Chapter 14. Lover

It's quite possible I own this beach town.

No less than five pedestrians referred to me as "Mister Cullen" throughout my day with Isabella. One mumbled something about me being a morning person now. Three appeared afraid to speak to me at all and barely made eye contact, which I found rather rude. The other asked about a woman I apparently associate with here and whether I'd like her "prepared" for the evening.

I've already made a note to look up this "Luna Clair" at some point to see who she is and why I would know her. And better yet, why it seems to be such a secretive late-night meeting I have with her once every two weeks.

A concubine, perhaps?

She certainly won't be necessary going forward.

Not to mention, none of this accounts for the manager of the hotel we ended up at. He quite literally wanted to give us the entire week for free in their honeymoon suite.

"And you didn't let him comp the room because...?" Isabella asks me on our way to the elevator.

"Wouldn't that be, what's the word, unethical?" Did she not just speak of money and how important it is to one's daily life?

"Um, not when you're broke," she informs me. An exception. Of course.

"But I'm not broke," I very smugly remind her.

"Right. But I am." Ah, the sarcasm of Isabella.

I wave a hand at her concerns. "It's my treat, Isabella." Really, humans and their constant worry over the monetary value of things.

"I don't know if that's a great idea, considering… I mean, wouldn't you rather go dutch?"

Dutch? Why on Earth...

"What?" she pushes when I don't answer right away.

"Isabella, why in Hell would I want to go to the Netherlands? It's freezing there."

She covers that beautiful mouth of hers to muffle the laughter. Then she tries to straighten her face into a more serious expression. "Edward?"

"Yes?"

"You're so weird. But I really like it."

xxxxxxxxx

After getting settled into our room, Isabella decides we should spend the day on the sand, under the sunshine, with nothing but music and each other's company. I'm not opposed to that idea at all other than the tiny, miniscule grains of crushed rock we have to endure.

She allows me to purchase the necessities for such a day out and about, amused with my need to keep all things sand off of me at all costs. Literally. We settle on a plot of land mostly away from the crowd of beach-goers.

I quickly realize I could sit and follow this routine with her on a daily basis for an eternity. Her entire existence reveals her passion and caring for all the people and things she loves as she chats away about everything and everyone in her life.

Her roommate, Rose, for one. Who may or may not be slightly off balance, in this god's humble opinion. The elderly people she visits weekly, the hounds that she walks, her part-time jobs helping friends with - well, pretty much anything they need help with. Whatever brings her the wages she requires to have a full life outside of those positions. She apparently has no desire to make more than what's absolutely necessary to survive.

When we discuss our reading preferences, she tells me her favorite book is about a college student who persuades himself to believe he must commit murder in order to make a better life for himself. Consequently, he decides it's quite alright to do so because the individual he wishes to murder is not a good person. The downside, however, is that once the deed is done, the protagonist spends the rest of the book questioning if it was the right thing to do.

Typical.

I find this character to be an idiot and wonder why humans tend to have this innate sense of guilt inside them whenever they do something they think others will disapprove of.

When a god does something, anything, we know it's for the greater good and tend to forget it about it the moment it passes. The single instance I can honestly say this hasn't happened, is the moment I met Isabella.

We debate the sanity of the author, and I'm quite adamant that he is most likely the very student he wrote about seeking some sort of exoneration from the act. She seems to take my opinion to heart although I'm not sure why it would bother her. It's not as though she committed the killing.

Later, she speaks of her hometown a bit.

I do not.

She tells me under two thousand people live where she's from. About horseback riding and town hall meetings, local farmer's markets, and how it's both a good and a bad thing to have everyone in town knowing your business.

She speaks very briefly and solemnly about her mother and tells me she misses her very much. But when I offer to take her there, today, right then as a matter of fact, she simply shakes her head.

"I can't," is all she will say on the matter. There's a twinge of sadness in her eyes that she attempts to smile away, but I see it. And it reminds me of how I feel when I think about where I'm from.

After that, Isabella quickly changes the subject matter to dinner, since it's getting late.

After that, we took a walk along the water until she began to yawn.

Which brings us to this extremely awkward moment I'm having in this hotel room. This room with a bar full of tiny alcoholic drinks, a king-sized bed, and Isabella, standing on the balcony, alone.

My entire body feels as though it's shaking. However, when I glance down, my hands are perfectly calm. I don't understand what this new torment of emotions might be until finally, I do.

I'm nervous.

As Hell.

But why? She's human. I'm not afraid of humans.

No, that's incorrect. I am afraid of this one.

"Are you planning on sitting in the corner all night, Edward? Or are you going to come appreciate this incredible view with me?" Isabella calls to me like a siren, pulling me toward impending doom.

Mine… and hers.

Despite the ongoing flood of anger at the name she calls me, I remind myself that a) I gave it to her when I introduced myself and b) it's me she is here with, despite the name. I attempt to will myself up out of this Satan forsaken chair.

One problem remains. My feet refuse to move.

The room is as cold as though a blizzard has suddenly blown through the suite, and yet I know for a fact it's quite warm in here. I set the thermostat myself to make sure Isabella was comfortable.

I focus on the sound of the crashing of waves outside to help silence the spinning thoughts that crowd my mind and finally, finally, I defeat my inner turmoil. I'm able to push myself up so that I'm standing at least. With the first few tentative steps I take toward her, I let myself appreciate the silhouette of Isabella's body as it stands against the brightness of the moon.

She's like a goddess standing there only with better curves. And despite the mildness of the breeze, she cradles herself in her arms as she stares out at the ocean. I wonder what crowds her thoughts this evening.

I sidle up behind Isabella and fold my arms over top of hers to help keep her warm. The truth is that she is the one that radiates the heat. Sunshine flows through my veins as I stand there holding her. Her body against mine is quite literally perfection.

The desire to turn her around and kiss her again is strong, but I don't trust myself - or the vampire - to do what's right just yet. Whatever that even is at this point.

Isabella sighs into me and relaxes, letting her head fall against the crook of my shoulder.

"I'm so glad you kidnapped me and brought me here," she says, and I can hear the smile in her voice. It forces a smile from me as well, thinking that anyone, or rather that she, specifically, would be so satisfied to be with me.

It's unheard of.

"I didn't really have a choice," I tell her honestly, pushing some hair away from her neck. There will be no expanding on that confession with an explanation. Not tonight.

"I could stare out at the ocean forever," she declares whimsically. The mere sound of her voice makes it difficult for me to focus on not wanting her. "Couldn't you?"

"Mmm." I dip my head and place a small kiss against her neck to test the waters, so to speak.

Goosebumps spread along her shoulder and she tilts her head, just so, as though she wishes me to continue.

"There's something about you, Edward," she whispers. And I hum against her skin, waiting for the usual urge to form. "About us."

She shivers and it reverberates against me like a raw emotion, one I both welcome and abhor.

"That kiss… the one in your office."

"Yes." I make another well placed brush of my lips against Isabella's neckline, a bit closer to the nape this time. So far, so good.

So very good.

"I've never felt that before. That… intense kind of feeling inside my chest… like I was going to explode from the inside out. You know?"

I stop and think over what she's said.

Of course, I've known that gods have a distinct power surging through their feelings. It's more than humans typically can withstand on a very basic, yet complicated level. It's not physical, what she's feeling, it's more… elemental, to put it simply.

"I do," I admit and make a note to myself to reign my emotions in a bit when dealing with Isabella. The last thing I want to do is have her implode right before me.

I believe I should hold off on experimenting anymore for the evening, ready to call it a night. But Isabella has other plans. Instead of waiting for me to do something with the incredibly romantic moment we seem to be sharing, she turns. She faces me. It crumples my determination.

Her eyes are absolutely stunning in this moment.

Her skin is so warm and inviting against mine.

I tuck her hair behind an ear.

"You were superbly created," I tell her quietly, my fingers trailing along her arm.

Not a glimmer of concern shows in her expression for anything I have to say now. For just a flash, here… with her, it's as though I'm like any other human aboveground. But when she pushes up onto her tiptoes to lean in further, fear grips me once again. I stop her gently, taking her wrist in my hand.

"I said there were no expectations this weekend, Isabella."

Only the slightest of hesitation sneaks through in her expression before she replies. "But I didn't."

At that, she closes the space between our lips, and I am done. Or rather, un-done.

The subtle longing she creates in me starts to form as our kiss begins. It grows in intensity and my hands roam. To where I don't know, to be honest. Anywhere. Everywhere. As long as they're on her body. As long as they keep her next to me like this.

With her pressed against me, I feel her heartbeat and it awakens a familiar urge.

And so much for normal.

It doesn't matter, I decide. I am determined to overcome this craving that resides inside my psyche. Even if it kills me.

I refuse to destroy her, regardless of who, or what I am.

Because saying no is not an option at this point.

I am Hades after all.

Before I can decide how to handle this delicate situation, Isabella is nudging me backwards until I fall onto one of the pieces of furniture here on the balcony.

"Would you not rather be inside where it's warmer?" I'm clearly mistaken that a woman might want some privacy in these circumstances because Isabella is already removing her hoodie.

It seems as though she is no longer cold.

And no longer inhibited.

Panic strikes me when I am suddenly and absolutely aware that, after a millennium alone with only the dead for company, I have no idea what I'm doing. What to say, how to say it, how to move… where to touch her… but it doesn't seem to matter. Isabella doesn't care. She only appears to want… me.

Hades.

Awkward and clueless and unaware of how to remove a brassiere, apparently.

And when she straddles the lounger I'm sitting on, lowering herself down onto my lap, all thoughts of what to do and how to do it are thrown out the window.

Or over the railing.

The desire to know her in the most carnal of ways has now overtaken every other logical thought in my mind. I sit up and pull her into another kiss and this one is more human… for her sake. And yet it's so much more than any I have ever dreamed of experiencing.

Her mouth is sweet and wet and warm, and her body is telling me everything we've never said aloud. The vampire's will is but a weakened murmur from the recesses of my mind. As I breathe her name, she whispers in my ear.

"Call me Bella." As though she's reading my mind, she adds, "I like the way it sounds when you say it."

And I'll give her anything she wants. "Bella."

It seems like moments into embracing, caressing, touching, feeling our way around one another, our clothes are gone, and it is only our bare-skinned bodies that now bask in the moonlight. As my fingers glide along her waist, I'm keenly aware that she is softer than I could have possibly imagined. She's like a silkened blanket that slips itself against me quite wonderfully.

Her breasts gently brush against me and my entire body pricks with excitement. It's as though the chills her presence has been sending through me all along were just preparing me for what was to come.

Her legs slide alongside my own. The friction is more than I can bear. It's exhausting keeping control of every cell in my body, of every thought that passes, every urge created. But I know it's required if I want to keep her safe. Despite it all, I may just die if I'm not inside of her soon.

Just when I'm convinced that death is about to befall me, Isabella takes me in her soft, gentle, flawless hand and guides me to where I want to be. Where I need to be with every fiber of my godly being.

"A goddess," I mutter. As I enter her wholly, I realize how very ill prepared I am for this very moment. Every emotion Isabella has drawn from me since our first moments together, every thought, every touch, every smile and passing glance; her knowing eyes, the tilt of her head, her lips when they meet mine… it's all been nothing compared to this.

Realization hits me in an explosion of electrified pulses throughout every fiber in my questionable soul. This is what she meant when she described our kiss earlier. One-thousand fold.

I'm fully expecting to rip her apart with the vampire's compulsion, but I find I'm not filled with lust, or cravings. Instead, I'm filled with something I cannot say I thought would be possible in the entirety of my existence. The heart that's thumping inside her chest has somehow along the way become not something I have a taste for, not anything I want to eradicate, but rather something I have become one with.

Our rhythm is supremely coexistent in the ideal blend of nerves and passion. With every new experience I have with Isabella, I find another explosion of staggering emotions erupt within me. Tonight, they range from desire, affection, protection, remorse, want, obsession, warmth, passion, fervor… and one that causes the most disturbing concern of all.

At first, I tell myself I don't recognize it.

That I've never known such a feeling.

But I have known.

Since the very juncture in which I nearly trampled her my first night here on Earth.

Love.

And as Isabella lets out a cry that comes off like it's both pain and pleasure mixed in only the best of ways, I grab ahold of her for stability through my own climax. The only thing I'm able to do is hold on for dear life afterward.

I am breathless.

I am exhausted.

I am never returning to the underworld.

I want to be with her, always.

Poseidon can jump from the cliffs of Tartarus if he expects otherwise.

xxxxxxxxx

Somewhere in the hours following the absolute best experience of my existence, we find ourselves in the king-sized bed and Isabella falls blissfully into slumber. I simply lie there, watching her breathe, thinking over what we've done.

What I've done.

Call me Bella, she had told me. To which I wanted very desperately to reply, Call me Hades.

To hear her say my name.

To have it fall from her lips without reservation...

But that will never happen.

How would this beautiful, lovely, utterly magnificent woman feel if I were to tell her now that it is not Edward Cullen she's been so intimate with, but the god of Hell?

My phone buzzes against the side table. As I begrudgingly reach for it, I vaguely recall it going off several times since the day began but obviously had much more important matters happening. I lift it to see Emmett's number flashing on the screen then set it back down and look over to check on Isabella once again.

The only thing I want to focus on right now is her - the woman sleeping next to me whose breathing is slow, like a well-timed symphony of calm and beauty.

Logic insists that we can't stay here forever, I realize, but I'm beginning to believe that perhaps we could go. The two of us. Disappear from the likes of Poseidon, and my father, and her silly jobs that make her think her life is worthwhile.

It's not the work that makes Isabella so special, however.

She simply is.

She could be that anywhere.

With me.

"Isabella," I whisper but then think better of it. I lean a bit closer and trail a finger along her shoulder. "Bella."

She hums and my world is bright and good.

She turns and blinks and looks up at me with the tiniest of smirks. "Hi."

It's in that smile that I know, with everything I am, everything I've been or will be after this. Beyond a shadow of a doubt, I am meant to be with her.

"Kiss me again," I beg her.

And she does.

PSA: *hangs do not disturb sign on hotel door* - Thanks Sue for your beta-beautification project. Thanks Chrisann for giving these two the once-over. Thank YOU all for reading and taking the time to leave some love on Hadward & Isabella's story. And speaking of Isabella, don't you want to know her take on this trip? Go find out at belladonnacullen's "Friend of the Devil".

Song for this chapter: Billie Eilish - I love you