A/N: Hey, everyone! I know many of you are anxious for the lemon, but you must be patient. Thank you to everyone who recs, reviews, and lurks this story. You guys are awesome!

Love to my prereders, Keye, Sandy, and Aleea, and to my awesome betas, wmr1601 and Katmom. These ladies rock my world. Mwah!

Chapter 11

~ You Raise Me Up ~

When I am down and, oh my soul, so weary
When troubles come and my heart burdened be
Then I am still and wait here in the silence
Until you come and sit awhile with me

~Josh Groban

When I return to the cottage, I'm angry. Pissed off at Jasper but also incensed about the buck. I'm not fully sated—one buck doesn't equal the sustenance of a human's blood—but I couldn't bear to repeat the performance. Not tonight, and not with Jasper's watchful eye on me.

"How was she while I was gone?" I ask brusquely as I enter the living room.

Carlisle sits on the couch alone, and I assume Esme is doing the motherly thing and watching over Isabella.

"She's been fine, Son. It took a while for her to fall asleep. Once she did, she didn't wake at all while you were gone, and her sleep has been fairly peaceful." Carlisle's smile is cautious. I'm pretty sure he can sense my roiling emotions bubbling away, barely trapped beneath the surface. "How did it go?"

"You really don't want to get into this with me," I snarl, nearly baring my teeth at him. I contain myself only out of respect and because he can't fully comprehend my situation.

Esme enters the room, her eyes full of concern. I can still read her easily.

Oh, I hope they're not going to wake Isabella. I wonder what went wrong? Did Jasper misbehave and upset my boy? By God, I'll box his ears if he did!

Esme's thoughts are so sweet, amusing, and disarming that they nearly quench my ire. She truly is my mother in this half-life.

"Edward." She nods to me but doesn't ask about hunting. I know it's hard for him to follow Carlisle's rules. So much conflict in the family right now.

I cross the room to stand before her, placing my hands on her upper arms and pressing a kiss to her cheek. "Thank you, Mother. For everything."

Esme's eyes widen, glistening with venom that will never be expelled in the form of tears.

I've never called her mother before, even though I consider her mine at least as much as I consider Carlisle a father. Carlisle created me, taught me to hunt, to retain some humanity, to control the thirsting. He also slapped me down when he felt I did wrong, and until the big blow out twenty years ago, I looked to him for absolution, and he forgave all my sins. The relationship was complicated, but as such he earned the position of father.

Esme always had my back, was a staunch supporter no matter how far I fell, was a friend and confidant—often willing to argue with her own mate in my defense. A part of me is afraid to draw too close to her—she reminds me too much of my own dead mother, of my human years. In a way, I fear she will be taken from me, although I know the thought is an irrational one. Perhaps the real issue was my dislike of emotional attachments, at least until Isabella cracked my façade wide open.

"You'll always be my son, no matter what." She palms my cheek tenderly.

"And I will always treasure you." I lift one of her hands to my lips and kiss it.

"Edward, did something go wrong?" Carlisle breaks in, his eyes tight with concern.

"Carlisle, this is not the time." Esme glares at him. "Let's leave our son to his mate. He needs her much more than he needs us asking him questions right now."

"Very well. See you later, Son. I didn't mean to pry."

I nod my acknowledgment but don't speak.

Carlisle takes Esme's hand and leads her to the front door. She turns her head and winks at me.

My nerve endings feel raw, and I'm relieved my parents are gone. The last thing I want is to get into an argument with Carlisle over the semantics of vampire feeding habits. I'm the mind reader; I have to suffer with the thoughts of my victims—even those of the animal kingdom. No matter how you slice it, animals and children are the most innocent beings. What possible sin could a deer ever have committed?

My grief over the slaughtering of the buck surprises me, but it's been over twenty years since I fed from an innocent. And I do consider the deer to be an innocent. It's easier for Carlisle and the others to justify it because they don't have to hear and see inside the minds of their food.

Entering the bedroom, I gaze at Isabella, and she's a balm to my troubled soul. The comforter is pushed up to her chin, and I smirk, knowing Esme must have bundled her up. She never slept more than an hour without kicking off all or at least part of the covers.

Usually, I remain on top of the comforter because of my cool temperature, but tonight I need to be closer to her. I don flannel sleep pants and a long-sleeved t-shirt to temper my chill a bit then slide beneath the covers with her. Isabella senses my presence immediately, and her body seeks mine out, allowing me to enfold her in my arms. Her hand comes to rest over the place where my heart used to beat, and a sweet smile spreads across her lips as she snuggles against me. I kiss her forehead and tuck her head under my chin, combing my fingers through her hair slowly.

My anger dissipates, and I gradually gain control over my emotions as her presence calms me. I can almost forget the kill I made tonight, although I won't soon forget the offensive taste or the embarrassment of being dropped to my knees in front of Jasper. Nor will I be able to eradicate the memories of the dying buck as he thought of his family.

For the next few hours, I bask in her warmth and the comfort of her touch. If she has any dreams, they're not disturbing, and the only sound in the room is her light snoring. The other day when I mentioned her snores, she vehemently denied it.

"I do not snore!" she snapped, affronted.

"Oh, but you do, my love." I tapped my index finger on her nose, which she wrinkled up, growling at me. "I think it's utterly adorable."

"There's nothing adorable about sawing wood, Edward!"

"There is when it's you that's doing it. Don't feel embarrassed."

She smiled then, her annoyance disappearing. "You always make me feel accepted. If you're not careful, you're going to create a monster." Going up on tiptoe, she kissed my cheek.

I smile again, thinking of it. She has an infinite capacity to make me happy—no easy feat when dealing with a broody, disillusioned vampire.

Just as the sun is rising in the sky, pale light washing over the windows and peeking around the edges, her heartbeat and respiration changes as she begins to surface. Before her eyes open, she sighs softly, running her fingers over my chest and arms, and one of her legs rubs up against mine.

"You're back." Her smile could replace the sun.

"I am. Do you feel rested? It's early yet . . . you can go back to sleep for a while."

"I missed you." She ignores my offer of more slumber.

"I missed you, too. You'll never understand how much."

I suspect something in my voice causes her eyes to open, and she lifts her head to look at me.

"Oh!" She draws a startled breath, looking back and forth between my eyes. "Your irises look . . . strange."

"Do they?" I hadn't thought to look at my eyes after hunting, my only concern getting back to her. Understanding dawns. "They aren't dark anymore, are they?"

"No, they're . . . a burnt sienna. There's almost a glow about them . . . like the smoldering embers of a fire."

I close my eyes. I forgot the animal blood would mess with their color so quickly. Since I avoided feeding for so long, the red of my irises had been nearly obliterated by the blackness of hunger, which must have allowed my recent meal to taint my eyes much sooner than I expected.

"Edward?" Her warm fingers explore my face, the tip of one stroking over my closed lids. "Is something wrong? Why are your eyes such a strange hue?"

Without opening my eyes, I cup her face in my hands, my lips seeking hers. I just need to feel her. Isabella responds to my kiss, the softness of her mouth welcoming me home. I love that she doesn't push me, almost as if she can sense the inner conflict I'm dealing with.

Our kisses are sweet, chaste, and comforting, not heated and sexual. Isabella wraps one hand around the back of my neck, the other still resting on my chest to rub soothing circles. Slowly, her lips make their way over my jaw to my ear, and she whispers, "You can trust me. I'm here for you."

Why those words cause a rush of heat to settle in my groin, I have no idea, but I roll us, covering her body with mine. I ghost my nose back and forth along her jaw and down the side of her neck, eliciting a shiver from her. Breathing in her now-familiar scent, I kiss and lick over the pulse in her neck, taking my time. My hips shift against hers, allowing her to feel how hard I am. Her soft gasp causes me to realize what I'm doing—I don't want to make this about trying to eradicate my pain, to use her as a band-aid for my troubled soul. I roll us again until she's straddling my hips, and my hands wrap around her waist.

"Edward, open your eyes," she requests, threading her fingers in my hair. "Look at me."

Opening my eyes, I gaze up at her. She's wearing a white tank top with purple plaid sleep pants, and her hair is a messy brown halo around her delicate face. I can't help but smile. "You're beautiful." I squeeze her waist gently.

"So are you." She smiles shyly. "Talk to me. Tell me what's going on."

"My eyes are this color because I . . . drank from a deer." I rub gently over her sharp hip bones with my thumbs, but it's me that I'm soothing.

"A deer! But why?"

"Because of Carlisle's treaty with the Quileutes. I would have to go to Seattle to feed from a human."

"So why didn't you?"

"Because I couldn't be that far from you, and I wanted to be nearby in case you needed me."

"Was it awful?" she asks, placing a hand over her mouth.

"It was fine."

"No, it wasn't. Don't shelter me, Edward." She slaps at my chest lightly—already she's adjusted to the hardness of my body and no longer sprains her hand on me.

"You're a fierce little kitten, aren't you?" I tease. "Must I lay everything bare before you? Isn't a vampire entitled to keep anything to himself?"

"No. I want it all." Isabella looks purposefully into my eyes as she grinds herself on my lap.

"Are we still talking about my secrets?" My hands tighten on her hips, holding her still. Despite the clothing between us, I can feel her intense warmth over my cock, which twitches in response.

"Yes . . . and no," she answers on a soft moan.

She leans forward, and my hands leave her hips to cup her face. Soft, warm lips brush lightly across mine. When the tip of her tongue traces along my lip, my tongue reaches back in answer, pushing between her hot lips. The warmth of her mouth consumes me, and I want more, so much more.

When I smooth back her hair, she pulls away and looks down at me, the beginnings of disappointment in her eyes. "That's your cue playtime's over, isn't it?"

Again, extremely perceptive.

"Yes." I tug her back down for another kiss. "For now."

"But why? You've fed . . ."

"Isabella, I won't use you to drown out my demons. Our connection means so much more to me than that." I sit up against the headboard with her still straddling me, my fingers cradling the back of her head. My lips kiss their way along the edge of her tank until I can lick at her pulse, the steady beat reassuring. Closing my eyes, I nuzzle my nose against her clavicle. "I want you more than I've ever wanted anything, but not with what I'm struggling with at this moment."

Her fingers trace the shell of my ear before she anchors both hands around the back of my neck. Drawing closer, until our noses are nearly touching, she whispers, "Whatever you need."

We spend the next half hour making out like teenagers with my hands up her skimpy little tank top as I revel in the fact that she's braless and lets me fondle her freely.

~*RK*~

After lunch, Isabella sits at the small table along the side wall of the garden room—obviously her favorite place in the cottage—and challenges me to a game of chess. I haven't enjoyed chess in decades because I can always read the other player. It was amusing to read the mind of my opponent the first few times, but that grows old quickly. I readily agree to play her, and she kicks my ass.

"What the—" I sputter.

"What? You thought because you're some brilliant vampire you'd automatically beat me?" A slow, mocking smile spreads across her face.

"Yes?" We both laugh at the expense of my big ego. "So, where'd you learn to play like that?"

"Grandpa Swan was a Grand Master. He taught me how to play when I was eight." Isabella's smile fades, her eyes clouding over. "Everyone that knew me then is dead—or at least as good as dead. Edward . . . I miss the easy times. Things are so complicated now, so dire. If I ever get Hannah back, she'll never share good times like that with her grandfather."

"I know. I'm sorry." I squeeze her hand over the chessboard.

"I'm her only family, and if I die . . ."

"Shh . . . no. Carlisle's doing everything he can to find the cure, but if anything ever did happen to you . . ." the words lower to a whisper as they choke me ". . . Hannah would be taken care of. My family will never abandon her. I will never abandon her."

And I realize in the space of a few words that I will be forced to go on without Isabella for at least as long as her daughter lives. I'm not sure how I would push through the pain, but I couldn't leave that little girl to grow up without knowing someone who loved her mother.

"Thank you. You have no idea what that means to me." Tears slide down her cheeks, and she hops up, coming around the table to plop in my lap with her arms around my neck. She buries her head in my shirt, tightening her hold. "What did I ever do to deserve you?" she whispers.

"I wonder that about you daily. I'm the lucky one, Isabella." My fingers caress her cheek, wiping her tears away, and I rub them over my lips so I can taste them on my tongue.

There's a break in the clouds, and although it's not sunny, the sky is fairly clear. The temperature is a bit higher than it's been the past few days, which gives me an idea.

"Would you like to go for a run?"

"A run . . . ?" She lifts her head, looking at me as if I've gone mad.

"Your feet will never have to touch the ground."

"What will you do—give me a piggy back ride?" She giggles.

"Exactly."

"What?" Her eyes widen. "For real?"

"For real. Let's get your coat."

Once Isabella is bundled up, we leave through the back door, and I crouch down so she can secure herself to my back. I start slow because I don't want to spook her, but soon enough, I'm flying through the trees as she squeals with delight.

"Oh, my God! How do you . . . go so fast . . . without hitting a . . . tree!"

When I leap over the river, I can hear her heart stutter and pound, but she whoops with exhilaration. Before long, she's begging me to go faster, her pealing laughter trailing behind us like a ribbon of happiness.

And in this moment, I'm happier than I've ever been. My mate is on my back, she's forgotten her troubles, if only for a little while, and so have I.

We reach the peak of a cliff that's on our side of the treaty line. Isabella asks me to stop so she can look out over the rolling waves as they crash, sending up foamy white spray along the rocks below.

"We can't stay here long. See the cliff down a ways? That's Quileute land. If one of them sees you, it could cause huge problems for my family."

With one last longing look at the chaotic waves, she climbs on my back once again. "Let's go. We don't need any extra issues to deal with."

On the way down, she tightens her arms around my neck. Showing off, I go even faster, the seventeen-year-old part of me enjoying her gasps and screams.

"Do you want me to slow down?"

"Hell no!" she yells. "This is better than any amusement park I've ever been to!"

"Hold on, then."

Speeding up, I zoom down the slope that curves to the wooded trails leading back to the cottage. The sight I'm met with at the tree line brings me up short, and I skid, sending a spray of snow high into the air.

"Woo hoo! That was awesome! Can we do it again?"

"Shit," I mutter, and she seems to sense my abrupt change in attitude, her body stiffening against my back.

"Well, well . . . what have we here? Could it be . . . Senator Hunter's bail jumping wife? Riding on the back of the bounty hunter hired to bring her in?"

Isabella sucks in a breath, her arms and legs clinging to me tightly. "Who the hell is he?" she murmurs in my ear.

"Demetri." My voice is icy, and I say his name like it's a bad word.

"Hello, Edward."

~*RK*~

A/N: Yeah, here we go, kiddies. Things are about to get really interesting.

RK is up for readalong at Indieficpimp! They started a new poll, so even if you already voted, you can vote again. Poll is up until the 25th, so if you'd like to vote, go here (remove all * from the link): h*t*t*p*:*/*/*bit*.*ly/wT7iGI

RK has also been nom'd for Fic of the Month at The Lemonade Stand! Poll is open until the 18th. h*t*t*p*:*/*/*tinyurl*.*com*/7gyjluk (Remember to remove all the * from the link)

Thank you all for reading. See you next Tuesday!

To readers of Broken Windows, I didn't realize the stir my recent chapter was going to cause. I don't think I've ever received so many PMs about a chapter before—certainly not so many irate or heartbroken ones. There will be no teaser for the next chapter, but I do ask that you reserve judgment before jumping ship.

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