bluntness – just because he knows what happened to me doesn't mean I can discuss all the details with him. No, that was better not said or thought about, outside of point-blank, callous statements.

However, despite how wrapped up I am inside my own head, I can tell that something is not quite right with him. He shifts in his chair unnecessarily, pinching the bridge of his nose at times, and lets out long, exasperated exhales.

Eventually, I just can't take it anymore.

"Is something bothering you, Edward?" I ask out of courtesy – because we both know that something is – and seizing the opportunity to further escape my previous blunder.

"No," he lies, crossing his legs and then uncrossing them again.

I close my book this time to let him know that I'm not letting this go. "Seriously, Edward?" We both know you are full of shit, right now.

"God, fine, okay? I just – ugh!" He buries his face in his hands in frustration.

I slide easily into a sitting position and cross my ankle over my knee. A long moment passes as he grumbles irritably to himself, his voice muffled by his hands.

This is still about the whole mating thing, isn't it?

He peeks at me from between his fingers, his red eyes bright. "Yes," he finally says through his palms.

"Are you embarrassed?" I ask, dubious. It dawns on me that if he could be blushing, his face would be in flames right now. "That's cute."

"It is not cute!" he protests, but I continue to smile at him like he is a child who did something amusing.

"Aw, come on, Edward," I coax, standing and walking over to him. I sit on the arm of his chair and pat his shoulder. "You can tell me anything. We're friends, aren't we?"

He continues to hide his face in his hands, mumbling to himself about something I can't understand. I think that I catch the words friends and makes easier, followed by a huff, but I can't be positive.

I grip one of his wrists tightly, tugging at it, but he doesn't budge. "You know that it isn't fair that you can hide from me simply because you're a newborn, right?"

"It's perfectly fair," he argues, but allows me to pull his hand free.

"Seriously, just tell me," I insist. "Nothing will faze me, you know that."

My hand is still around his wrist, his face turned down from mine as the wind ruffles his bronze hair. I move to drop it, realizing that I might have held it for too long to be socially appropriate – in fact, sitting this close to him might be uncomfortable for him. Living with vampires – and Edward – for so long, and mostly in solitude, has left me pretty clueless when it comes to personal space and what's deemed suitable.

Before I can even do more than twitch my fingers, though, his other hand stops me. His long fingers encircle my wrist tightly, keeping me from pulling away. His sigh cuts the air and I can feel the cool breath on my skin, where it raises the light speckling of hair on my forearm.

His eyes are intense as he looks up at me, his expression unreadable. I feel like there is something that he is keeping from me, locked up inside that head of his, that I am in the dark about. He watches me for a moment, trying to gauge something from my thoughts.

His hands move to grip mine between them with purpose and the intimacy of the gesture surprises me. I'm not sure what to think about this new position – it has been too long since someone other than Jane or Aro has touched me – and I am unclear about what his intentions are.

"You really don't know?" His voice is low, but oddly hard, determined.

I shake my head minutely from side to side, my eyes narrowing. He sits up straighter and his hands squeeze mine before one slips quickly up my arm, rustling the fabric of my shirt. I wonder where this sudden change in demeanor has come from, and I am unprepared for when his hand slides around the back of my neck and pulls me down.

It takes me a moment to realize what is happening when his lips connect with mine, hungry and hard against my own. I blink, shock tensing my body, but I don't pull away. His eyes closed, his tongue probes my mouth, coaxing my lips apart, and then his sweet taste infiltrates my senses as he entices my tongue to move along his.

I've never been kissed like this before.

It is an entirely new experience and my mind goes blank for the first time in years. I'm not sure what to do with myself, so I close my eyes and hope that Edward does.

My legs straddle his thighs as he pulls me into his lap, the hand that is not buried in my hair gripping my hip firmly. It dips below the waist of my slacks, his fingers lighting sparks as they flit across my skin briefly. He yanks up the edge of my tucked-in shirt and his hand slides in the most delicious manner along my bare flesh.

Fire ignites at his touch and I can't restrain the moan that bubbles out of my throat. He swallows the sound greedily, his strong hand planting firmly in the square of my back and pushing our bodies closer. My chest makes a sound reminiscent of rocks clacking together as it crashes into his. Through the fabric of our pants, I feel the evidence of his arousal.

My own body is reacting in ways that I never expected, liking the feel of his smooth hands as they hold me to him, his tongue which roughly assaults my own. His stubble prickles in a way that is not unpleasant – strange, scratchy. I wonder briefly why he never shaved it, but then his head tilts to the side to gain better access to my mouth and our bodies grind together delectably, erasing all thought.

My fingers find the hem of his shirt without instruction and run over the planes of his chest, the hard muscles flexing under my touch. I am far too carried away by the moment, but I don't care as he thrusts up against me and I am forced to break away with a low growl and a gasp.

Instead of pulling me back to him, he leans forward and begins to attack my neck, nipping and sucking at the skin while I pant helplessly, my eyes on an indeterminable point on the ceiling, unfocused. His hair tickles the sensitive skin of my jaw, heightening my desire, as his lips close around the shell of my ear and tug.

I gasp at the sensation, a jolt of pure desire racing down from my head straight to my groin.

A loud rap against the door interrupts my hazy thoughts and suddenly I realize exactly how compromising my position over him is. I push against Edward's chest so that I can stand, but he holds me against him, effectively trapping me as he practically growls against my neck.

"Yes?" He's annoyed, and I can feel his breath on my neck, his short beard moving against my neck and shoulder. His chest rumbles against mine and I shiver as his erection shifts slightly against me. My thoughts are incoherent and running a mile a minute, warring with the pangs of desire arcing through me.

"Aro wants to see you." The voice is familiar – Felix. I have half a mind to curse him for interrupting what was clearly something not intended for his ears, while the other part of my brain, the rational part, screams its thanks.

"I'll meet with him shortly."

I hear Felix's soft steps as he retreats back to the stairs and wonder how on Earth I didn't hear him approaching. As soon as his steps fade away, I push back again from Edward, my breathing unnecessarily ragged. He lets me go this time and the instant my body parts from his I begin to ache at the loss. I shove the feeling away as I smooth out the wrinkles in my slacks.

"I'll just – I'll just go," I practically squeak, embarrassment flooding my body as I make for the door. Half of my shirt is still untucked, but I don't bother with it as I escape the room.

"Alec –"

I shut the door on him, cutting off whatever he is about to say to me. I don't know what I am doing, and the realization that I just made out with the vampire newborn that I am supposed to be mentoring hits me like a brick. It is beyond inappropriate, and I know that I can't let it happen again, but somehow I know that if Edward tries to kiss me again, I won't stop him.

Despite how quickly I fled his room, I still like how it felt when he kissed me.

We both know that I did.