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
"...please note that swimsuit regulations and requirements for both men and women are very clearly spelled out in the syllabus. Men, swim trunks are required in this class; Speedo-style swimwear is not permitted. You are not on the swim team and speed is not an issue for this fundamentals course. You may or may not wear a rashguard, that choice I leave to you. Ladies, two-piece swimsuits are likewise not permitted. My rule of thumb for choosing a swimsuit for class is as follows. It should be made to be moved in, not to be seen in. If I have to speak to anyone more than once about improper swimwear, you'll be wearing the moldiest suits out of lost-and-found for the remainder of the term."
"Oh, come on, I signed up for this class for the bikinis!" a boy on the metal bleachers behind Bella groans. She rolls her eyes exaggeratedly toward Alice Cullen, who rolls hers right back and makes a wanking gesture with her perfectly dainty, perfectly manicured hand.
Yeah, Alice is her new bestie.
Bella recognized Alice immediately as the class gathered on the wet metal bleachers next to the indoor pool, despite never having set eyes on the girl before. She has the same unnatural pale skin and catlike yellow eyes as her brother, though otherwise they look nothing alike. More than that, though, Alice just...looks exactly like she texts, as ridiculous as that sounds. On the surface she's the epitome of cosmopolitan and polished—at the cutting edge of fashion. But there's so much more bubbling underneath that sophisticated shell, more than Bella suspects she'll ever know. Standing next to Alice feels like standing next to a live wire, but in the best possible way. She's a raw spark of energy just barely contained. So is Edward, come to that, but with an entirely different flavor.
Their eyes met instantly over the milling students before the coach called them to order. Alice grinned like a cat with a canary when she saw Bella, and that was that. Bella now has a best friend.
It's fabulous. Also fucking strange. Most women are wary of her and keep their distance, either from jealousy or fear. She's had friends before, sure, but none who know what she truly is. Only the wolves know that, and the only female wolf hates her guts, which sort of precludes any hope of friendship there.
But not Alice Cullen. Alice strode up to Bella's side, impervious to the slippery tile floor despite the sky-high heels of her boots, and linked their arms while still smiling that knowing little smirk. "Bella."
"Alice."
Bella decides firmly that Sam can go to hell if he tries to keep her from the Cullens now. Edward is fascinating and Alice is a riot. They're the most interesting thing to happen to her in decades—maybe in her whole fucking life. She's not giving up the chance to get to know them better just because her cranky-ass alpha wolf doesn't like them. He can either deal with it or kick her out of the house. She doesn't belong to him, and she can feed elsewhere if she has to. She survived just fine before she met her wolves, and she'll survive just fine without them.
Now she sits side by side with Alice as their aging male swim coach drones on about pool safety. Bella tunes him out. Alice is interesting, pool safety is not. She's a tiny little thing, smaller even than Bella herself, and sharply beautiful, with a narrow, angular face immaculately made-up and short hair she wears artfully spiked. She's wearing a sleek black leather jacket to match those tall boots, and every inch of her screams both money and poise. That family must be loaded. Bella guesses she shouldn't be surprised. What, after all, did she expect? A bunch of vampires delivering pizzas and stocking groceries to make ends meet? If they aren't holed up in some exquisitely decrepit old castle somewhere, then by all means, let the vampires wear Gucci. It makes as much sense as anything else.
The heavy chemical smell of the pool masks Alice's natural scent, which irritates Bella. She wants to know if this one smells as good as her brother. As much as she teased Edward for pissing off her inner demon by trying—poorly—to pretend she doesn't affect him, she can't deny how pretty he is, or how amazing he smelled. He was all sharp and wintry, with the hint of danger underneath that told her firmly this was no human to toy with. No, she's playing with razor blades when she provokes him, and she knows it. That's half the fun. The other half is his perplexing reaction to her, the push and pull she's so unused to. He's a challenge, and no man ever challenges her. They want to dominate her, yes, but they do not push her away. They don't run from her as Edward did. This is something she does not understand at all, and she's not letting Edward be until she gets some satisfactory answers.
"I have so much I want to ask you," she says softly, leaning toward Alice to be heard over the droning echo of their instructor's voice in the cavernous room. An advanced class is using the diving well, and the shout of their coach and splashes of the bodies hitting the water reverberates through the humid air. She and Alice texted at length last night but they danced around the serious questions, never doing more than chatting. Some secrets don't belong in text messages.
"Likewise." Alice nudges her shoulder. The gesture is so simple and friendly that Bella isn't sure how to respond. She's rarely met anyone, male or female, who wants nothing more from her than companionship. Part of her doesn't know how to process this, but Alice is so goddamn sincere that she can't doubt her.
Broad sheets of glass panel two walls of the room, flooding the space with angry overcast light as the last of the summer's heat battles the first autumn clouds, a storm threatening to break though for now the ground remains dry. "I'm an open book," she tells Alice, and for once she thinks she might actually mean it. Alice has secrets, too. Doesn't that mean she can be trusted? Bella thinks so, no matter what Sam says. Yeah, there's still the looming question of how these vampires, you know, eat. But Bella considers that ultimately a very minor hangup in the grand scheme of things. After all, she feeds off of humans, too, if not in quite the same way.
She feels the weight of Alice's gaze upon her now, those bright yellow eyes so similar to Edward's and yet the flavor of her glance utterly distinct. There's keen interest in Alice, which unlike her brother she does not try to hide, but no scent of desire. Bella is attuned to that savor like a shark to blood and though Edward couldn't conceal his attraction to her, that nuance is completely absent from his sister. It's...incredibly refreshing, actually, and oddly freeing. There's a weight of pressure and expectation suddenly lifted from Bella's shoulders, a weight she didn't realize she was carrying. At the same time, she feels a little adrift, because she has no real conception of what Alice wants from her, if not sex.
"An open book?" Alice considers her, and Bella feels a strange sensation skitter down her spine, as if something akin to her own fire were pressing gently at her skin, testing her. It's not painful, or even particularly intrusive, and it's gone in a heartbeat. "You're right," Alice agrees cheerfully. "But written in a language I think most people don't understand. I'm sorry. That must be lonely."
Bella is never tongue-tied, but she finds herself unable to answer Alice. She quirks an eyebrow at her new friend, not really believing she's any more lonely than a vampire. People flock to her, after all, and the same is not true for Edward or Alice. The little Cullen girl gets plenty of admiring glances but the humans keep their distance just as they do with Edward. Their bodies sense the danger, even if their brains don't recognize it. Some innate self-preservation instinct keeps them at a distance.
Not Bella. She's never once felt that instinct, and she doesn't believe the Cullens are a danger to her anyway. She sits hip-to-hip with her new friend, aware of the furtive, longing glances of the rest of the class as the two hot girls pair up, Alice's undercurrent of danger marking them both now as off-limits. To Bella, this is hilarious. Alice is even smaller than she is, but she's able to shut the entire class down without even a glance their way.
"Ladies, when it's, uh, that time of the month, you may opt not to dress down and swim, but you still have to come to class," the coach says, his face reddening with embarrassment. "You can sit on the bleachers and study—you don't need to tell me why." His skin colors further, the red traveling down his saggy, bristly neck.
"Great, so now I have to pretend to bleed, too?" Bella mutters under her breath, slouching further down on the uncomfortable-as-fuck metal bleachers.
"Doubtful," Alice whispers back. "He's not the noticing type. He won't pay attention to who's sitting out when."
"I could try sitting out every week and see if he notices."
Alice snorts. "You attract enough attention without testing people."
"Tell me about it." Bella can feel the eyes of their fellow classmates on her, but this is her normal. She'd start to worry if people suddenly ignored her. She has no conception of what that feels like. Neither does Alice, she's positive. Those eyes aren't just for her, but for both of them. "You know how it is."
"I do. But it's not the same," Alice whispers.
No, it isn't. People hang back from Alice. Whether that makes Alice's life easier or harder Bella can't say, because she's never experienced it before.
"And anyway," Alice continues, "my sister Rose takes some of the pressure off when she's around. You'll see why when you meet her."
Bella's eyes flick from the top of Alice's perfectly-coiffed head to the pointed toes of her designer boots. "You love the attention. Don't lie to me. You wouldn't dress like that if you didn't." She grins knowingly. Alice dresses to look good.
Alice grins right back. "Maybe a little," she concedes.
Bella has a feeling it may be more than a little, but she keeps her mouth shut. There's only so much whispering they can do on the packed bleachers, and accusing a brand-new friend of a tiny exhibitionist streak may not be the best choice in this location.
"Why did you pick swimming, anyway?" Alice flicks a bit of nonexistent lint from her tight dark-wash jeans. "I didn't peg you for the type."
"I'm not. I'm a late arrival; I was scrambling to find any open classes at all." Bella wrinkles her nose and slouches down even further, feeling more than seeing Alice's raised eyebrow. Of course the little vampire herself has perfect posture. "I should have just told Sam to shove it when he suggested I take classes."
Alice laughs under her breath. "It won't be that bad. Plus, it worked out well. Now you have the perfect cover. Your boys will never smell a thing over all the chlorine."
"And my hair will never be the same," Bella grumbles.
"Oh, I can help you with that. Don't you worry about a thing," Alice assures her.
Bella eyes her new friend. "You only say that because yours is so short. You have no idea how hard yanking a comb through eighteen inches of chlorinated hair is."
Alice's yellow eyes glow with danger, the first true hint Bella's seen of what she really is. Tiny but fierce, a little pocket knife of a person, she leans forward until their faces almost touch. "If you ever mention yanking a comb through those gorgeous locks again, you'll find out just how dangerous a Cullen can be."
Bella swallows nervously. Edward tried to scare her away and failed miserably—it was actually kind of adorable how he glowered and snarled at her. His itty-bitty sister? Yeah, she's another story. This is the scary Cullen, Bella decides swiftly.
The coach releases them after droning for half an hour, with a final warning that they can purchase appropriate swimwear in the rec center if they can't manage to find it elsewhere. Bella stifles a groan. "I swear I'm showing up on Thursday in the sluttiest bikini I can find, just because he keeps griping about it."
"You'd dare get kicked out and leave me to suffer through swim class alone?" Alice pretends to be offended, crossing her arms over her chest and glaring again, though this one lacks the menacing edge of her last glower.
"I bet I could find something that technically meets the guidelines but pisses him the fuck off anyway." She's tempted, really tempted. That tiny exhibitionist streak she suspects Alice Cullen is hiding? Yeah, Bella's is neither tiny nor hidden. Plus, she has a stubborn streak that likes to piss off authority figures just for the hell of it. "A one-piece covered in metal bondage rings or something like that. Or something that's technically a one-piece but full of so many cutouts he'll wish he just shut the fuck up about bikinis." She snickers.
Alice cackles loudly as she shoves the door open and they walk out of the giant metal and concrete rec center into the oppressive humidity that promises a thunderstorm soon. Bella flinches, the hair on her arms and the back of her neck rising as the tension in the air climbs. She rubs her bare arms, aware of Alice's eyes following her movements but unwilling to explain herself just yet. Thunderstorms bother her. They always have. And when she's bothered things...happen. But the storm isn't here yet, and she's not the type to hide herself away as if she's ashamed. She does glance around the open grassy area and brick pathways full of students, wary of any of her boys catching her walking with a Cullen. She's technically breaking Sam's rules right now, and while she's not afraid of him, she doesn't particularly want to endure the explosion that will follow if he finds out.
"You'd do it, too," Alice laughs. "I can just see you walking into swim class in full-on bondage gear and arguing with the coach that you're technically complying with his dress code."
"I'd do it in a heartbeat," Bella agrees, feeling the perverse impulse to actually do it just to see what would happen. It's a common urge for her, and often leads to very interesting results, if not always happy ones. "He'd probably kick me out, but I don't care about credits. I'm here for shits and giggles, I guess, as insane as that sounds."
"Not as insane as you might think." Alice shoots her an ironic glance and Bella snorts. No, a succubus living with a bunch of frat boys is not quite as insane as a family of vampires legitimately trying to earn degrees. Alice's arm links through hers, the rich leather of her sleeve warm against Bella's bare skin. "Come on, my car's in the south lot."
"You drove?" Most students live close enough to walk or bike, or take the bus when the weather turns. The old joke on campus is that it's harder to get a parking permit than it is to get tenure.
"We live out of town. Makes things easier." Alice guides her toward the lot with gentle pressure on her arm.
"I'm even more curious now." Bella continues to glance around them as they walk, but her boys tend to stand out in crowds and she spies none of them in the clusters of students lounging on the grass or leaving the bookstore with weighty piles of textbooks.
"We attract attention, so living outside of town is best. Plus, we're closer to the woods."
Bella eyes Alice up and down. "You don't strike me as the outdoorsy type."
The little vampire's sweet laugh sounds like the trill of a bird. She'd be a fucking Disney princess if she wasn't, you know, a deadly predator. "You'd be surprised, Bella."
"I guess I would. A lot of things about you surprise me. I mean, you're here in the daytime and you're not melting or exploding or whatever it is you're supposed to do."
"Melting is for witches, Jezebel. Get your references straight."
"That's succubus, not Jezebel. Get your references straight," Bella snarks back, delighted with her new best friend. They reach the parking lot and Alice guides her toward a very shiny, very ostentatious Porsche. "So much for keeping a low profile."
Alice clicks the key fob. "Get in, loudmouth. Esme's dying to meet you. She's going to love you."
"Your mom, right?" Bella slides into the car and tosses her backpack at her feet. She takes Alice's bag as her friend settles behind the wheel. "Honey, no mother loves me." She's not clear yet on how this family works, but not even a vampire mother will want a succubus hanging around her children.
Alice revs the engine loudly and they pull sharply out of the lot and onto the street. "Esme will," she says with certainty.
"Uh-huh." Bella does not believe this for a moment, but she lets it slide. It's not worth possibly starting an argument over. "Explain about the sunlight."
Alice's shoulder shrugs easily. She drives much better than Bella does, but speeds even worse, the tiny car hurtling along the quiet streets toward the edge of town. "Daylight doesn't do anything to us. Direct sunlight is a little different—it doesn't hurt, but we look different and it attracts too much attention. You'll see at some point, but not today." She glances through the windshield at the clouds.
"So what do you do during the summer?"
"Keep away from humans," Alice says with a little grin.
"That must suck." Bella can't imagine being holed up anywhere with just a few other people, unable to mix freely with the rest of the world. She needs people too badly for that to ever sound appealing.
"It's just part of life for us," Alice says peaceably. She turns the wheel and the car whips around a corner, turning down a freshly-paved driveway almost hidden among the trees. The forest engulfs them, dark and close, reluctant overcast light filtering through the canopy.
"I've been trying to get a straight answer out of Sam about you," Bella confesses, searching through the windows for a glimpse of the house. The driveway is long and meandering, and she can't see anything except trees. Over the engine she begins to hear the sound of rushing water: a river. "He's basically the poster boy for mixed signals right now."
Alice's expressive mouth quirks as they pull smoothly up to a fucking weird—and gorgeous—house. It's boxy and angular, sleek and modern, big without quite reaching mansion status. Bella immediately loves it, but the modernist wood-and-glass monstrosity is absolutely not what she envisioned a family of vampires living in. For one thing, there are way too many huge windows. Of course, if sunlight doesn't bother them, Bella guesses that doesn't matter. She stares for a moment as Alice gathers her things. "I can sympathize with Sam to an extent," the little vampire says. "He doesn't want us here. I don't know how much you know, but his kind aren't friendly with ours and for the most part that's understandable. But we—my family, I mean—we're not dangerous. Especially not to you, Bella. We wouldn't be here if we were."
"I didn't think you were," Bella says with perfect honesty. She's not really good at reading or heeding danger signals from others—in fact, those signals tend to attract her, because she apparently has very little self-preservation instinct. She's about to walk into a vampire's lair, after all. But she cannot believe that Alice means her harm, or Edward either for that matter. He can barely stand to be in the same room with her.
Alice smiles so sweetly she almost looks like an angel.
Almost. If angels dressed in black leather and hid razors behind their smiles. Despite her bubbly personality Bella has no illusions about what this girl is. She can sense the predator beneath the surface, just as she can with her wolves. The fact that it attracts rather than repels her is entirely her own fault, not Alice's.
"I'm glad you trust me," Alice says, slinging her bag over her arm as they start up the walkway to the door. "Because this is about to get very interesting."
"Is it?" Bella likes the sound of that. "Is Edward here?" she finds herself asking, despite having told herself sternly earlier that she would not.
"No. He ran off to pout with our cousins in Alaska for a while. Don't worry about it. He'll be back when you need him."
Bella quirks an eyebrow at her friend. She does not need people—not singular, individual ones. She never has. She's curious about the beautiful, moody boy she teased and called Lestat, but no more than that. All she ever needs from anyone is their desire, and this is something Edward seems unwilling to give her.
"Anyway, you don't have to worry about anything here with us," Alice continues, smoothly ignoring the bitch brow thrown her way. "This family's good with weird."
"I guess you'd have to be," Bella allows. "It still seems fucking weird to me that you live together as a family. Are you really? I mean, biologically? Do vampires pop out kids like humans do?"
Alice's little trill of a bird laugh sounds again. Bella finds herself wanting to crack jokes just to hear it, it's so beautiful. "No. Not at all. That possibility dies when we do. Some regret it—I don't." Her warm yellow eyes meet Bella's, open and gentle. "This family was built on purpose, not by chance."
Bella thinks she likes that answer. Most families can't stand each other, but these vampires may be a rare exception. "Do most vampires live in families?" she asks as Alice pushes open the door and gestures her inside. "The only other one I've ever met was alone, and he ran like hell from me."
The foyer is light and open, thanks to the abundance of glass in the architecture. Bella begins to glance around but her attention is immediately caught by two figures, a giant mountain of a man and the tall blond woman in front of him. She's the most beautiful thing Bella has ever seen, hands-down. Her moody brother might give her a run for her money, but this woman probably wins out over even him. She's a supermodel, and what makes it better is how she's not even trying. She's dressed as elegantly as Alice but there's no hint of surgery or fillers or other enhancements to her at all.
"Oh." Bella sucks in a swift breath. This must be Rose, the sister Alice warned her about. The sister she said took some of the attention away when she was around. No fucking duh. Staring at her, Bella wonders how anyone else ever gets any attention at all. "You're Rose."
"Rosalie," the girl says warily, exchanging a quick glance with her sister that Bella cannot read. "Alice, what the hell are you doing?"
"What needs to be done," Alice says peaceably.
Bella ignores their confusing words. She steps close to Rose, studying that lovely face. She's classically beautiful, not as sharp as Alice, with the loveliest high cheekbones and the fullest, sexiest mouth Bella has ever seen in person. "Whoa," she says, and almost without conscious thought her hand comes up to touch the other girl's cheek. "You're way prettier than me. I totally get it now, Alice."
Rosalie jerks back. "Boundaries much?" she snaps, but there's no true anger lurking in her yellow eyes or the corners of her sexy mouth. Irritation, yes, but warring with that Bella sees a grudging sort of interest.
"Sorry. I'm not really good with those. I pissed off your brother, too." Bella shoves her hands behind her back and threads her fingers together to keep from inappropriately touching again. The zing she felt when her fingers brushed Rose's cheek was almost the same she felt from Edward, and she wants desperately to understand what this means. She's never felt it from anyone else, and that's not normal. She's been around too long to be discovering new things about herself now, so this must be a vampire thing. But she won't touch them again, she tells herself firmly. They clearly don't like it.
Rose runs her fingertips over the spot Bella touched, frowning at her. "Piss off Edward as much as you want. It's one of my favorite hobbies, in fact. But learn some boundaries with everyone else, huh?"
"I'm sorry," Bella says, and she is, at least in the sense that she doesn't really like making people uncomfortable. Her fingers still tingle as she holds them resolutely behind her back. She wants to go around putting her hands on all the Cullens now, just to see if they all feel the same way. It's incredibly soothing, sweet and sparkling, almost like the rush of carbonated water across the tongue, and she wants badly to know what's causing it.
"Don't worry about it, little B," the mountain says, grinning as he wraps an arm around Rosalie's shoulders from behind. He pulls her close and she relaxes against him grudgingly, as if she wants to continue being irritated but can't help herself. Bella hides a knowing grin. This woman is no marshmallow—she'd never be stupid enough to claim that. But that giant behind her is her mountain-sized weak spot, and she can't hide it. "My Rosie's the hottest thing on two legs. Everyone knows it."
"You seriously are," Bella agrees. She unclasps her hands and offers the right hesitantly. "Uh, I don't know if you...I'm Bella," she says finally.
"We know." Rose stares at her hand for a long moment before finally giving her the briefest of handshakes. And yes, that tingling feeling echoes along her palm as the vampire presses it. It's so similar to how she felt when Edward touched her, and Bella's desperate to understand this, to figure out what's going on.
"Why do you feel like that?" She shakes her hand a little when Rosalie pulls away.
"Me? What about you?" the blonde demands, her tone accusatory.
"I don't know what you mean."
"Well, neither do I." Rosalie steps backward into the mountain's arms. He grins at Bella over her shoulder. Bella considers him. He's far more rugged than his brother. Edward is a pretty boy, this is a handsome man, and there's a very big difference in Bella's mind. She inhales deeply, scenting the people around her. There's no spark of desire at all from Alice, who stands watching their interaction like someone observing animals at the zoo. From Rose Bella gets a faint whiff of grudging acknowledgment, which is a flavor she's very used to. The woman doesn't want her, but recognizes a fellow beauty when she sees one. Bella isn't upset by this at all. It's a far better response than she gets from many other beautiful women, the ones obsessed with their own appearance who jealously guard their place in the pecking order. But Bella willingly conceded from the first that Rosalie is queen here, and she has no interest in battling her for that role.
"I'm Emmett," the mountain says, his grin revealing adorable dimples that make Bella weak in the knees. She'd happily climb this man, but that would make Rose upset so she refrains. Committed relationships are not her thing, but she's learned through long experience that they're not good to mess with, either. She can feel Emmett's desire rolling off of him in waves but his eyes are all for Rosalie and Bella can definitely respect that. It's actually incredibly sweet. She wouldn't have guessed monogamy was something vampires were into.
"Carlisle is teaching today and Jasper has class," Alice says. "You already know Edward is away. I don't know exactly where Esme is, but she'll turn up soon."
The first crash of thunder rumbles outside. Bella feels the hairs along her arms and the back of her neck lift, and her inner fire flares in response. The lightning is still miles away yet, but it's a warning. She flinches.
So do the three vampires around her. Rose's nostrils flare and Emmett's chin lifts as he scents her. "Whoa, little B. That's...intense."
"Sorry." She's never apologized for her effect on people before, but she finds that she is sorry today—not that it happens, but that it might bother these potential friends. "I don't have any control over it."
Rose looks at her curiously. "You respond to the weather?"
"I...no?" As Bella fumbles for the words to describe something she's never chosen to explain before, thunder rumbles again. The answering surge of her inner fire puts the lie to her words and Rose raises a very skeptical eyebrow. "I mean, not usually. Not like you and sunlight. It's just the energy." She winces. She's not explaining well, and she knows it.
"It's okay, Bella," Alice says gently. "I told you this family is good with weird."
"Yeah," Emmett mutters, "but this is weird even for us." He pulls Rosalie firmer against his chest, and Bella knows full well he's hiding an erection behind her.
"I should go back to Greek Row," Bella says, shifting toward the door. "We can do this another time." Sometime when the spark of nearby lightning doesn't trigger her inner fire.
"Back to the dogs?" Rose's lip curls in derision.
"Yes," Bella says, struggling to keep hold of her temper. It's much more difficult when her blood's raging, her fire uncurling, flowing through her bloodstream like alcohol. "They don't mind." Rosalie and the rest of the Cullens have every right to dislike her wolves, she reminds herself, just as the wolves have every right to dislike their new neighbors.
"We don't mind, either," Alice says firmly. "Being a family means taking the good with the bad—and the just plain weird."
"I'm not family." Another rumble of thunder echoes outside and Bella's fire flares in response.
"Not yet," Alice says with utter calm. "It's fine, Bella."
"Let me at least hang outside until the lightning passes." She takes another step toward the door. They're all being incredibly nice about this, but she can see the tension in Rosalie's body, the way Emmett's big hand clenches around her hip. The spark that sizzles between them is red-hot, and Bella has no wish to fuck with that. How Alice remains so perfectly poised, she has no idea.
"You'll get cold," Alice protests.
Bella chuckles. "I'm never cold. I don't even know what that feels like." It's one perk of the fire always burning inside.
Something in Alice's face shifts. There's that feeling again, something akin to Bella's own fire brushing gently at her skin. A moment later Alice blinks. "All right," she says, and Bella is suddenly wary of this abrupt change in demeanor. No longer the gracious hostess begging her not to leave, now Alice suddenly seems to agree with Bella's assessment of the situation. "You can wait out back. There are trails into the woods, depending on how far you want to go." She leads her past an immaculate white living room into a kitchen and through a set of French doors onto a sweeping patio. Beyond this lies a swath of green lawn, then the little river Bella heard when they drove up, and the forest beyond.
In relief, Bella steps out into the humid air as the first fat drops of rain begin to fall. "I'm sorry," she says, glancing back at Alice.
"The storm won't last. We can talk after." Alice smiles and retreats, leaving the door open. Beyond the threshold, Bella sees the silhouettes of Rosalie and Emmett disappear swiftly upstairs. A smile tugs her lips—she knows exactly what they're disappearing to do, and while it's partially her fault, she refuses to feel entirely guilty. The spark between those two burns so brightly it can't be concealed anyway.
She turns away from the sprawling house, determined to get far enough away that no matter how hard this storm rages, her fire won't affect the people inside. Alice has to have felt it, though she hid her reactions well, and she did say their mother might be around, too. Fueling Rosalie and Emmett doesn't really bother Bella since they're clearly each other's outlet, but she'd feel bad sparking off anyone else when she's not sure they have one. Instead she pushes through the warm rain, crossing the little bridge over the stream and entering the woods. Her clothes are quickly soaked but she doesn't really care, except for how her Chucks squelch as she walks.
What's more irritating is the answering surge of her fire each time lightning flickers in the sky, the way the heat fires through her, expanding with every pulse of electricity. Oh, fuck. She's suddenly ravenous, and this is not something she wants Alice to witness. She should have listened to Sam. Not because the Cullens are dangerous, but because she just can't function like a normal person and trying always, always gets her into trouble. Sam knows this. He's witnessed it. Maybe he really knows better than she does. She never believes it when her mind is clear and she's thinking coherently, but when the hunger takes her hard like this all she wants is someone with a firmer mind who knows what she needs to make the craving stop. She whimpers, barely able to hear herself over the roar of rain on leaves around her. She's soaked to the skin in a rush of warm water and part of her loves it, part of her hates it. She steams, her unnatural body heat and the humid air creating a cloud of vapor as water evaporates from her soaked skin. Her scent rises with the steam, so strong even she can smell herself, which she usually cannot.
Fire and desire churn in her belly, burn in her blood. She staggers, acutely aware of how alone she is here in the woods behind the Cullen house. She ran from the only other people in the area for fear of what her fire would do to them, but now that means she has to deal with it on her own, and it's not so easy for her as it is for a human. Were she human she could just shove her hand between her legs and take care of this need on her own, but it doesn't work like that for her. She whimpers again, grabbing the rough bark of a tree to feel something, anything, the harsh texture scraping her tender palm. Even that little touch explodes in her blood, intensifying the need that burns through her, pulsing hard like the deep bass of a pounding rock song. Oh fucking hell, she needs. She needs so goddamn much, and there's no one here to fix it. Her clit throbs, hard and wanting, blood swelling the little red ache between her legs, and she feels so goddamn empty. Thunder crashes and a moment later another flicker of lightning streaks across the sky. Oh, fuck. Oh, hell. Her fire roars in response, and she cries out in agony. She rubs roughly at the juncture of her legs though she knows from long experience this will not help. It only makes it worse, like scratching a rash. She cries out, cursing her idiotic decision to go home with Alice Cullen when there was a storm in the air. Friendship isn't worth this torture. She should have returned to the frat house, let her wolves take care of her. They would have relished the opportunity.
Somehow through the pulsing torture of need and fury, the fire burning her alive, a scent reaches Bella. It's cool and crisp, like a pure hit of fucking Christmas right to her veins. Spruce and snow, sharp steel wrapped in the thinnest veneer of silk. She cries out in agonizing need and staggers, nearly blind with desire and suddenly focused fully on that scent. She wants it, craves it. It's the answer to everything, every pain pulsing through her, she's sure of it, if only she could find it. She inhales deeply, desperate for more. She's not the sort of predator who can track by scent alone, but fuck it, she has to try. She's too needy not to. That scent is cool as smooth water, enticing as sin, and she needs something to sate the flame. Closing her eyes, struggling to focus on that scent through the pouring rain hammering her skin and crash of thunder echoing in her ears, she launches herself in what she hopes is the correct direction.
This is a terrible idea, she learns almost instantly. To be fair, most of her ideas when the fire takes her are terrible. Like too much alcohol, it dulls her ability to reason. She gets four steps before she lands in a bush, then, while flailing to right herself, trips over a rock. She pitches forward and her forehead collides with a tree. The world spins like a carousel for a long, sickening moment, and when she opens her eyes she's on her back in the mud with a throbbing ache in her skull where it shook hands with the trunk of a sturdy pine. Groaning, she touches the swollen knot that's already forming. Her fingertips come away wet with rain and blood. Lovely. She whimpers, the fire inside still raging and now she's not sure she can even go back to the Cullen house when the storm passes. Not with an open wound. Why didn't she ask Alice about the whole blood thing earlier? That should have been her first question upon meeting a vampire. It's what any sane person would ask.
But she's not human and apparently doesn't fall under the label of "sane person" either, because despite the blood, the rain, the soggy forest floor beneath her, when she inhales all her mind can process is that the scent of winter has intensified. She blinks rain from her bleary vision, struggling to right herself. She needs it. She's burning with desire, shaking with hunger, and she knows deep inside that that scent can quench this ache. Better than a human, better even than her wolves. How she knows she has no idea, but her body understands what it wants. Her pussy clenches hard, feeling so painfully empty. She wants something big and powerful filling her, wants the heat of another body rubbing against hers. She can feel the trickle of rain and blood along her forehead and she does not give a fuck. This hunger is too deep to ignore, ignited by the fury of the storm. She huddles, shaking as she struggles to get her feet back under her, to fight her way to what she needs. The pain in her head is nothing compared to the ache deep inside, the hunger peeling her to pieces. Every atom in her being is fixated on that scent, spruce and wintergreen, steel and ozone. She wants to drink it down like fucking Powerade. She needs it; it's so fucking heady, and she swears she can taste that scent on her tongue, almost feel it on her skin, the same prickly, carbonated sensation she gets from touching the Cullens.
As if the fleeting thought of them summons him, a body is suddenly upon her. She sprawls flat again, his form heavy and hard, unyielding as granite atop her. Oh, that's so fucking good. A deep breath pools against her neck, prickling her skin with gooseflesh, a sensation she's never, ever felt before. She groans at the prickly deliciousness. Relief washes through her as the taste of his wintry desire flows like snowmelt along her skin.
Edward. Even after so few meetings, she'd know that scent anywhere. Her arms rise to hold him to her, one hot palm cupping his neck. She drinks in his desire greedily, that wintry feeling cooling the headlong rush of her fire, though it does nothing to diminish her need. Thunder crashes almost overhead and she flinches as her fire flares in response.
Edward whimpers against her skin, a breathy little moan torn from his lungs without his consent. She settles her nose in the crook of his neck, overwhelmed with gratitude that he seemed to be hunting her just as she was hunting him. Turns out she's a terrible hunter, and she's really more of an indoor girl anyway. She loves how solid he feels on top of her, pinning her to the ground with the brutal efficiency of a predator without an ounce of concern for her comfort. She can't imagine anything better. Her hips roll against the fly of his jeans and the rock-hard bulge within them, and she cries out as sensation rushes through her. Yes. Fuck, yes. She won't make him do anything; she'll do all the work, so long as he doesn't leave this spot until the lightning stops. All he has to do is just hold still, right there, just like that. She'd prefer if he did more, but since he apparently has major hangups when it comes to her, she won't press her luck.
A rough tongue sparkling with that strange sensation licks her temple, runs cool and wet over her rain-soaked skin, up to the pulsing heat of the cut on her forehead. It licks desperately over the tear in her skin and with a needy little whimper his lips close over the break, sucking firmly.
She whines, rubbing her pelvis hard against him, her hands scrabbling at the saturated waistband of his jeans. She wants them off, wants access to his skin, the prickly, peppery sensation she's very quickly come to adore. He can take what he needs from her so long as she gets to do the same thing in return. He can have her blood—it's not what other men want from her, but hell, she's open-minded. He can even bite her, so long as her heart remains beating at the end of this encounter.
"Oh, god." She hears his voice for the first time today, his words breathed into her scorching skin. He swallows, the movement of his Adam's apple desperate and harsh. She can't manage in her need-soaked state to fumble his jeans open, so she switches to her own. This, thank god, is easier. The button and fly of her shorts are well-worn and familiar to her hands and they fall open easily. She shoves them down, shimmying her ass out of the saturated fabric as it tries to cling to her.
"More," she pleads. She's so hot, and that prickly sensation of him is the only thing she wants. She licks his skin, tasting that hit of fucking Christmas. Will he fuck her? She's not sure, but she knows she desperately wants him to. Hell, he shouldn't even be here. Alice said he was...she doesn't remember where. Not here, anyway. She can't think beyond the fire in her blood. She kicks one leg free of her shorts and wraps her thigh around his hip, grinding hard against him. Unlike when she touched herself with her own hand, this time pleasure fires through her, swift and sweet. She moans in relief even as the tension in her body coils tighter. Other men can sate her, but nothing has ever cooled her fire as Edward does. She wraps herself around him, pleading for that sparkling touch alive with energy, bubbling like carbonation as he drags his tongue along her skin, catching the tiny rivulets of rain and blood. He can take it; she's happy to give. Her forehead tingles where his lips slide against her skin, and it's the most delicious sensation she's ever experienced. She can't identify those tingles, but she loves them. She opens her mouth, unfurling her tongue to lick what she can reach, which turns out to be his jaw. It's sharply angular, straight as a blade, and the taste of his rain-soaked skin rattles her to her core. She moans like a whore, gripping his ass in her strong fingers, grinding hard against him. Thunder crashes almost directly overhead, and as the answering surge of fire pulses through her she comes apart beneath him. She cries out, and the rhythmic jerks of her body tear his mouth from her cut.
He grimaces; through hazy vision she recognizes that mask of desire on his pretty face well. He wants to devour her. Good. She'll happily let him. She rubs herself against his bulge shamelessly, prolonging the orgasm rolling sweetly through her. It feels so fucking good after her desperation, but it's not enough. The storm still rages, her fire still burns, and she's now terrified that after this small taste she may never get enough of this man. He's still fully clothed and no way is she willing to let him stay that way. She wraps her calves around his and tries to flip them, as she effortlessly flips most men. She's stronger than a human, but as she quickly learns, she's no match for the vampire atop her. Like a statue, he doesn't even budge. Somehow, this only makes her want him more.
His tongue rolls over his lower lip, wet with rain and just a trace of her blood. There's no yellow in his eyes now, swallowed by the deep black of hunger. He pants, his breath washing over her in prickly gusts. She inhales it greedily, her attention caught fully by that movement, the tip of his red tongue drawn across that soft lip. She digs her fingers into his back and lunges. If she can't flip and strip him, she at least wants that mouth.
Her movement apparently takes him by surprise, his mouth slightly open when she attacks it. The first thing she tastes is the sweet hit of her own blood watered by rain, but then as her tongue enters his mouth, something else takes over. He reels back for a moment as if to struggle, but the attempt is over in an instant as he succumbs. The sparkling-sharp taste of him explodes on her tongue, winter-sweet. She whines helplessly as another burst of thunder and crackle of lightning clash overhead. More. More. She has no words to describe how he tastes, but it feels like downing her very first shot of hard liquor, the instant burst of sweet, blissful, spinning drunkenness. "More," she pleads, but speaking with her tongue in his mouth is not the wisest idea. Her lower lip grazes one of his teeth and blood blooms, hot and red, smeared between them.
He hisses, and his mouth instantly latches down on her lip, sucking firmly. She really, really doesn't mind. "You can bite," she mumbles around his mouth, giving him permission if that's what he wants. She can feel the raw hunger in him, the desperation, but it isn't just her cunt he wants. He can have her blood—that's fine. She'll happily trade fluid for fluid, hunger for hunger. It's just as reasonable a currency as the one she usually trades in.
"I can't." The whimper torn from his throat quivers with the pain of holding himself back. She can hear how badly he wants to. He releases her lip, his body shaking with need above her. Those black eyes are darker than anything she's ever seen, full of the wretched pain of the damned and the hunger of the beast.
"You can. It's called consent. I'm giving it." He has her complete permission, not that she's ever known a vampire to require that. Don't predators usually take without asking? Isn't that the law of the wild?
"No." His tongue lashes her lip, desperate for the taste of her even as he denies himself more than that tiny trickle. "I will not damn you." His mouth meets hers, and this time it's much more like a true kiss. He's clumsy with both need and inexperience, which she finds oddly touching. Her wet hands release his shirt and rise to cup his face, tilting it smoothly, showing him how to slant his mouth against hers just right.
"Who says it would damn me?" She does not believe for a moment that his bite would. Oh, she knows the stories. But she's no weak little human.
"You're stupider than I thought if you want to risk it," he chokes out. His tongue licks over her lip again, though that tiny razor-like slash has nearly closed.
It's not that she wants the risk, exactly. But she can feel the hunger rolling off of him, twin to the ache within her, and it's only fair that she slakes as she intends to take from him. A little frown appears between her brows even as she rolls her hips against him. "Fuck me, then." If he refuses to take her blood he can at least have this. That ample bulge in his jeans is a desire she's much more familiar with, and one she knows she's very capable of fulfilling.
"No." He sucks longingly at her lip, rubs his tongue sensually against hers, and his hips jerk hard up between her legs, but he refuses to remove his jeans. "I don't do that."
"I do." She winces as lightning flickers overhead, rolling her pelvis along him. He's holding on to control by the thinnest thread. A vein in his forehead pulses and his neck is fiercely corded with tension. She swears she's never seen anything more beautiful, not even Rosalie. Need hovers thick and close around them like the electricity of the storm. "What's stopping you?"
"I don't know you."
That's true enough, but Bella also figures that he probably shouldn't have his tongue in her mouth if he doesn't know her, either. What's one more imposition, really, especially since it's one she really, really wants? "You know what's a really good way to get to know someone? Fucking." She reaches between them to cup his bulge and squeeze. His face draws up in a grimace of pleasured pain. He's so close to snapping. She whines softly and kneads him teasingly, but the storm is moving on, the fire in her blood cooling once more as the lightning fades. The rain continues to sheet down and irritation bubbles within her. That prickly, wintry feeling has cooled her fire enough to stave off combustion and she came once, gently, but the intense hit she received from the taste of him has not calmed and since he did not come or even remove his clothes, she's still starving and irritable.
"Why do you deny yourself?" Honestly, he can deny himself all he wants and it means very little to her. Except for right now, when it tortures them both.
"Try it sometime and maybe you'll find out."
Yeah, that's it. Her fire flares again despite the waning storm, rekindled by anger. Most men who fling scorn at human women don't dare fling it at her and she has no shame anyway. But this motherfucker doesn't get to lay on top of her, panting with need as he sucks her tongue and licks her blood, and insult her like that. She swipes two of her fingers between her legs, gathering the silky moisture pooling between her folds, then lifts them to shove in his mouth.
His reaction is instantaneous and feral, his mouth clamping down on her fingers for only a moment before he rips his body from hers. For one heartbeat she thinks she's pushed him too far and he's running, but then strong, unyielding hands reach under her to grab her ass, his grip hard and possessive. She melts, both at that touch and the black desire in his haunted eyes. Oh, he's furious. Let him be. She is, too. She deliberately prods her fire, stoking it hotter, brighter, letting it tease along his skin. With an animalistic snarl his shoulders wedge her thighs apart. He pulls her forward and fills his mouth.
Her cry pierces the rain-studded forest. His mouth attacks her like the predator he is, no teeth but savage in every other way. He has no experience, no idea what he's doing, and it's clear he does not care. This isn't for her pleasure but for his, his mouth covering her firmly, tongue licking intently at the wetness seeping from her, coating her in slippery-sweet slickness. She cries out, her fire flaming bright even as the storm recedes, thunder just a reluctant grumble in the distance. The savagery of his hunger eclipses even the storm as the bubbly feeling of his touch soothes the ache between her legs even as it redoubles her desire. He's brutal as he takes what he wants, sating his hunger, that dark desire rolling in waves off of him. She feeds on it recklessly, as recklessly as she sucked his tongue, the feel of his tongue spearing her deeply driving her relentlessly higher. He feeds on her wetness as he fed on her blood, taking rather than letting her give. Is this against the rules Sam laid out for her? Most definitely, and in this moment she really, really doesn't care. This vampire savagery as he literally feeds from her is exactly what she craves and she hurtles quickly over the edge, coming so hard it's painful. Her sweet slickness flows from her and he rumbles appreciatively against her flesh, sucking hard.
"I can make you feel good," she pants, watching him through half-lidded eyes, most of her anger swept away by pleasure. The taste of his desire is so fucking sweet, so fucking strong. She can't imagine what it would feel like to really taste him, to feel his cum deep in her cunt or on her tongue. She's insatiable anyway but his taste drives her to madness.
"No." His tortured reply is resolute, his denial as unbending as steel.
"What are you so afraid of?" She can see and feel how much she affects him, how much he wants her. His tongue licks desperately at her moisture, plunging inside to taste her sweetness at the source. She's occasionally met people who just are not interested, but none who tie themselves in knots to deny themselves like this.
This question irritates the hell out of him. He growls, and as his lips draw back from his teeth, he inadvertently nicks her again. The tiny cut on her tender outer lip, near her clit, burns sweetly, as does his mouth as it closes helplessly around the little bloom of blood with a tortured whimper. And then the world shifts and seems to implode on her as his body convulses. The taste of her blood mixed with the sweetness of her liquid desire hurtles him over the edge. Fully clothed and soaked with rain, he comes abruptly. His lips clamp down, sucking hard, and his rough cheek jerks against her clit. She follows him helplessly, the intensity of his dark, shattering desire firing through her veins as it overloads even her tolerance levels. It's too much—more than her system can cope with. Bliss shatters through her, her pleasure triggered and fed by his startled release as he falls apart with his head between her legs, his mouth on her bloody flesh. The last thing she remembers before blacking out is desperately hoping they get to do this again sometime.
Yes, it was too soon. I know. Have faith. Explanations next chapter, I promise! Otherwise this chapter would have been 20k words and I was informed that was too much.
I'm judo_lin on twitter and I follow back fandom people as long as you're nice. :)