A/N: This was supposed to be out last night but I kept second-guessing myself. HUGE thanks to russianred, who preread this one for me! What were the girls doing while Edward was sulking in Alaska? Well...
Deştepta
Pairing: E/B endgame
Rating: It's about a goddamn succubus, do you have to ask?
Setting: College AU vaguely following the Twilight storyline
All standard disclaimers apply
"So...what exactly does one do at a housewarming party?" Bella jams her hands in her back pockets and glances uncertainly from one perfect vampire face to another as they file through the doorway of her cramped little student apartment. She knows what she did with her wolves when they welcomed her back to campus, but she's betting that's not in the cards tonight as the three female Cullens inspect the limited space. It's a tiny, scruffy one-bedroom on the top floor of a cheap plywood complex housing hundreds of other students, just a step above the dorms in terms of quality, and it's ugly as hell. Bella has never given a shit about any of that. She's not a material girl—this suits her just fine. There's no asshole alpha wolf acting like he owns her, and that's all she cares about. She cares about Sam in her own way, but not when he gets possessive. She tolerates that from no one, not even the alpha.
On the other hand, she's been here two nights now and it's...lonely. Too quiet despite the constant noise from the other apartments around her—pounding music, shouted arguments, video games and laughter and sex and life. She's still welcome in the frat house but she hasn't been back yet—she's giving Sam a little time. He's not happy with her. Most of the other boys have been by, singly or in pairs, but it's not the same as living with the pack surrounding her, the promise of a hot male body or three to curl up with at the end of the night.
"Relax, Bella. There's no wrong way to do this," Alice says.
"Yeah, well, the funny thing is, after people say that I usually do find a wrong way." Bella grins.
"The first thing is that we come bearing gifts, of course." Esme presses her cool cheek to Bella's in greeting and passes an exquisitely wrapped box into her hands.
"You didn't have to." It's not just a token protest—Bella means it. She knows the Cullens are loaded and they can afford to give gifts if they want to, but she doesn't need them. She has money of her own socked away for a rainy day and she's perfectly capable of working if she didn't.
"This is what friends do, Bella." Alice sets another package on the couch. "Say thank you and move on. It's not a handout, it's a gesture of affection. In your terms, think of it like necking, without the…"
"Necking?" Rosalie finishes dryly, placing a smaller package beside Alice's.
"I can do that." Putting it in terms she can understand helps a lot, actually. This whole "having friends" thing is much easier when one of those friends is a far-seeing vampire who seems to speak her language. "So what do regular people do at a housewarming party, then? After saying thank you for presents." She watches Rosalie fold her tall, lovely form gracefully into a chair. Bella sits, too, but she collapses into her seat like a puppet whose strings were cut. Elegance has never been her strong suit.
"You're asking a bunch of vampires what normal people do?" Rose's pretty, pretty mouth curls with amusement. Bella isn't quite sure yet where she stands with this Cullen, but at least Rosalie is here with her mother and sister. She didn't refuse to come.
"You don't need to worry about anyone else's normal. Just your own," Esme says kindly as Alice, without permission, strides into the bedroom to inspect it.
"That is a very, very bad idea considering what I am," she tells Esme flatly. "My normal works with the wolves, but this isn't that kind of party. Even I know that."
"Why did you leave them if you work so well with them?" Rose props her elbow on the wooden arm of the chair and settles her cheek lightly on her fist, watching Bella with inscrutable yellow eyes. Though the entire family sports the same color they look completely different in each unique face. Rosalie's glitter like yellow diamonds, sharp and clear. There's something like the wariness of a wild animal in her, a hawk perhaps, keenly intelligent and perceptive, finely attuned to any hint of danger. Rosalie is beyond beautiful and her level of sophistication is off the charts, but there's a feral undertone to her glance and the shape of her mouth that would make Bella think twice about messing with her, even if she had no idea what this girl was.
"Sam was getting suffocating," she tells her honestly. "He always does eventually. I get it—he's alpha and I know I can be a pain in the ass. But it happened a lot faster than usual this time. I like to think I'm pretty easygoing and I don't have many hangups or issues, but I'm not really good with anyone laying down rules for me. If I wanted a man who thought he owned me, I'd just get married." She makes a disgusted face.
Alice calls from the other room, "I keep telling you, Bella, it's for the best. My god, is this your wardrobe?"
Bella hurls herself to her feet and lurches for the doorway. "What are you doing?"
The bedroom looks like a bomb exploded somewhere around the end of her bed, which is exactly how she left it...with the door tactfully closed until Alice opened it. Her two large suitcases and one duffel bag lie open on the bed and floor, a few things hung in the closet but the rest strewn around the room in piles and clumps. She's not ashamed in the slightest—she's not a housekeeper and never claimed to be. "I have been here two days, Alice, cut me some slack."
"Not that. You think I've never seen a mess before?" Alice picks through the chaos, lifting a pair of wrinkled retro-style jogging shorts in one hand and an electric-blue sports bra in another. "What the hell is this?"
"My clothes. What about them?"
Alice frowns and tosses them to the bed, then shakes out a frothy pink sundress. She looks at the back collar and the inside hem. "There's no tag."
"Because it tore at some point; that's vintage 90s, not the new-retro shit they're coming out with now. Gimme." Bella grabs for it.
"Bella, sweetheart," Alice protests, turning a slow circle at ground zero of the mess, "there is nothing here that isn't a cotton blend or pure synthetic, and I can guarantee all of it was made in either China or Bangladesh."
"What are you saying, exactly?" Bella jumps and snags the tank top hanging from the ceiling fan.
"Here it comes," Rose mutters from the doorway. "I was waiting for it. I'm surprised it took her this long."
"She's learning restraint. I'm very proud of her," Esme answers. Bella has no idea what they're talking about.
"I'm saying the same thing I said to Edward when I met him, and Jasper before that. It all needs to go. Honey, you are so fucking beautiful. You can do better than this."
"Absolutely not." Bella tosses the tank top and sundress onto the pile overflowing from an open suitcase. "Discussion's closed. Next topic—I know vampires don't eat, but do you drink? There's vodka and gin in the freezer. That's how this works, right? I'm the hostess, so I offer refreshments?" She's never really bothered with these sorts of social rituals before; she's not much of a foreplay girl.
"Alcohol has no effect on us, so there's no point," Alice says, "and the discussion has barely begun, so you can't close it yet."
"Watch me."
"Does alcohol have an effect on you?" Rose frowns. "I wouldn't think so."
"Some. I have to drink the high-proof stuff like it's beer to feel anything, and the buzz disappears quickly. Edward works much better." Bella grins over her shoulder at the blonde.
"Wait—doesn't your ID say you're nineteen?" Esme objects.
"Spoken like a true mother," Rosalie approves.
Bella ignores them, turning back to Alice. "Your wardrobe is perfection, Alice. For you. Not for me. I need my clothes to be comfortable and extremely low-maintenance. Your idea of an acceptable wardrobe is neither."
"We're vampires. Things like high heels and underwires don't bother us." Alice waves this off. "Do they really bother you so much?"
Bella holds her hand out and wiggles it back and forth. "So-so. I have a high tolerance for pain, and in a lot of contexts I actually like it. But uncomfortable clothes are just fucking irritating. I'd rather be naked."
"I bet you would," Rosalie snarks. Bella snorts. She can't help it; she likes the cranky Cullen sister.
"I'd ask how you managed to make this mess in only two days, but I've seen Alice do worse in two minutes." Esme's calm remains unbroken as her eyes take in the chaos. "Who helped you move in? Didn't Alice offer? We'd have been more than happy to."
"She did, but Jake and Seth helped. Since I had wolves with me I didn't want to cause any problems." Bella pulls a babydoll dress off the top of her dresser, knocking her makeup bag to the floor in the process and spilling shimmery powder onto the carpet. She ignores it. "The furniture was appropriated from campus storage—extras from the dorms."
"So that's why it looks like it belongs in a thirty-year-old waiting room." Rose glances back at the living area.
"Yep." Bella's utterly unconcerned with all of this. "I'll give it back when I bail. No one was using it anyway." If there was a problem, the wolves wouldn't have helped her appropriate it. She managed to score the couch and two chairs, and a dresser and single dorm bed. She feels incredibly pleased with herself that she didn't have to pay for any of it, or go through the hassle of buying shit secondhand and then selling it again when she moves on. She'd prefer a bigger bed, but since this one was free she's not going to be picky.
Alice picks up a pair of bell-bottom corduroys. "What's the vintage? Original 70s, or the 90s revival?"
"Original."
"These might actually be worth some money."
"Don't care. They're mine, and I wear them." Bella snags them back.
"You know, I thought you and Edward were complete opposites but we may have found a topic where you're in creepy agreement," Alice grumbles. "You both have issues letting go of some things. When you say you need your wardrobe to be low-maintenance, just how low are we talking?"
"You really don't want to know." Bella drops the cords in her open duffel bag despite the dresser right next to her. There's very little in it at the moment. She put away some socks and panties earlier and then got distracted.
"I do want to know," Alice insists. "I need to know just how close to square one we're starting with the whole 'living like an adult' thing."
"I'm an adult!" Bella protests. "I've been an adult since I was born, or whatever."
"I know that, but honey, there seems to be a very good reason why you get along so well with college kids."
"Because they're fun?" Bella leans back against the bare white wall, crossing her arms over her chest, prepared to do delightful battle with Alice Cullen over this. "Because we like the same things? Because a lot of them are pretty open-minded and almost always down to fuck?"
"Yes, all of that. And also because you apparently have similar housekeeping habits. Tell me, where do you stand on dry cleaning?"
"I consider that more of a guideline than a hard-and-fast rule."
"Uh-huh. Ironing?"
"I set my house on fire once in the 50s when I tried. I swore never to touch an iron again." Bella grins broadly.
"Naturally. How often do you do laundry?"
"When I can't find anything clean enough to wear, of course. When do you do laundry?"
"Okay, now define 'clean enough to wear.'"
Okay, that one's a little tougher. "Uh...it's not clean if there are visible stains or dirt, if it's stiff with dried sweat, or too stretched-out to fit right. Other than that, it's good to go."
Alice lets out an exaggerated groan. "I'm not even going to ask how many times you wear something before it falls in one of those categories. We have some work to do, honey."
"Fuck off." Bella laughs as Alice takes her hand, leading her back into the living room. "I don't get smelly like humans do, so I don't need to clean my clothes as often."
"I'm learning very quickly that being a succubus is less about femme fatale fabulousness and more just supreme laziness."
Bella tosses herself onto the couch next to her little pile of gifts. "You say lazy, I say free spirit," she says, not offended at all by Alice's jibe. She knows who she is. "I can work hard when I have to. I've owned a couple of businesses, and that was hard work. But the day to day shit just doesn't matter to me. I don't need to wear makeup and nice clothes every day to get attention, so I usually don't. And I don't like owning a lot of shit I have to worry about and deal with when it's time to move on, so borrowing—"
"Stealing," Rose corrects mildly.
"—borrowing with every intention of returning works just fine. If it doesn't fit in the back of my car, I don't want to keep it."
"It's the same thing we do, more or less," Esme says, settling next to her. "There are more of us, we do like nice things, and our footprint is larger. But we always have to move on, too, eventually. We can't put down roots because of what we are."
Bella's eyes travel swiftly over the quiet vampire before meeting her gaze again. She isn't sure where she stands with Rosalie yet but she knows Esme likes her. She's the kind of sweet, welcoming person who probably likes most people, and there's a soft warmth to her Bella feels drawn to. She's a little unsure about the family dynamic here, whether she should be treating this woman as a peer or a parent, or how one even goes about treating someone like a parent. She never had any. She knows the history of the Cullen clan by now, but that doesn't mean she understands anything about these people or where, if anywhere, she might fit in with them.
"Open your gifts, Bella," Alice says, abandoning the prodding about her wardrobe for now. "They're small enough for you to fit in your car. It's safe, I promise."
Bella smiles as the little vampire sets Esme's box on her lap. She tears off the paper and lifts the white paperboard lid, revealing a lovely set of thick, plush towels much nicer than any she's ever owned. They're a deep, vibrant violet that she knows will absolutely stain the rest of her things if she washes them together. Guess she's going to have to learn to sort laundry, too.
"Thank you," she says, sinking her palm into the lush, deep fibers. Towels that feel like this might be worth the minor annoyance of washing them. If she washes them. Or is she supposed to dry clean them? Having nice things is really complicated. "Mine are from the rec center locker room."
"Yeah, we noticed," Alice says dryly.
Apparently vampires notice everything. Bella makes grabby hands toward the next package and Alice hands it over. "This is from Rose. We actually both wanted to give you mine, but I called dibs so she had to do something else."
"It's fine," Rosalie says, crossing her legs elegantly at the ankles. "As long as one of us gave it to her."
"Now I'm super curious." Bella tears the shiny blue paper from the heavy little box. When she reads the label she squeals. "Goop's pussy candle! You got me Gwyneth's pussy-scented candle!" Dropping the box, she lunges at Rosalie.
"Oh, hell." Rose stiffens as Bella flings her arms around her. "Uh...yeah, I don't really do hugs. And—fuck, that fire of yours is really intense."
Bella pulls away sheepishly. "Sorry, sorry. I'm sorry. I know, boundaries, right? It's just—" She plonks herself on the threadbare brown carpet in the space where a coffee table would be if she had one, scooping up the little box again. "Oh, shit, this is perfect. I take back everything I said about expensive shit. This is the best ever, because it's funny expensive shit!" She pops open the box and sniffs. "This doesn't smell like my pussy, but it actually does smell nice." Another froth of laughter escapes her. "Thank you, Rose."
Rosalie looks very satisfied with herself. "The world does not need genital-scented candles. But since nobody consulted me first, who better to have one than a succubus?"
"Edward isn't going to think it's funny when he sees it," Alice says, snickering.
Bella hugs the little box to her chest. She can't ever remember being happier about a gift. "I don't care. It's my pussy candle, and you can't take it back now."
"We wouldn't dream of it," Alice assures her.
"Gwyneth also sells it as a roll-on," Rosalie says, leaning back in her chair, "but I think that would conflict with your own scent."
"Yeah, I never wear perfume. I can't smell myself, but I've heard enough from other people. I'd be crazy to try to cover that up and the conflicting scents would probably give everyone around me migraines." Bella strokes the plush softness of her new towels and cradles her new candle in her palm. "If this is what a housewarming is like, I should have done it earlier."
"This is what a housewarming with the Cullens is like, dear," Esme says as Alice hands her her last package. "I believe with regular people you'd get a lot of things you'd have no use for."
"And you'd have to feed them, besides," Rose says.
"I feel like I ought to feed you. Maybe we can figure something out." Bella tears the paper from the final gift, which feels like a framed photo, though she has no idea of what. When she flips it over, she finds it's not a photograph at all, but a delicate little framed cross-stitch...of an unknown telephone number. She holds it up with a quirk of her eyebrow. "Did you make this?"
"Yes. It's not a hobby I practice often, but I'm good." Alice beams.
"And the number?"
Alice's narrow, delicate face is all innocence, which tells Bella the answer about to come out of her mouth is anything but. "It's Edward's, of course."
Bella dissolves into shrieks of laughter.
"You didn't," Esme protests, but though she's attempting to sound scandalized there's no heart behind it and the corners of her mouth struggle to remain straight.
"Oh, she did." Rose's slow, devious smile spreads across her lips. "I would have if she didn't. Not the cross-stitch part—I'm not an arts-and-crafts girl—but the number, at least."
"It needed to be festive," Alice insists as Bella howls. Festive it is, the black numbers across the middle decorated by a border of blue and gold flowers.
"I love you so much, Alice," Bella gasps through tears. "I'm gonna call him now." She digs in her back pocket for her phone.
"Not yet. Harass him later, we're in the middle of a party." Alice takes the frame away and eyes the walls. "Where's the best place to hang it? You don't have any tables to set it on."
"Wherever you want. I never get my deposit back anyway." Bella wipes her eyes as she catches her breath. "This is the best. Seriously, I wish I could at least order pizza or something for you." She leans her shoulders against the seat of the couch and lets her head fall back, looking up at Esme upside down. The Cullen mother places her palm on the top of her head for a moment, a fond touch Bella is entirely unprepared for. "What's the vampire equivalent of pizza?"
"You don't want to know, sweetheart."
"I'm not afraid. You're big bad scary monsters, I get it. So am I. You won't hurt me." She speaks with perfect certainty. She's not quite sure how she knows this, but she does. Just as she's not afraid of her wolves, she's not afraid of the Cullens, either. "I'd give you blood if you wanted it. I know I offered it to Edward, and I'm pretty sure I offered it to Carlisle, too. Things were pretty fuzzy, but I think I remember that." She chuckles. "It's no different than what I take from people."
"It is different for us, with humans, anyway," Alice says, abandoning her search for the best place to put the cross-stitch. She kneels next to Bella on the worn carpet. "You cause no harm. We do."
"With humans. Not with me." Bella speaks with perfect confidence.
"I know. But it's still difficult for us to wrap our heads around. We're not used to being around someone who doesn't trigger the thirst like a human does. I know you have blood, and it would probably taste amazing, but you just don't have the appeal of food, if that makes any sense at all."
"Sure," Bella says easily. "Like all that neon-colored candy at the grocery store these days. It looks so pretty and all the fruity smells are so good, but it doesn't really register as food."
"It isn't food, even for humans. Just chemicals and trash," Rosalie says, leaning back a little in her chair.
"That's what I mean exactly," Alice approves. "Not the chemicals part, but what you said about the candy. I'm sure you're delicious, but the beast doesn't recognize you as food."
"Lucky for me, then. I'd rather be candy, anyway." Bella sticks her tongue out flippantly at her bestie, who sticks hers out back. "I do wish I could offer you snacks, though. I know that's what a hostess does, but my conscience won't quite let me pick up a puppy from the shelter for that purpose."
"Considering you're currently fucking a wolf pack, I can see why," Rose says.
Bella laughs. "They're good guys. Clueless, but what boy that age isn't? They're fine."
"Was there any trouble about you leaving the house?" Rosalie's eyes are inscrutable.
Bella shrugs. "None of them were happy about it, but they mostly cheered up when I said I was staying in town, just not in the house. Sam's the only holdout. I'm giving him space."
"What's wrong with the big, bad alpha?"
"I hurt him when I leave," Bella says succinctly. "Not his heart—I don't mean that. He doesn't love me. None of them do. I hurt his pride, his authority. He was born heir to this pack, raised like a little prince, and he's not used to being disobeyed. It shows." She shrugs. "It's fine. He'll get over it; he always does."
"Well." Rosalie's sharp gaze lingers on her, and Bella wonders exactly what that's about. "You tell us if he doesn't. Our coven can handle one mangy mutt."
Except Sam isn't just one—the wolves are a collective, far more than the Cullen clan. They have that weird mind-meld thing going on and even if they didn't, they function as a unit. Bella will not be the cause of a war between the pack and her new friends. For one, she's quite literally a lover, not a fighter. For two, she's afraid the pack would win. Sam has more than double the number of Cullens when you figure in the wolves not living in the frat house, and his pack is trained to fight. Bella has no doubt about even gentle Esme's strength, but she has no idea what sort of training the family may or may not have. No. She refuses to be the catalyst. She doubts Sam will do anything about her leaving—he never has before. And even if he does break from habit, she's not afraid of him. She can handle him on her own.
Once again Bella feels that soft, invisible touch on her skin, like the brush of lush velvet, bright like her fire but with no heat behind it. She's felt it around Edward and Jasper, but this time it has the distinct flavor of Alice. She turns her head and smiles at the little vampire. "I'm sorry. I don't mean to mess with your world so much. I'm not sorry for Edward—he's too fun and I can't regret fucking with him. But I don't mean to cause trouble."
"You're no trouble, sweetheart," Esme says, which is sweet but a bald-ass lie and Bella knows it.
"Yes, she is. Lying about it won't change anything and it's stupid," Rosalie says flatly. "She's got that air about her of someone who breeds chaos. But it's the fun kind, at least so far."
Bella grins. She thinks Rosalie maybe just told her where they stand with one another. The tall blond Cullen may not be all touchy-feely like her mother and sister, but she has her own way of showing tacit approval—like the gift of a ridiculously expensive pussy-scented candle. Bella's never going to light it. She's going to keep it always. Even after it's lost its scent. Even after the world has forgotten Gwyneth and Goop. She wants to keep the memory of this moment, these people, with her for always. They won't stay, but she can have that little light to remember.
"Edward's bringing our cousins back with him to meet you." Alice wads the discarded wrapping paper into a compact ball. "Eleazar is good at intuiting the gifts of other vampires. Edward thinks he may be able to tell us more about you. I wish I could see whether that was true, but I can't. I'm not a fortune teller; I can't force myself to see anything. But we can hope he may have some insight."
Bella frowns. She doesn't need insight from another vampire. "More about me? I already know what I am." She reaches around the side of the couch, where she has a small stack of art books. She's no artist, but art history was one of the odd classes she enjoyed in school. Opening a well-worn volume, she flips to a full-page reproduction of Henry Fuseli's The Nightmare, a painting she's studied at length many, many times. "That," she says sharply, jabbing her forefinger at the demon crouched on the dreaming woman's torso. "That's what I am." The metallic orange nail polish she applied just this morning has already chipped; she ignores it. She'll never be as perfect as a Cullen, and honestly she doesn't really want to be.
"Bella," Esme says, pulling her hand away from the ghoulish painting, "that can't possibly be how you see yourself."
"Of course it can." Rosalie's voice is devoid of any emotion but the driest self-scorn. "How do you see yourself?"
Esme's lips press together and she doesn't answer. She looks unhappy, which makes Bella unhappy. This isn't the way she wants her first housewarming party to go. Never mind that she didn't ask for it—Alice informed her she was having one. She still doesn't want Esme to be sad.
"Calm down." Alice closes the book with a decisive snap. "Eleazar will either be able to help or he won't. There's no point in arguing about it right now. This is a party."
Bella lets her set the book aside. She's still uncomfortable with the sadness in Esme's eyes, and she's not sure how to fix it. Usually she offers her body to soothe hurt feelings, but that's not gonna work here. "Hey, I know I'm fuckawesome. I don't need anyone to tell me that. Being me is great. I bet day to day being a vampire is pretty great, too—you don't have to sleep, you're good at pretty much everything, and you're so pretty that everyone wants to like you. But no matter how nice it is, that doesn't change the darkness for any of us, I don't think. Not for me, anyway." She rubs her upper arm with her opposite hand, a little uncomfortable talking so much. No one ever just sits and listens to her like the Cullens do. "I'm not saying this very well. But—the thing is, I'm not a fairy princess, you know? I'm just not. And I'm good with that. I don't think I'd want to be. The problem is when men get confused because they don't realize the difference. They only see what they want to see."
"We see you, Bella." Alice presses her sharp little shoulder into Bella's for a moment, the pressure reassuring and sweet. "All of you. We don't expect you to be anything but what you are."
Bella smiles. "I know." Only Alice ever says that to her. Her wolves know what she is, but Bella wonders if they actually see the reality any better than humans do. It's certainly never occurred to them to say anything about it. She doesn't know what they are, her bright, sunny wolf-boys, but she's a creature of the dark, like the vampires. She's known it all her life, no matter how bright and hot her fire burns. "I see you, too," she offers. She's never seen them hunt, never witnessed a member of this family when the bloodlust takes control, but she's fully aware of this reality. They're predators. So is she.
"I know you do," Esme says, and the sadness has vanished from her gaze. Bella has no idea how she did that, but she's glad anyway. "You see us, but you're not afraid. I can't express to you how unusual that is, Bella."
"I'm a very unusual person."
"Understatement of the century, Bella," Rose says.
She knows. She definitely knows. And the sentiment in the room is getting a little intense for her—she's not used to it, and it makes her really, really uncomfortable. Rose, too, she can see just from the woman's stiff posture. She exhales a shaky breath. "I really wish I could offer you a drink to loosen—" Her words cut off abruptly. She has an idea. It's insane, yes, but most of her best ideas are. Jumping to her feet, she crosses to the tiny kitchen. It's empty except for the alcohol and a few red solo cups she begged from a neighbor—mostly for washing her jewelry and makeup brushes in, but she hasn't actually done that yet and the plastic cups are clean.
"What are you doing?" Rosalie asks, craning her head to see into the kitchen.
"I wondered when we'd get to this. It's fine, Bella. Scientifically it shouldn't work, but it will," Alice says, beaming.
"What do you know?" Esme asks, her voice brimming with suspicion. Alice simply lifts a hand, telling her to wait a moment.
Bella returns to the living room with the bottle of Bombay Sapphire, a cup, and the utility knife she keeps near the door. She snaps off the old blade and clicks a new one into place, then unscrews the cap from the gin and drinks directly from the bottle.
"You'll want some paper towels or rags," Alice says calmly, bouncing up from her seat. "Do you have a first aid kit?"
"No, but there's some stuff in the bathroom. I don't get hurt much; I'm tough."
Esme still looks lost, but as Bella lifts the bottle to her mouth again she watches the pieces click together in Rosalie's brain.
"No," the leggy vampire says. "That's ridiculous. There's no scientific reason this should work."
"There's no scientific basis for how high she got off Edward's venom, either," Alice says, returning to the living room with a roll of paper towels and a few band-aids. "This is seriously all you have?"
"I've never been infected by anything in my life, so why would I keep things like disinfectant around?" Bella swigs again. Most people would think she was nuts for what she's planning but Alice seems totally fine with it and she's never considered danger to be a deterrent before. Besides, the Cullens aren't dangerous to her. Unlike the touch of a vampire's skin, the cold gin barely processes as sensation on her tongue and in her belly. She can feel the alcohol, though, as it swiftly enters her bloodstream. It's a soft, pleasant warmth, nothing like as intense as it is for humans, and she has to drink more to get the desired result. But the buzz hits her swiftly, and after a few more swallows her head is pleasantly fuzzy and the edges of her vision have become sweet and blurry.
"As much unprotected sex as you have, you've never had an STD?" Rose asks dubiously.
"Nope," Bella says, letting Alice set a sheet of paper towel under her arm as she reaches for the blade. "Do you get parasites from drinking dirty animals?"
"No."
"Same difference."
"Bella, just what are you doing?" Esme asks in alarm.
"Relax, I'm not going near the artery." Bella takes a final swig from the bottle. She can feel the alcohol hot in her blood now. "I'd call this an exper—ish—experiment," she corrects herself as the buzz intensifies, "but Alice already said it will work."
"Bella, honey, I know you want to be a good hostess, but there are limits to hospitality," Esme says uncertainly as Bella lifts her forearm over the plastic cup and positions the sharp little blade.
"She's trying to get you drunk, Esme." Rose snorts. "It shouldn't work, but nothing about that girl makes any sense, so I give up."
" 'zactly," Bella approves, her head starting to spin a little more in a wonderful, whirly way. It's nothing like as good as the high Edward gave her, but she doubts anything in the world will ever replicate that. "I knew I liked you, and not just because you're so pretty."
"I have degrees in electrical engineering and astrophysics, thank you very much. I may be a pretty face, but I'm not just that."
"Me, neither. I'm also a great fuck, and actually a pretty good accountant, too. Or at least I was last I checked." Bella squints. Everything's gone a little swimmy. "Hold your breath if you have to." She presses the blade to the underside of her forearm, well away from the vital artery, just as she promised Esme. Dark blood flows, dripping along her skin and into the plastic cup with a wet, red sound. The masochist inside purrs softly at the very precise burst of white-hot pain, controlled and deliberate. It's much better when someone else hurts her, but the little demon within will take what she can get.
Esme claps a hand over her nose and mouth, but Rose and Alice both scent the air curiously.
"That's...intense," Rosalie says finally. "But you're right. It's bearable."
"I told you you won't hurt me." Bella hears the soft, dreamy quality in her own voice. Pain makes her go still, meek and compliant, willing to trade submission for more of this sensation though she's not at heart a submissive soul.
"Jasper would have hurt you, if he'd been home the other day when Carlisle drew your blood. Please don't get too complacent, Bella. You're walking a fine line here."
She knows, but she's honestly not afraid. She watches with sick fascination as her blood, thick and dark, flows into the cup. When it's a little more than half full, Alice puts a hand on her shoulder.
"That's enough, honey. What kind of party would this be if you pass out?"
"A typical college party," Bella says with a burble of laughter, but she takes her meaning. She presses a wad of paper towel to the cut in her arm, stopping the flow. Her whole arm throbs dully and the shallow wound feels like a tiny tongue of flame, but she feels no worse for the loss of blood. "There. Now you don't even have to bite me."
"I don't know about this, Bella," Esme says.
"I do. It's fine. And I want it on video." Alice digs out her phone. "Rose, you want to go first?"
Rose looks hesitant. She's curious—insanely curious. Something's holding her back, but Bella doesn't know what. "I don't want to fuck up my record," she says.
"What record?"
"Rose has a perfect record." Alice wets a square of paper towel at the sink and hands it to Bella. "It's really rare."
"You've never killed anyone? I'm super impressed. I didn't know that was possible." Bella wipes at the drying blood on her arm.
"Who said that? Alice didn't say that. I've killed. Very deliberately." Rose's sharp yellow gaze turns colder with the memory. "I just didn't drink."
"Why not? You just let that food go to waste? Isn't that like a game hunter who just takes the head and lets the meat rot?"
Rose stares at her with that imposing, icy beauty. Finally, after a long moment, she snorts. "That's your problem, Jeze-Bella? I tell you flat-out that I've murdered people and you're only upset that I didn't eat them after?"
Bella laughs. The booze is still swimming through her veins, and she's feeling great. "Nobody's ever called me that before. I love it, it's my new nickname. And basically, yeah. You're good people, Rosie."
"Don't call me that."
"Weird, but good," Bella presses on, ignoring the interruption. "I figure if you killed someone, he was the fuckiest fuckwad and he deserved it." She shrugs. "Drink?" she asks brightly, holding out the cup with her free hand.
"This is not how housewarming parties generally go," Esme says quietly.
"No?" Bella frowns blurrily at her as Rosalie takes the cup. "You give me presents and I give you drinks, isn't that how it works?"
"Yes, but—"
"Good, then I'm finally doing something normal." Bella beams happily.
"I love that this is your concept of normal, Bella," Alice says.
"This is so far beyond the scope of normal." Rose eyes Bella. "But you're not human, and you bled willingly. I think even Carlisle would say I can keep my perfect record." She lifts the cup and smells it hesitantly. "I can smell the booze in your blood, even over that spice of yours."
Bella holds up the gin bottle proudly. It's over half empty. "I'm going to be pissing all night, but it's worth it."
"I say she doesn't actually have a perfect record anyway," Alice says as Rose sips uncertainly. "She has killed."
Rosalie swallows. "Fuck, that's...intense." Her throat works convulsively. Esme's hands tighten with anxiety on the arms of her chair, but while Rose's yellow eyes darken she doesn't show any signs of struggling against her bloodlust. She doesn't launch herself at Bella, and the expression on her lovely face is confused, not painful. "I can taste you," she says with surprise. "And the shitload of alcohol you just drank. Food just tastes like ash to us—this doesn't make any sense."
"Told you it would work," Alice says smugly as she peels two band-aids out of their wrappers and helps Bella position them over her cut. "Esme's right that this may be a little overkill on the hospitality front, honey, but it's going to be fun."
"That's all I care about." Bella reaches for the bottle again, but Esme judiciously pulls it out of her grasp.
"No more tonight. I want you sober before we leave."
"Yes, mom," Bella whines playfully. "What does killing have to do with Rose's perfect record, if she didn't drink?"
"It doesn't," Rose says, taking a bigger drink before passing the cup to Alice. "Carlisle's tasted, and if you ask me he shouldn't have his perfect record since he technically killed me and Edward and Emmett and Esme."
"You were dying anyway!" Alice protests before drinking.
"This is a very, very old argument," Esme says as the bickering begins. "I usually cut it off when they start tossing philosophy terms in Latin at each other. Or cursing too much for me to handle."
Bella loves it. She steals the bottle back, but Esme is quicker and recaptures it before she can drink. Bella reaches for Alice's phone instead, recording the family bickering as the sisters trade the cup and verbal barbs.
"Whoa," Alice says after a few moments. She slaps a palm flat on the floor in front of her and her perfect posture bobbles for a long second. "I think...I might be drunk."
"You are." Bella howls with laughter.
"Is this really what it feels like?" Alice flaps a hand in front of her face. "I can't remember anything about my human life. I don't know if I've ever done this before."
Rosalie joins Bella's laughter and the pitch of her giggles from a woman who does not giggle tells Bella all she needs to know about her state, too.
"Esme?" Bella steals the cup from Rose and offers it. "There's still at least a shot left."
"No, thank you, sweetheart. One of us has to be safe to drive home, and I'm not climbing into a vehicle with either of them tonight. We may be unbreakable, but the Mercedes is not." She squeezes her hand as Alice steals the cup back. "Besides, this is quite amusing. Keep the camera going, I want plenty of blackmail material in case they don't remember."
Bella grins. She can do that. The promised Latin terminology war has begun and between that and the gin she can't follow the conversation, but it's funny as hell anyway to watch the imposing blonde and tiny little fairy bicker drunkenly as only siblings can possibly do. "This is better than the Real Housewives, even if no one is throwing anything."
"Careful what you say. Rose has definitely been known to start throwing things."
"There's nothing here to throw." Bella finally snags the gin bottle back and manages a drink. "Ever been drunk when you were human and could?"
"Honestly?" Esme's eyes turn speculative. "We don't remember our human lives, not really. Not with any solidity, though none of us are as blank as Alice. But I doubt it. We'd drink wine with dinner, but any more than that wasn't appropriate for a well brought up young lady."
Bella, still seated on the floor, leans her head back against the seat of the couch. "I'm not much younger than you."
"Yes, you are. I was born in 1895. You were born in what? 1930?"
"Thirty-one, I think. Memories of those first few years are really chaotic. I remember them, but because I had no context for anything, it's all just a big mess. Like my room." She giggles, little bubbles of happy drunken laughter escaping her.
"I would have been thirty-five. Old enough to be your mother truly. And I'd been a vampire for ten years by that point."
"Mm." Bella's arm is getting tired. She switches Alice's phone to the other hand. "My point was—" Her words cut off abruptly as her train of thought fails her. "I don't remember. Shit. I'm sorry." With a sigh she relinquishes the bottle. "Time to stop?"
"Time to stop for tonight," Esme agrees. She looks amused. Bella pouts a little, but she's determined to enjoy the effects of the gin while they last. The buzz fades really quickly for her, which is one reason she doesn't bother drinking very often. It's not usually worth the hassle of having to pee all night, but being able to share the drunk with her vampy besties makes it worth every trip to the toilet.
Suddenly the phone in her hand vibrates. Pausing the recording, Bella squints at the screen. It's a text from Edward. She's never been good at boundaries, as she's told Rose and Alice repeatedly, and she jabs at the screen without a trace of guilt.
- Who was the vampire Bella ran into before?
Bella doesn't feel bad at all about peeking at that message. Not if it's about her. She glances at Esme, who's watching her. "Can I?"
They both look toward Alice and Rose again. Rosalie is still in her chair, Alice still on the floor at her feet, trading jabs half in garbled English and half in Latin probably just as garbled, far too fast for Bella to catch more than a word or two. They're both gesturing wildly, cheeks red, Alice listing precariously to the left.
"Go ahead," Esme says, sounding amused. "They're having too much fun; I don't have the heart to stop them."
Given permission by the boss, Bella answers the text without bothering Alice.
- What's this? No hello? No message that you made it north safely?
Esme leans over her shoulder, chuckling as Bella hits send. "That's exactly what Alice would say."
"I know. She's the best."
"She is. And she thinks the same of you."
"I am pretty awesome." She glances at the sisters again. The argument has ceased, replaced by tipsy giggles.
"Why didn't we ever do this before?" Alice rests her cheek on Rosalie's knee.
Rosalie shoves her off. "Because we didn't have a weird little succubus around to metabolize the gin before, genius. Don't touch me. I'll take Bella's hugs over yours any day."
"You looove me," Alice sing-songs. "Admit it. You secretly wanted a sister."
"She didn't at all," Esme murmurs in Bella's ear. "But we'll let it slide."
The phone vibrates in Bella's hand again. Vampire hearing is excellent, she's learned, so Alice and Rosalie must be pretty buzzed not to notice.
- Quit it. That girl said she met a vampire before. Who was it?
Oooh, he's grumpy. Bella grins. It's horrible of her, but she likes him a little riled up. It sharpens the edge of danger she senses in him. She knows she's playing with razors when she fucks with him, and she can't help it. She's the kind who would absolutely fly a kite in a storm just to see what would happen.
- "That girl" has a name, as you know perfectly well, Edward Cullen.
His response is almost immediate, and she can feel the irritation dripping from the typed words.
- Who was it, Alice?
She giggles softly. Of course he has no idea who's texting him, or why it would be anyone but his sister. And she's delighted to play this game. Maybe she'd be a little nicer to him if he hadn't curled his lip at her in disgust when they first met, despite the badly-concealed desire rolling off of him. And if he hadn't insulted her in the woods even with his face buried between her legs. Is payback still payback if he has no idea it's happening?
- As it happens, I don't know. You should ask her. Talk to her, Edward.
She doubts he'll take "Alice's" advice, but it's worth a shot.
The response again pings back immediately. It's one word: No.
"He's upset right now," Esme says softly at her shoulder. "Try not to take it personally. He doesn't deal well with change, and you represent a lot of it."
"Oh, I never take anything personally." Her presence pulls at the deepest parts of people, things they like to pretend they don't feel, or can hide from themselves and the rest of the world. If she took all of their responses personally, she'd never survive. Most people want her, but there have always been the rare few who react negatively to the things she makes them feel. And others, like the vampire Edward wants to know about, who run away. They're usually running from themselves, really, rather than her—except that vampire. No, he really was running from her.
- She's moving out of the frat house. Did you know?
Before Edward can answer, the phone is yanked from Bella's grip. Alice and Rosalie have finally decided to pay attention to the rest of the room, apparently, and Alice skims quickly through the conversation. She laughs. "You devil. That's so mean. You sound just like me—he'll never know the difference."
"Then what's so mean about it?" Bella sighs as she feels her buzz begin to fade. It was nice while it lasted. Not nearly as good as the high she got from Edward, but she doesn't know whether he'll ever be willing to repeat that performance.
"This cup is empty," Rosalie announces grumpily, tossing the plastic cup toward the trash. Apparently she feels the same way Bella does.
"Careful," Esme warns. "If you get blood on the carpet, Bella won't get her security deposit back."
Alice taps out a swift message to her brother, ignoring the conversation around her.
"I never do anyway, I told you." Bella stretches her legs out in front of her, toward Rose. "How do you feel?"
"Tipsy." Rosalie lets her head roll to the side. "I seriously can't believe it. If I get a hangover I'm going to kill you."
"Just don't take my pretty towels or my pussy candle." Bella strokes her towels lovingly.
"I told Edward to try being a little nicer to you," Alice says, glancing up from her phone.
Bella waves this away. Edward will do what he wants to do and nothing his sister says will change that. She knows enough about hard-headed men like him. She can break his stubborn streak, it's only a question of how much time and effort it will take. And she's going to enjoy every second.
"He's serious about that vampire, though. He's worried about something." Alice squints blearily at the screen. "Wish I knew what."
"I think everyone else is home," Esme says. "Bella, could you describe the vampire you met?"
"Sure, yeah. I don't know if my memory is as good as yours, but it's pretty sharp. I can picture him so well I could draw him for you. I mean, if I could draw. Which I can't." She grins sheepishly.
"That's all right, dear. We can call the house and see if your description rings a bell for anyone. Carlisle has been around the longest, but Jasper spent a very long time among others of our kind, too."
"Was he ever in Europe? I met the guy on the Continent. I think it was in France, but it could have been Belgium. Rural, anyway."
Esme glances at Alice, who shakes her head. "No, Jasper had never been outside North America until he started traveling with me. But Carlisle spent most of his life in the Old World." She giggles. "Literally."
"We'll call him," Esme says, pulling out her own phone.
"I'd rather talk to Edward. I have his number now." Bella pets the frame of her cross-stitch.
"Not with that much gin still in your system," Esme says firmly.
"It's not in my system anymore, I'm pretty sure it's all in my bladder now," she whines.
"So go to the bathroom while Esme explains to Carlisle." Rosalie nudges her with the toe of her boot.
"Don't wanna break the seal." Bella stays firmly where she is.
Rose and Alice exchange a blank look; Bella snickers. "You vamps are clueless. Lucky." She pulls one of her new towels out of the box to snuggle with. It's gigantic, big and thick as a blanket. She cuddles it to her chest.
"Go to the bathroom, Bella." Alice hauls at her arm. "Then you can describe that vampire to Carlisle and see what he says. After that we should all be sobered up enough to fix the awful mess you made of your fingernails."
"Okay," Bella agrees, "but I still would rather talk to Edward."
"We'll call him after Carlisle. Just don't let on about the drinking yet—Rose has this weird bond with Carlisle over the perfect-record thing."
"My record is intact!" Rose insists, and Bella can sense the imminent beginning of another argument.
"Daddy's girl. I see," she says, heading them off before they get going again. "That's actually kind of sweet. I wouldn't have expected it of you, Rose."
"Shut up," Rosalie says, exactly as Bella knew she would. She may be clueless about a lot of social etiquette, but she can read people like a conman. "I have incredible respect for Carlisle, and I happen to share his ethics. That's all."
That's all Rosalie Hale may admit to, but her automatic, prickly defensiveness speaks louder than her words. She has a lot of affection for the man she considers her father, though she absolutely refuses to admit it. It's fine. Bella's happy to let her pretend she's keeping this secret. That tough girl isn't quite as tough as she likes to pretend, but Bella knows better than to tell her so.
This is a very, very weird family, full of idiosyncrasies and dysfunctions Bella is only beginning to learn, but she finds that the more she discovers the more she likes them. They may not be human but there's a core humanity to them that feels very real and oddly warm despite their cold bodies and reclusive natures.
"Alice—" she begins, but her voice cuts short because she has no real idea what she wants to say. Maybe there aren't actually words for it, or maybe, because she never had a family, she never learned them. Either way, she feels suddenly like a defective piece of tech, an imperfect wire causing her mouth to short-circuit. The words just won't come.
Alice turns, looking straight into her eyes. It's always a jolt when the Cullens do that, but she feels it even more in this moment.
Especially since the eyes staring back at her aren't gold anymore.
"You're still a little tipsy, aren't you?" Alice says, completely misinterpreting her silence.
"A little, maybe." Bella snickers. Gone is her momentary distress, wistfulness for something she cannot name because she's never had it and doesn't know what it is. This is far more interesting. She raises a hand to touch her thumb just under Alice's left eye. Her skin is smooth, and gives the pad of Bella's thumb that sparkling feeling she now knows is cold, a sensation she's never felt before. Cold weather doesn't register to her senses, but the touch of a vampire's skin does. "Shit, I really have to pee, but you need to go look in the mirror first."
"What's going on?" Rosalie demands.
Bella just laughs. Hell, that's really uncomfortable with a full bladder, and not the good kind of uncomfortable, either.
Alice bolts for the bathroom.
"Go pee before you do piss yourself." Rose pushes at her with impatience as Bella leans close to peer into her eyes. "Succubus or not, that's disgusting."
Bella's little bubbles of laughter intensify. "Proves you don't know anything about the internet. Plenty of people would pay good money to watch me do that."
"I wouldn't."
"Rose, get in here!" Alice squeals from the tiny bathroom. "Oh, this is better than colored contacts! I love it!"
Rosalie rises from her chair, closing her long fingers around Bella's wrist and hauling her behind as she follows Alice's direction. "What's going on?"
"Look!" Alice points to the mirror. "Edward had just a tiny taste of her and got a little ring of green. Look at me!"
"Oh, shit," Rose curses, putting her nose to the mirror and staring at her own reflection. The irises of both sisters now shine a poison-bright green, like the stuff of Disney nightmares. It's not a normal human color, but then, neither is the yellow.
"It's so pretty," Alice coos, admiring herself. She looks amazing even under the harsh vanity bulbs, but that color stands out against her ice-pale skin and black hair like a witch's potion.
"I hope everyone will just assume they're colored contacts," Rosalie says uncertainly as she examines herself.
"What else would they assume? Humans are pretty good at deluding themselves that the supernatural doesn't exist."
"How long is this going to last?" Rosalie straightens, still studying her reflection. The green actually looks fantastic on her, but Bella can't tell if she likes it.
"How long does the red last when Emmett or Jasper slip up? I'd guess the same."
"I'm glad you like it, but I seriously need to pee now." Bella pushes them toward the door. They go, letting her shut it behind them, but she can hear their conversation perfectly through the barrier.
"That means we're still going to look like this when Edward gets back." Alice laughs, and this time Rosalie joins in with her dark, dry chuckle.
"He's going to lose his shit."
"He really is."
"It's actually very pretty," Esme says. "Come sit; we still need to call Carlisle."
"Of course it's pretty. That's not the point. The point is that Edward got that little ring of green in his eyes after doing what he did with her in the woods. He's going to know the color came from her when he sees us."
Bella opens the door, her hands still damp after washing and hastily drying them. "He's gonna flip the fuck out," she says, feeling incredibly smug. Let him wonder what his sisters did to get that color. Let him squirm. He deserves to squirm a little. She'll tell him there was literally no physical contact...eventually.
"You all are terrible," Esme says, but she doesn't even bother to hide her own smile as she pulls up Carlisle's number on her phone.