A/N for 2020-12-11: Many, many thanks again to Chayasara and Eeyorefan12 for their substantial work on this chapter. I know you've been waiting for it all week, so enjoy!

Erin


Edward wasn't afraid of what Bella had asked of him, at least not the physical element of it. Watching the peace of her innocent sleep, though, he wished he could still be afraid. Extricating himself so he didn't wake her, he went to stand by the window. He didn't want to be near Bella when he thought of his too-real memories of what Demetri had done to her.

As he let his eyes rove over the night-dimmed horizon, he brought the ugly road map that Demetri's actions had left him to the forefront of his mind. He'd once been terrified of hurting Bella, should they attempt what she had proposed they do. Of course, he'd never thought it would happen while she was still human. He shook his head. You said yes, he reminded himself. It wasn't a question of wanting to—God, he'd wanted to and loathed himself for it. How dare he desire something so selfish that would imperil her? He turned his head to look out the other window that framed the corner of the room. He could catch a glimpse of the lake there. Its patterns of ripples and unseen creatures were calming in their own way. He'd not explored its depths, and the mystery of what lurked beneath the silvery surface was a unique distraction.

The mental respite was temporary. Bella sighed in the bed, flopping over from her left side to her right, mumbling something about chicken.

He let himself smile a little. The veil on her thoughts had only lifted twice for him. He longed to know what lingered behind her facial features even though their expressions spoke eloquently to him—how well he knew them. Unlike his previous musings about the lake, it was not simply the unknown that called to him in Bella. There was no value in her thinking being a mystery. No, it was simply that he loved her and wanted to touch on each thing she thought worth touching on with her most idle thought.

He watched her hand twitch and her forehead wrinkle. His gut clenched, anticipating the beginning of a nightmare. "You're going to burn it." She frowned.

He exhaled, shaking his head again in amusement. He had burned her dinner, but he'd considered it a trivial offering to whatever god dispensed the blessing of momentary lapses in time to lovers, for they'd been rather beautifully abstracted in the intimacy of a kiss at the edge of the kitchen. Well, she'd been lost in it. He'd just not cared that the food was burning.

Bella's breathing settled into the deep rhythms of much deeper sleep, and he reluctantly turned back to the window and the horizon.

He'd promised her they would try. It had been close to a lie, that promise. He was fairly confident that he could accomplish what she asked, but he'd needed the possibility of an escape in order to agree. He hadn't needed to read her thoughts to know she saw it as an iron-clad promise. But once the words were out there, once she had made her request, all he could think of was that conversation with Emmett in the woods the week before they'd left for New York.

"You can't say no if she asks," Emmett had told him. "At least, you can't refuse her outright." And then he had gone on to assure Edward that the love he and Bella had for each other would be enough . . . as long as Edward could allow himself to believe it.

What he struggled with now was not the physical act but whether or not he could accomplish it without loathing himself. How could he perform the same actions as Demetri had—without reminding Bella or himself of the horror of that day?

He put his hands over his face, drawing them down as if he were trying to stretch out his inelastic skin, attempting to loosen the twisted knot of his thoughts. He would not be repeating what Demetri had done, he told himself. She was inviting this intimacy. He wanted this intimacy as much as he . . . didn't want it.

"Ach!" The frustrated sound was out of his mouth before he could stop it.

Had he not wanted this for so long?

"I have wanted this with her." He made himself say it out loud as if it would help him acknowledge it honestly. "I have considered it."

He wanted to physically carve out a piece of his brain to remove what he remembered of the rape, and yet, ironically, he knew he could not accomplish what Bella asked without that ugly knowledge.

This was the last step for her towards making peace with an immortal life. Would it help him to remember that? To know that without this experience, she might die without this peace?

He contemplated this for some time.

No. It didn't help.

"Please, let me make peace with this," he muttered. With what she asked. With what I know I will have to do. With ending her human life. With making her like me. The list was endless.

He did not expect a response. And because he was seemingly talking to gods that didn't exist, he added with a quiet and sarcastic snort, "What, one burnt chicken breast isn't enough of a sacrifice?"

The flight of doves was almost silent as they swept by the window. They were so thick in number as to nearly obscure the lake and sky. Grey and mottled, their shapes created a second twilight to the rising dawn.

He was not so sentimental or unworldly as to believe it meant anything supernatural, but he wanted to. It did mean that he could yet be surprised as he had been with Bella so many times before.

It meant that he might have hope. Maybe.

- 0 -

Bella was still sleeping, an occupation which her body resorted to with more and more frequency. Her heart was very weak though it beat with what felt like an attempted faithfulness. Edward listened to it now as a musician would listen to the rhythm of a piece of music, finely attuned to any change in tempo. Since he'd met her, his life had been set to that beat, and he did not relish the silencing of the music he so treasured.

Edward had taken a rare break from being in Bella's room. He and Carlisle were standing a few feet away outside on one of the narrow decks that lined the house, both of them watching the whiz of bugs as they flew by. Larger and more sensitive creatures knew to keep their distance. His scent and Carlisle's kept a circular band around the property free of most other living things. Even so, in the distance he could hear the sound of brockets rutting, their grunts and squeals carrying in the still air.

Carlisle could hear them, too, and Edward listened to his attempts to match species to sound.

"Brockets," he said quietly.

Ah, Carlisle thought. He'd been close, considering the Andean deer.

They both stood in silence, letting the night sounds wash over them.

Carlisle's mind slipped from the sound of the animals to a brief flickering thought of Esme. The thought cut off abruptly, Carlisle's disciplined mind nimbly returning to cool observation of what he saw around him.

"It's all right. I know you miss her."

I'm sorry, given what Bella's asked—

"Do you lose control?" The words almost didn't feel like his own, blurted out as they were. "When you're together in that way—at the end?" It wasn't like he didn't understand the physical mechanics of what happened, but the experience—here his gift could not help him. He had unwillingly witnessed too many such encounters over 80-odd years of living with his talent, but nearly every one of them had led to minds gone incoherent at that crucial point.

Carlisle paused and considered the question. His mind recalled his most recent encounter. Edward listened intently, for it was this experience of the vampire mind that stymied him the most: the vision blurred, conscious thoughts blending into each other like paint sliding into water. Carlisle's recollection of the physical ecstasy made him smile a little as he thought of the ripples and spasms that had travelled through his body.

"To some degree, yes, but . . . there is an awareness in it."

A very, very small awareness, Edward knew. How would he hold onto that tiny kernel?

Carlisle understood Edward's concern. "It is anathema to hurt one's mate. I don't believe you are physically capable of it."

But Edward had hurt Bella plenty, judging by the memories he'd seen in Charlie's and others' minds in Forks. More to the point, he recalled his own memory of Bella's body, crumpled and bloody, lying on the floor where she'd landed after he had used his arm to accidentally sweep her into a glass table which had shattered on impact. He had been intent on protecting her then as well, but controlling supernatural strength in the face of intense emotion was a difficult proposition for any of them. Despite this, his mouth began filling with venom as he considered being so intimate with her. Even now, even after all this time, part of him lusted for her blood just as he lusted for what she wanted. It was so shameful to him, his failure to master even this.

The scent of Edward's venom reached Carlisle. He spoke very softly. "You face unique challenges with a human mate, Edward, and you're unnecessarily hard on yourself in this regard. Need I remind you that you once not only tasted but consumed blood from your singer's body and were able to stop yourself? Why would you believe you are not strong enough for this shared experience?"

Edward sighed. Unique challenges. That was one way of putting it. His "challenges" would be short-lived, at least, and he scowled at the glib idiom as it crossed his mind. Bella had asked that he spare himself the guilt of looking forward to her changed state. He was trying, but it was difficult.

Carlisle returned his mind to the topic about which Edward had initially inquired. It was the closest thing to oblivion that vampires could experience, and Carlisle believed the qualities he was trying to convey were particular to the interaction between mates.

"You think it's possible," he said, addressing Carlisle's thoughts.

Yes. "Very much." Carlisle did not say aloud how happy it made him to think that Edward and Bella might know the joy he had with his own mate.

"Maybe," Edward whispered. His hope was far too eager to free itself from the grip of logic and worry, but he let it flutter and try its wings. His heart felt lighter in that moment than it had a right to feel , but he would need every ally—hope, too—if he wished to succeed.

- 0 -

"Fishing?" Bella asked, eyebrows lifted incredulously.

"Well, it's not really the type of lake you'd want to swim in." She watched Edward eye the murky depths.

The water looked cold to her. Cold and dark. The kind of lake that hid slimy weeds and leeches. No, thank you.

"Yeah, no, fishing is definitely better than swimming. But wait, Charlie taught me that fish have a strong sense of smell—won't they all keep away?"

"Not if I stay back a bit." He jerked his chin in the direction of the treeline.

He'd disappeared from the house in the late afternoon, returning with a twinkle in his eye and the word "surprise" on his lips. She'd agreed to let him carry her—slowly—towards this promised surprise.

She frowned a little, forehead wrinkling. "Edward, why are you taking me fishing?"

His hand rested lightly on her hip, his body cooling hers in the afternoon heat. "Because your dad loves it, and I think, despite all your scoffing about it, you actually like it a little, too."

True. She turned her head back, smirking at him a little. He knew her so well. "Maybe."

"Maybe." He chuckled. "Do you need any help getting bait on your hook?"

"That depends." She squirmed a little internally. Hooking live worms had been Charlie's territory. She cast a quick glance towards the small box of supplies Edward had brought.

"It's not live."

"Ah. Then no, I'm good."

She pulled out one of the pieces of bacon he'd cut up into perfect little squares. Very neat. She didn't tell him that it was better if it was torn—more creature-like. Obviously, he'd gone to some trouble to arrange this, and she wasn't going to spoil any of it. Eyeing the lake, she surmised that there would probably be something like trout to catch. Her mouth watered a little, thinking of the trout she and Charlie used to cook over the campfire when she was little, then the smores they would make for dessert. She wouldn't put it past Edward to have graham crackers, marshmallows, and chocolate bars stashed somewhere in that massive kitchen. She smiled at the thought.

"Careful," she said, "I don't want to hook you by accident." She tipped the rod back.

Edward looked like he was trying not to grin. "I don't think we're in danger of that, but I can think of a few jokes that Emmett would make about your remark."

Bella laughed and had to put the rod down. "Okay. Nice. All right. Let's see if I can make my dad proud here."

As it was, she enjoyed several hours of gentle casting, but there were no bites beyond those of the weeds. It was a perfect and entirely normal way to spend the afternoon.

"Thank you," she said to Edward, standing up on her tiptoes to kiss him before they were to begin their journey back to the house.

"You're welcome." She liked how he smiled even through his kiss. She liked how he seemed to be so much happier when she was relaxed.

Trailing her hand down his chest, she paused to absorb the moment. She found herself doing that a lot these days, collecting what she knew would be some of her last human memories. From what Edward had told her, she would need to be very purposeful in carrying them to her next life. She wanted these specific ones. If he knew how to avoid bringing others, beyond just hoping they would fade away with her change, he hadn't said so. That troubled her more than she wanted it to, and it troubled her now.

"What?" he asked. His hand rested on her back, nudging her a little.

"Nothing. Just spinning my mental wheels a little." She made herself smile.

Dinner involved nothing being burnt, and she enjoyed eating it, sitting across from him as they looked out the window over the sweep of the forest. Jacob had been nowhere in sight today. As she had surmised and Edward had confirmed, Jake had chosen to retreat fully from their lives, electing to stay either in his guest quarters or out and about on the property. Despite any bitterness he was feeling about Bella's illness and impending change, he was honoring his promise to keep them all hidden from the Volturi now that the deadline Edward had been given had come and gone. Soon enough it would be safe to let Alice see that Bella had become one of them, but until then, the plan was for her to have time to acclimate to her new self before they returned to the States. Bella's decision at least eased some of the guilt she felt, having pulled Jacob from his own life. It did not feel good to know that she'd been right about his being unhappy if he came with them, but the day was coming that he'd be free to return home to his family and the pack. That brought her considerable peace.

"Movie?" Edward asked.

"Is there something you really want to watch?" He was normally so considerate of what she wanted, it was hard to tell sometimes what he would prefer.

"Not really."

"Reading?" Her current book wasn't holding much of her interest these days, but pretending to read it while sitting on the couch, curled up in Edward's arms—that appealed a great deal.

Edward was already there, arms open, waiting for her.

One Hundred Years of Solitude wasn't a large book, but it felt heavy in her hand. She was tired, but she was always tired these days. So when she found herself blinking at the words on a page and then blinking awake what she hoped was a short time later, the darkness of the night sky was a surprise.

"Oh." She lifted her head from where it had been resting on Edward's chest and rubbed her face with her hands. "It's not the company, I swear."

Edward chuckled. "I know, and I don't mind. I'm rather partial to when you fall asleep with me—especially when it's on me."

"Well, enjoy it for now, then." It was a lighthearted comment, and most surprisingly, it felt lighthearted. She'd struggled so much in making peace with her choice to be turned that whenever there was the littlest bit of serenity associated with it, she found herself caught off-balance by the feeling.

She rearranged herself on the couch, putting her book down and turning to face him. As if it were choreographed, he slipped his arm around her to support her movements. There was a flare of something she didn't recognize in his eyes when she straddled his knees. Or maybe she did recognize it. Apprehension? No, there was no tension in him that she could sense. She studied his face and his suddenly darker eyes. Desire? Yes. Desire.

His hands felt so soothing as he reached up and cupped the top of her head with them, stroking down over her hair. She was warm from sleep, and they felt pleasantly cool. He repeated the gesture, moving to the back of her skull, cradling her neck and jaw and then resting his fingers briefly on her shoulders as she leaned forward and kissed him.

Oh, yes. She could do this for a very long time. She braced herself against his chest, feeling the heat move from her hands into his chest, liking that it was her body warming his. There were few things she could give him, but she could give him this: a tiny measure of the flame he lit in her.

Of course, she hadn't thought of it this way until recently. Not so long ago, it had felt like her life had been about to be sucked out of her by a man whose body had the same temperature as Edward's.

She let that thought disappear into the ether of her mind, anchoring herself to the present.

Leaning forward, she touched her lips to his.

Whenever they did kiss, Edward was very careful. She understood the lines he meant to keep between what was medical and what was intimate. However, the lines for her were becoming much, much fuzzier. He was simply Edward. He was hers. He was . . . they were meant to be together. His body drew her in and hers, his.

Her kiss had very much drawn him in now, and she sighed as another and then another kiss formed between them. Because they'd already crossed the threshold of possible intimacies with words, Bella's fingers were confident as she unbuttoned the top buttons of Edward's shirt. She'd only glimpsed him in Volterra as he stood partially unclothed in the square. Now, she had the pleasure and leisure of time with which to admire what she knew would be a body made perfect not only by his nature but by her sight.

She broke contact with his lips to bring her own to his chest. The hair there was very fine, and she took her time to appreciate its texture as she kissed one spot and then another.

Edward inhaled slowly, releasing the air in a long cooling breath as she undid the next button. His hands hadn't moved; they felt locked in place at her back.

"Is this okay?" she whispered. Trepidation was never too far away, it seemed. He'd said they could try—

"Very." The word sounded strained. It was followed by a small moan as her other hand settled on his ribs.

More than okay, it seemed. She smiled at him, taking in his closed eyes, the upturned corners of his mouth assuring her of his pleasure.

When she reached the fifth button, he moved his hands again, and she found their positions abruptly reversed. "My turn," he murmured, grinning at her a little wickedly before pressing a wet kiss onto her stomach, sending tremors rippling down her torso.

She slid backwards and sideways into the sofa cushions, Edward's hand coasting under the back of her shirt. The cold shock of his palm made her gasp. He kissed her neck, waking the flesh there with shivers.

When he picked her up, she didn't ask where he was taking her. Their bodies had brushed up against each other enough for her to know how she'd affected him. He'd certainly affected her in a similar manner. It was clear that he was saying yes again.

She barely felt the bed under her. She was too distracted by Edward. His shirt was gone. Hers was halfway up her torso, his nose rubbing back and forth at her stomach, not tickling but raising gooseflesh in the most delightful way.

"Too many clothes," Bella whispered.

"I agree," he mumbled.

Part of her had abstractly worried that when they reached this point of intimacy, there would be no surprises for Edward. He'd seen so much of her as he'd treated her, and he'd seen so much more she was sure when—she veered away from the memory. Her worries about Edward's response evaporated. The reverence with which he treated each inch of bared skin assured her that this was a wholly different experience from what they'd had before.

And while she'd wanted fewer of his clothes in the way of her own discoveries, her heart felt like it took flight when her own shirt disappeared. Vulnerable. I feel vulnerable, she told herself. This is normal. This was her well-ingrained insecurity—and a frisson of fear, too.

But there was nothing but veneration in Edward's small moans and gentle touches, and she worked to let her inhibitions melt out through her fingers. He breathed over her collarbone before pressing a kiss into it, making her quiver. When Edward tugged the blanket up over her, Bella had a brief spasm of resentment towards her body and its inability to produce sufficient heat. She reminded herself that it would be different soon enough.

Edward made no further moves to remove any article of his or her clothing, and their kisses seemed to stretch into an indeterminate period of time, she relaxing into the simple intimacy of each others' half-revealed bodies. The desire for more, though, built steadily, that now-familiar tangling of nerves and want writhing between her hips.

When she began to push at the waistband of his jeans, it was with more nerves than she cared to admit. Edward took over her initial movement and finished it effortlessly, leaving him naked and her partially clothed. She couldn't see him, obscured as they both were by the blanket, but she could feel his legs against hers, how smooth his knees were, the coarse hair on his calves. There was a creeping and nervous blush in her face as she felt another part of him.

Her mind was making associations with all of these sensations, and as she'd been taught to do in therapy, she acknowledged each one and then set it aside, reminding herself, this is now, this is Edward. She could not stop her heart from pounding with anxiety or excitement, though, and Edward pulled back, his face indicating that he was studying hers.

"There is never a point of no return." He brushed his hand over her hair, slowing the movement to cup her cheek. "I love you. Nothing will ever change that."

"I love you too."

They didn't have to keep going, and they didn't have to stop either. They could do what they wanted. She told herself that a few times.

"I want to keep going right now."

"Okay." He kissed her lips gently.

It was harder not to feel the nerves when it was his hand sliding under the waistband of her jeans.

Everything feels so good, she reminded herself. This is now, not then.

Even so, it was a quiet, "Wait, please," that left her lips.

Edward pulled his hand away, kissing her cheek gently and lying down beside her.

She had to fight to keep the "Sorry" from escaping her lips. She swallowed instead. Now. Not then. She turned to face him, reaching for and placing his hand back where it had been.

When the last of her clothing was gone, it was relief that jellied her bones. She hadn't realized just how nervous she'd been that he would be displeased by what he saw, but now she would know, one way or the other.

The blanket had slithered away with their movements, and they were entirely revealed to each other. He hovered half-over her, pausing, raking his intent gaze over her body, his brows pinched together in apparent concentration.

"What?" she asked nervously.

"I'm . . . rather overwhelmed. You're so, so beautiful. I—those are not the right words. I don't have those words."

She exhaled, laughing a little. "I feel the same way."

His eyes were even darker now. She could feel tension almost rippling off him, and she thought again about how anxious he had been about hurting her—how nervous he must be now. Beginning at his chest, she traced the shape of an eight with her fourth finger, switching to her third and then her pointer finger, travelling slowly down in this figure until she reached his waist. When her fingers spread out to brush the fine hair beneath his stomach that created a trail further south, he rolled onto his back, his hands behind his head and his eyes tightly closed. She paused, giving him a moment to acclimate himself.

"That feels amazing, but I can't touch you. I'm—"

"I understand." She didn't want him to invest further in the idea of what he couldn't do. "I trust you."

Without opening his eyes, one of his hands left his head and took her free hand, bringing it to his lips, kissing and then releasing it.

She continued the movement of her other hand, marvelling again at the impossible texture of his body. Everything was silk and velvet. Silk and velvet over stone.

His moan was louder now, but he held himself completely still under her exploring touch. Fingers curling around him as she reached her destination, she began moving her hand slowly up and down, watching his face transform, and his body arch slightly. Although her actions were new to her, his responses indicated she was doing something right. She moved her hand faster, using her other one to tease again at the trail of hair. The outcome of this action was most unexpected: Edward's body jerked, the part in her hand spasming.

He gasped, and she watched his orgasm ripple over him in a series of long, undulating waves, his body trembling with pleasure for some time. When the last of the tremors had ended, he opened his eyes and smiled at her. Then he quickly swiped his discarded shirt over himself before he turned onto his side, cradling her face with his hands and kissing her.

Not human, she reminded herself, as she felt his continued arousal. He didn't need sleep or air or, apparently, rest of any kind.

Her gut clenched with nerves. She wanted this. She wanted him, she reminded herself, but her own body trembled with apprehension.

How badly she wanted to lose herself in how his hands now smoothed over her sides and back, but the small voice in her head tethered her to the past: It'll hurt.

There was no logic to this. She knew because she'd forced herself to think about and research this very question. There was no natural reason for anything to be painful. Edward had never hurt her.

Maybe he'd just been lucky?

Her heart stuttered away as she considered all of these questions afresh.

"Bella?"

"Mm." She was too abstracted for words.

"I want to try something."

The statement didn't even really register, the "Okay" slipping from between her lips before her brain had considered it.

"Tell me if you want me to stop."

He kissed her once more before moving his lips to her jaw, her neck, and then to her chest, pressing kisses at several spots along the way. She felt his cool breath and his mouth on her breasts, first one and then the other, but even before she finished registering how good it felt, he had continued his explorations, stroking her skin and kissing his way down her stomach.

Then she felt his tongue where she'd never imagined feeling it, and all logical thought fled. If his tongue on her skin had been scintillating pleasure before, now it was a burst of exhilarating sensation. Every nerve ending in her body came alive, all of them joining together in an ascending chorus, culminating in an explosion of ecstasy. When she returned to herself, she was panting—feeling as if she was struggling to get enough air. Edward was again nuzzling at her neck, his arms holding her.

"Oh my God." She couldn't think of anything else to say.

Edward chuckled. "So you've said."

Had she? She tried to laugh, too, but it was difficult as she couldn't seem to draw a full breath. She became aware that Edward had laid two fingers gently against the side of her throat for a moment before he rested his head lightly on her chest and began stroking her hair. Ah, she was being monitored. She thought of saying something, gently teasing him about it, but stopped herself. He was clearly making an effort to let her have this experience without the specter of her ill health hanging over them, and she wanted to be just as gracious.

After her breathing returned to its normal rate, Edward lifted his head to ask, "Do you need more rest?"

He wanted to stop? She jerked her head to face him fully. "Do you not want to—?"

"I assure you, my desire is not the limiting factor. Your body, however . . . "

"No, I don't want to stop." She didn't. She was, however, still very, very nervous.

He lifted her so that she straddled him as he sat cross-legged on the bed. "Then I want you to be in control of this," he murmured.

This frightened her even more, and it surprised her to realize it. She'd envisioned his taking the lead, and her thoughts scrambled as their bodies pressed together, a tiny flicker of panic making her breathing come faster.

"You're in complete control," Edward whispered, kissing just beneath her ear. "I'll follow your lead."

It was not what she needed to hear, and she froze momentarily. "I can't . . ."

What couldn't she do? she asked herself.

Edward pulled the blanket up and around her but otherwise remained still, cupping a hand to her cheek.

Demetri had been completely in control and not only when his violence had pushed past the physical boundaries she'd tried to keep. Edward had exerted his own control, too, before but not physically. Now they'd found their way together, and she didn't want to slide back into a lopsided arrangement even if it put her in charge. "I want . . . I don't want to be in control. I want this to be us." She frowned, knowing the words didn't approach what she was trying to convey.

But Edward seemed to grasp her meaning. "I understand." He slipped his hand from her cheek and wove it into her hair, cupping the back of her head. They fell gently back onto the bed, both his hands and hers mirroring each other in their movements.

This. This felt right. This was them.

Still, her body trembled with anticipation even as she let her legs fall open and felt him settle into the V that formed there, and again when she angled her hips to invite the intimacy she wanted. As their bodies merged, she tensed more and more, so that when he finally pushed inside of her, she squeezed her eyes shut in fear.

"It's just me." Edward exhaled, running his nose from her jaw to her hairline. "Breathe for me, Bella."

She did, and he moved further inside her, pausing as she took another breath. She felt his hesitation, and seeing the question in his expression, she quickly shook her head. "I'm okay," she whispered, curling one hand around the back of his neck to keep him from pulling away. "Don't stop."

She had to make herself inventory her body, taking in every sensation, forcing herself to see that nothing hurt, that if anything, it felt good.

The realization was like melting, the tension leaving her body with her small moan, this met by a matching sound from Edward as she arched her back to bring them even closer together. The entwining of their bodies felt only more natural as they continued to move in tandem, their secret rhythm timed with the now steady beat of her heart.

Initially, she strained to recapture the sensation that he had pulled from her before, but she knew it was physically beyond her, and so she let herself simply be, encouraging Edward to continue when he tried to wait for her, watching him instead as he chased and then found his own release.

Afterward, she wanted to linger in the sense of quietude and wonder that surrounded her, but she found herself blinking and then blinking again, drifting off to sleep in Edward's arms as he whispered words of adoration into her ear.

- 0 -

Edward had often told Bella that it was easy to watch her sleep—fascinating even. It was not her sleep that fascinated him now but rather the very recent memory of how they had been together. He had thought all his transformations were done, his frozen body making its final shift when he met her. Yet, here he found himself changed again, wondering if further transformation awaited him upon Bella's own transition to a new and immortal life.

He had been so slow to understand in the beginning that he loved her, but once he had, it had consumed every part of him. And now, his whole body hummed with an unfamiliar energy as if new nerves had grown in place of old ones. The physical change was startling, but the mental one even more so. He'd feared what she'd asked—more than feared, had been terrified that he could harm her. But that wasn't all—he'd been disgusted with himself too. He had wondered how he dared desire her when his body could brutally destroy hers. Now he considered how he'd so easily resisted those desires and how much he wished he'd given in to them so much sooner. Carlisle had been right, as always. Edward could no sooner have harmed Bella, his mate, than he could have torn off his own limbs.

As he drew his gaze over her sleeping form, he felt such love—such peace—not because this self-imposed obstacle was overcome but because their being together had been so right. So very right.

He stood at the threshold of this new existence, anticipating the changed life that Bella would soon have, knowing it would not be without its difficulties but certain now that they could conquer them together.


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