Chapter 10 - Hungry For More

Edward's POV

February 8th, 2003

I shook my head and dropped the topic—as I was quickly learning, arguing with Bella never ended well. I picked up my menu and glanced at the sides section. It would look weird if I didn't get anything, and this was the easiest way to avoid that.

I glanced up at Bella. She was completely absorbed in choosing her dinner, and the image warmed my heart. She seemed so content, with that slight pucker between her brows; the way her head tilted ever so slightly, and the gleam that entered her eyes when she saw a dish that she was considering. It was enthralling, just watching her. She was amazing, and I hated how much I wanted her.

I hated that I wished this was a real date. Because just like that I couldn't help but wonder what she would even do on a real date. Suddenly, I had this image of us together, in a much nicer restaurant, holding hands and laughing, drunk on each other's company. We wouldn't be fighting; she'd probably still insult me every other sentence, but this time she would be just teasing—and not in the malicious way she does now.

I mentally shook my head, berating myself. Of course she was malicious towards me—she was the enemy, and unfortunately, she hated me. If this were a fanciful story where happy endings were guaranteed, I might have hoped to change her mind about me. I rolled my eyes internally. I could just see it now; love cracking the ice surrounding her heart—perhaps she would even forgive Carlisle—and we'd live happily ever after.

I barely withheld a snort. Unfortunately, those things just weren't possible, and this wasn't a story. This was real life, and the fact of the matter was, my brothers and I were all playing a dangerous game. We were playing with fire; deluding ourselves into thinking we could play with these witches and not get burned.

I was honest enough with myself to admit I was gone already, though despite my perfect memory I couldn't remember exactly when I'd fallen so hard. And my brothers were just as done for as I was. It was ridiculous really. We'd all fallen for the three women we could never have—no matter how my brothers deluded themselves otherwise—and sooner or later our carefully built house of cards was going to come crashing down. Probably because Bella hit it with a wrecking ball.

I sighed silently. She seemed like she'd enjoy actually doing that.

Bella smirked and looked up from her menu "I'm going to get the mushroom ravioli, you'll get the…chicken parm with the caesar salad."

She put down her menu and I looked at her curiously. "Why that specifically?" I asked. The menu had ridiculous pictures of their items and those two didn't look particularly…appetising. Though perhaps I was biased. Still, I couldn't understand a single thing she did—what I wouldn't give for just a glimpse into her mind.

"Because it looks good, and you're not going to eat anything, so I might as well." She shrugged. "You're paying so why wouldn't I go all out?"

I nodded; though I hated to admit it, that was actually a good idea. It would definitely look conspicuous if I got a snack while she had a full meal. "I didn't take you as the type to be able to eat two whole plates," I teased. There was something about pushing her buttons that was so irresistible, even if she did take chunks out of me in return. "I'm a bit surprised, you seem so…" I trailed off when her eyes narrowed.

"Okay, first; I could get easily offended by that—don't make me break you in public. Second, we're supposed to be at war, and you're not observant enough to ever notice how much my sisters and I eat?" She rolled her eyes.

"As witches, we burn more calories than humans. So we need to eat more—sometimes a lot more 'cause using magic isn't easy. We don't just mumble a few words and poof! Pumpkin carriage and horses, I did a lot of magic earlier, so I'm hungry—deal with it," she said unapologetically.

I did notice, I thought to myself, but you always tell me more when you're correcting me. So if I can get more information out of you by playing the idiot…

The waitress, who'd heard all about us from the gossipy hostess and was eager to see the 'handsome man and bitchy woman', came up to our table. "Hi! My name is Samantha—what can I get you tonight?" she asked, leaning forward suggestively. I didn't even need to read her mind to know what she was thinking as she eyed me like a piece of meat.

I'm so much cuter than this mousey little thing. Her thoughts were revolting. CC said she's clingy AF, so maybe I'll slip him my number on the bill.

How could she possibly think she even held a candle to Bella? Sure she probably wouldn't throw chairs at me, but if I wanted a doormat I'd go for any of the women who threw themselves at me at school.

I glanced at Bella and was slightly alarmed to see that ominous violet seeping into her irises. I needed to settle this before she blew up the restaurant. I very deliberately looked away from the waitress and grabbed Bella's hand, interlacing our fingers.

She looked at our intertwined hands and then at me, her expression unreadable. Thankfully the slowly deadly violet receded, but she still looked as though she were debating the best method of torture to practice on the waitress.

She turned slowly to the waitress, a sudden smile on her face. She cleared her throat loudly, ubsubtlely. "Eh hem! Yes, Chlamydia—I mean Samantha—sorry—I'm going to have the mushroom ravioli, and my boyfriend will have the…chicken parm with the caesar salad." Bella tilted her head, smiling innocently even as her eyes promised unbelievable pain.

I wisely decided to let that little jab at the waitress slide. I wanted to keep her civil tonight, after all. Besides, something told me if I bothered to scold her for this, she'd just hate the girl—and me—even more. Even if the waitress didn't really deserve to be the recipient of Bella's ire.

You bitch, the girl thought furiously, flushing red, and didn't write it down as she looked towards me again. Is he really going to let her order for him?

She was hoping I'd contradict Bella or ask for her number as she smiled suggestively at me. As if. "Are you sure there isn't anything else I can get for you?" she said, attempting to smile at me coyly.

Now I was getting irritated. Bella had clearly shown we were here together, and yet she was still throwing herself at me. What's it going to take to convince you I would never choose you over her? I wanted to snap at the waitress. Bella wants me dead on a good day, and I'd still choose her over anyone else.

The waitress bit her lip. "I'm sure I could get you something on the house? If you'd like."

I restrained myself from curling my lip. Scratch that original thought. She's all yours, Bella.

Bella's eyes flashed violet again, startling the girl. The waitress tried to convince herself it was a trick of the light, even as her fear began to rise. There was something in Bella's eyes that made her want to run.

I settled back into my chair. This was definitely not going to end well. Bella was always at her most malicious when she was verbally attacking someone.

Good, I thought suddenly, maliciously. Maybe she'll scare the floozy off and we can finally get to our conversation.

I instantly berated myself. Yes, the woman was irritating, but I should not have been encouraging Bella's behaviour. Even if there was an old piece of me that flickered to life when she did.

"Do you flirt with all the men who walk in here, or just my boyfriend?" Bella asked loudly. There was a glass divider between us and the rest of the restaurant, but Bella certainly wasn't using her inside voice. Everyone turned to look.

The girl's cheeks, if possible, turned redder—her humiliation complete. She shook her head meekly and hurried off to put in our order. Unfortunately for her the manager had also heard and followed to yell at her. Apparently, this wasn't the first complaint against her, and she was treading on thin ice.

Bella smiled, satisfied as I looked at her in exasperation. "Was that completely necessary?" I was surprised, though—I'd definitely expected worse.

She nodded. "Yes. We might not be an actual couple, but how many couples has she made feel uncomfortable with her behaviour? I'm doing everyone else a favour," she insisted, a similar look in her eyes to the one earlier with the men in the alley, and I wondered if there was more to her actions than just what she'd said.

I shook my head. "Nevermind—are you ready to start the Q and A game?" I asked lowly.

Bella nodded. "Ladies first," she said quickly.

I smiled crookedly and nodded. She was really kind of cute when she did things like that.

"Why were you following me? I know you're in love with me, but that's pretty creepy," she smirked.

My first instinct was to deny that I was in love with her, but as soon as I opened my mouth, I choked—utterly unable to get the words out.

Bella's eyes flashed in amusement as her smirk transformed into a full-blown grin, "Tsk tsk tsk. How quick you are to forget that our little deal is magically enforced. Let's try that again, with the truth this time, hmm?" she purred.

I glowered at her in irritation. "Fine, I was following you because—" I growled, hating that I couldn't lie—unfiltered honesty was not something I was used to. "I'm drawn to you—I can't help but want to be near you; to make sure you're safe. I don't understand it myself," I admitted, looking away.

She hummed thoughtfully and nodded with a secretive smile that made me yearn to know what she was thinking.

When it became clear that she wasn't going to comment further, or explain her expression, I asked my question: "Why didn't you kill those men?"

She stared at me intently for a moment before answering, "Well for one, you interrupted me."

The waitress came over at that moment with our drinks. "Your food will be right out," she said quietly, not meeting either of our gazes.

Bella waited until she was far enough away before finishing her explanation. "While I could have told you to shove it and gone after them, I think a lifetime of torture is better than a quick death. With that word written across their heads it won't be long before they're picked up by the police, and when that happens what do you think is going to happen when their DNA is run through the system?

"Rapists aren't welcome in prison. I predict they'll spend a few weeks, if not months, being other mens' bitches, before somebody finally kills them. And as much as I would have loved to drag it out, it's a more extensive torture than I had time for. This way, they suffer more than if I had just killed them" she said, satisfied and sure of herself.

I kept my face carefully neutral for a moment before nodding. "Yes, that does sound like something you would do. Well, it's not like they don't deserve it," I nearly growled, remembering what I'd seen in their heads.

Bella nodded in approval—apparently, I'd passed the test—before firing off her next question. "What's the range of your mind-reading?"

I blinked, slightly surprised. "Two miles. Alice told you?"

Bella smirked. "Alice—and Rosalie for that matter—tell me everything. What's your theory on why you can't hear us?"

"That's two questions." I frowned at her. "I didn't ask you my question yet."

"Yes you did; you asked me if Alice had told me about your mind-reading—that's a question. Now answer mine."

"I see I'm going to have to be careful with you," I mused and she hid her grin behind her drink. "I suspect it's because you're witches, something in your genetic makeup that protects against certain vampiric abilities."

Bella hummed again and took another sip of coke; by now she had finished half her glass, and a quarter of mine. She glanced to the side and pushed the half-empty glass towards me. As she did, the waitress came hurrying around the corner, carrying our food. She placed them on the table quickly, avoiding our eyes entirely.

Her manager had warned her to be on her best behaviour; however, her fear of receiving another verbal lashing from Bella was what truly motivated her to keep her mouth shut. She was desperate to leave, but she still had to ask: "Is there anything else I can get you?"

Bella turned to her slowly, a smile on her face and she tapped her fingers on the table, drawing the moment out. She let her squirm, before lifting her glass. "Could we get some more drinks, please?"

The woman darted off and Bella turned to her food. She speared two ravioli and popped them into her mouth. I waited for her to swallow before asking my question: "What are your thoughts on our siblings getting together?"

I was convinced she saw this as an opportunity to tear my family apart by pitting my brothers against the rest of us. Even if I hoped she wouldn't.

"My sisters could do better, but I don't care so long as they're happy," she admitted. Except she didn't look particularly pleased to have to do so, which confused me. Why would she be upset about admitting to being happy for her sisters?

"How many years have you existed for?" she asked, before popping in two more ravioli and switching our glasses. I furrowed my brow (when the hell did she finish that glass?). I was both impressed, and concerned that I hadn't noticed.

I analysed her question for a moment before admitting—if only to myself—that, if she'd phrased the question differently, I would have simply said seventeen, and I suspected she knew that.

"I'm 102 years old." I said, watching her face for any hint of shock; there was none, she simply nodded before she continued eating.

"What was that book you were looking through in the car?" I was extremely curious about it. It looked old, though when I had tried to glance at the pages the words seemed to be some type of nonsensical language that had no rhyme or reason to them.

She huffed for a moment and drained the last of her coke before answering. "It's a Grimoire, our bloodline grimoire."

She took a deep breath, like she was holding something back. What, I couldn't be sure, but before I could think more on it, Bella was onto her next question: "What do you remember of your human life?"

I stared at her for a long moment, wondering why she would ask such a question. It certainly wasn't because she actually cared to know anything about me—at least not anything she couldn't use against me.

"Not much; I remember that I wanted to be a soldier. My father was a lawyer, and my mother's name was Elizabeth. I remember they gave me everything," I looked down at my untouched plate of food, "But everything else… Sometimes I think I can remember her voice, but I'm not sure if that's real, or just my imagination."

Bella looked wistfully into the distance, clearly recollecting something. "I'm sure it's not just your imagination. Voices, they have a way of staying with us better than anything else," she murmured.

I was sure this was one of her rare unguarded moments. I opened my mouth to say something, but the moment was immediately shattered by the waitress bringing us our second round of drinks. Bella blinked and shook her head slightly.

I sighed in frustration. "What was your favourite memory of your first life?"

Bella stared at me for a moment before switching our plates, having completely finished her ravioli. She looked down for a moment, cutting into the chicken parm. "I was ten, Alice was eight, Rose was five, and it was just before my mother got sick." Her eyes misted as she lost herself in the memory; a sweet smile formed on her lips that lit up her entire face. I was momentarily breathless. I had never seen such a look on her face before.

"Mother had gone to town for the day to get us all a surprise," she chuckled lightly, lost in the memory. "And I'd decided to surprise her as well. I took the Grimoire from its shelf and decided I would teach my sisters some children's magic. Nothing very complex; just how to form small animal shapes out of raw magic."

Her smile was small and soft, gentle and adoring, and I couldn't believe how lucky I was to see it.

"I was so proud of myself for thinking of it and Mother was ever so surprised when she came home—new scarves in hand—to find us all sprawled across the floor like a group of hoydens, passing the animals between ourselves and giggling like mad. Cathy of course had to show Mother the butterfly she had made—she was ever so proud of herself because she had even gotten the wings to flap a little.

"I don't think Mother had ever been prouder of me; I had taught my sisters a three-day lesson, in three hours." She sighed happily, then she turned to me, her eyes bright with remembrance, "Do you want to see one?"

I nodded, afraid my voice would burst the moment and she would remember exactly who she was having dinner with.

Her smile brightened, like a child being told that Christmas had come early, and I felt my heart constrict. Looking at her now, it was plain to see that she had never gotten a proper childhood. Forced as she was, to care for her sisters. I wanted to ask why she'd had to be the one to take care of them, but I didn't want to take away that happiness, even for a moment.

Bella looked around for a moment, waving her hand slightly, some sort of privacy spell I would assume. Then she cupped her hands together and blew into them.

I was astonished to see some sort of wispy purple light pouring out from her mouth, as if her breath had suddenly become visible. With a start, I realised that it wasn't her breath, but her magic in its base form. I was instantly transfixed. She used her finger to swirl the magic slightly, before moving it, shaping it into some kind of animal.

After a moment she cupped her hands closed for a second, then opened them again to reveal a purple glowing swan. The wisps of magic swirled in her palm, but were now confined to the shape Bella had placed it in.

I was in awe. There were no words to describe how utterly enchanting she was at this moment. If I hadn't known before, this would have been the moment I realised how madly in love I was with this amazing and fiery hellcat across from me. "That– that's amazing! You're amazing," I said breathlessly. "How are you so amazing?"

A light blush dusted her cheeks as she ducked her head, before she cleared her throat. Instinctively, I knew her mask was back up and whatever openness I'd just seen was gone. I mourned the loss, but I was also emboldened, because if I could make her smile like that with just one question, then I could do it again. And I was definitely going to do it again. Every chance I got.

"What do you like the most about your immortality?" she asked, changing the subject to safer territory. She popped another slice of chicken parm into her mouth, eyes focused on her meal.

"That's easy; running. I love to run—I always have, apparently. Carlisle said I was on the track team for my school. He had treated me for a sprain after a race once, before the epidemic hit," I admitted. Bella had been open with me, and the only way to get her to open up with me more was to reciprocate.

I sat back, considering for a moment before I asked the question that had been on my mind since our midweek fight. "How did you take care of two kids while being a kid yourself?"

She scrutinised my face for a moment, as if judging my sincerity before answering with a sigh, "I grew the fuck up pretty fucking fast. Mother had been teaching me for several years how to do magic, but we never thought she'd die so young, so everything else I had to teach myself. When she died we still had two sheep and a pregnant pig left—and you'd be surprised what you can do with pity."

She took another bite. "I didn't know how to take care of sheep, so I killed them and asked the farmer next door if I could watch him render his own sheep down. He wasn't going to say no to an orphaned child, so I watched and I learned. I memorised it step by step and he even showed me how to preserve the meat.

"And so we had food—for the week. I used the wool to make us clothes to last the winter. I only had enough for my sisters, but I knew I could get by on Mother's old clothes." She shrugged." From there I traded the piglets for whatever we couldn't grow, and did odd jobs for wood to keep us warm. And then I did the same the next week. And the next. I made lists every week of what we had, what we could do without, and what we'd need to survive to the next week.

"For those first few weeks I did not think we would, but we did. I kept us alive. And then I did it over and over again. Winters were always the hardest, but I managed—I always did." She raised her chin and stared me down like I was going to judge her for doing what even some adults couldn't.

I wanted to ask her why it had to be her; why she had to be the one to take that all on by herself. I knew from Carlisle's memories that she had been around twelve when their mother had died; so why hadn't someone else stepped in? Where was their father? Why didn't someone in town adopt them? I wanted to ask all these questions—and more—but the magic of our deal held firm.

She rolled her eyes. "Don't test my magic. Why are you so devoted to Carlisle?"

"Because he never judged me," I admitted automatically. She swallowed her bite of chicken and looked away taking a deep, calming breath. I could have slapped myself. Idiot! Of course she would be upset at that; she and her sisters died because Carlisle had judged them. "Why were you the one taking care of your sisters and not someone else?" I asked, attempting to distract her.

"Because I was the only one they had, " she said, rolling her eyes like it was obvious. "Are you saying I shouldn't have?" she scoffed and then looked annoyed, presumably for wasting her question, and I was glad—I wasn't done; I was dying to understand her.

"Surely there was someone who could have taken you in. What about your father?" I knew the 17th century had been a different time, but I couldn't fathom how a child had been made the parent of her sisters overnight, and no one had stepped in to help.

"He went out for milk one day and never came back. The second Rosalie was confirmed to have a vagina and not a dick, he was gone," she spat, suddenly incensed. Clearly this was still a touchy subject for her. "And no; no one could nor would take us in. Giving a bit of advice or a good deal here and there to the outcast's daughters was entirely different from actually becoming our guardian. Most of the villagers barely had enough to keep their own families fed, and that was without adding three more mouths.

She sat back, gritting her teeth. "Not that I degrade them that, of course. They could have kicked us out of the village and watched us die. They were tolerable for the most part. Until they betrayed us," she hissed.

And I wondered—for a moment—if any of the villagers were still alive today, would Bella destroy them as much as she still wanted to do to Carlisle?

"What did you do that made you think Carlisle should judge you?" she asked, abruptly changing the subject as she waved a hand at me. "Besides the obvious of course."

I sighed; apparently that was all I was getting. Still, I was grateful. It was more than I'd expected.

I contemplated her question—I'd know she would pounce on it the second I mentioned judgement. Strangely though, I wasn't worried about Bella being disgusted with my rebellion. I already knew my 'phase' as Esme liked to call it, was something she was more likely to admire than be horrified by.

"Nine years after I joined Carlisle in his way of life," I started, settling into my seat, knowing Bella wouldn't rest until she'd wrung every detail from me. "I began to resent him for curbing my nature, and I rebelled against him. I thought with my abilities I could live with only killing the worst of humans: rapists, paedophiles, spousal abusers…I could pick out the innocent from the truly despicable.

"I believed that if I saved a young woman being stalked down the street, then surely I was better than the despicable humans tormenting them. But after a few years, I became…disillusioned with my plan. After four years of justifying my blood lust, I saw myself for what I was really becoming. A monster."

I looked down at my hands like the blood was still there. "I went back to Carlisle and Esme, and they welcomed me home like I was their long-lost son." I had expected them to lock the door in my face; not be welcomed back with open arms. I had never expected such kindness from them, from anyone after everything I'd done.

I looked up and noticed the odd, almost petulant expression on Bella's face. I raised any eyebrow, not wanting to waste my question.

"Your kill count is higher than mine," she said grumpily, implying that she had in fact killed people before and suddenly a streak of panic shot through me.

There is no way she'll try to match my 'kill count'...will she? I scoffed at the automatic thought. This is Bella for crying out loud. Of course she will. I sighed in resignation. If she did attempt something like that, I knew I didn't have a chance in hades at stopping her.

"What's your favourite plant?" I asked, trying to change the subject—this was not something I wanted to discuss over dinner.

"Hemlock because I can poison people with it."

That was unsurprising, and a little disconcerting considering my worries about any hobbies she was soon to pick up.

"What's your favourite animal to hunt?" she asked, popping another piece of chicken into her mouth.

I shook my head slightly, baffled. Even if I could ever read her mind, I don't think I'd ever understand how her mind could jump from poisoning people to hunting animals. "Mountain lion."

She looked surprised. "Emmett told me you liked hunting innocent little bunnies—he said it appealed to your emo side."

I pinched the bridge of my nose and squeezed my eyes shut, praying for a moment of patience. Of course Emmett would say that. "Why do you hate everyone on sight?" I asked, rather than open the can of worms that was my brother's sense of humour.

"I don't hate everyone on sight. I'm just…selectively kind." How she said that with a straight face, I had no idea.

"Why do you act like humans are worth your restraint?" she shot back at me, obviously in retaliation. "You clearly didn't always think so."

"Not all humans deserve to die," I said simply and she rolled her eyes. "The sins of the father, and all that, I suppose."

"I'm Pagan, we don't believe in sins," she stated matter of factly.

I shook my head, of course she would purposefully miss the meaning of the statement. "Why do you think they're not?"

She huffed and surprisingly put her utensils down to explain—I hadn't thought anything would pull her away from her dinner.

"Our relationship with the villagers had been fairly decent after our mother passed. Please don't misunderstand—none of them were clamouring to help us; but they treated us fairly. They gave us good prices for our livestock, paid fairly for my labour—in either coin or necessities; I wasn't particular on which—several families even went so far as to call on me first when they had odd jobs to be done.

"We weren't friends, but we were all always perfectly civil with each other. I was even on a first-name basis with a few of the shopkeepers. We helped each other, to a certain extent; looked out for one another. Because that's how it was back then. Nothing like today where asking for a bit of flour would get a door slammed in your face." Bella rolled her eyes.

"But all of that changed the moment we were turned into the church. Suddenly, milliners I'd done inventory for, farmers whose sheep I'd herded, women whose linens I'd mended—all of them turned their backs on us." There was a darkness flickering in her eyes as she recalled her neighbours.

"They were disgusted with my sisters and I—condemning us to death; thinking us devil-worshipping whores—just because we were different. They betrayed us: threw us away as if we were nothing but worthless trash. Humans are inherently fickle, selfish creatures that would sell anyone out for a bar of soap." She scoffed, looking away and clenching her jaw. Why in the name of Persephone should I ever trust their kind?"

She turned back to me with a glare and opened her mouth to ask her question—probably something to make me uncomfortable—but her magic held strong. She rolled her eyes, though clearly furious, when she realised she'd just used hers to ask a rhetorical question.

I watched her for a minute, contemplating my next question before I realised that the only way to gain her trust was to work my way into her good books. Her good books would undoubtedly come with daily insults and enough cactuses to create a farm, but I was apparently a sucker for punishment.

"What was your question?" I murmured, metaphorically stepping aside. She narrowed her eyes.

I knew she was searching for some ulterior motive, but all I wanted was her trust. So I sat back and waited.

"Are you really a 102-year-old virgin?" she asked suddenly. Her expression was openly gleeful, and her tone mocking. Nothing like the anger from seconds ago. Was she really that easily distracted? Or was the opportunity to mock me too good to pass up?

"Yes," I said simply. It wasn't something I was ashamed of, though obviously, Bella found the fact amusing.

"That's really kinda pathetic," she snickered.

I knew she was only trying to get a rise out of me. it worked.

"Are you a virgin?" I asked irritatedly. Surely, she couldn't have had time to do anything too exploratory—especially not in the 17th century, with morals being as strict as they were.

Bella smirked at me. "Let me tell you something, lover boy. This is the one area where my body count is way higher than yours; in both lives," she stated proudly, and then proceeded to give examples in excruciating detail, between bites of food.

She snickered as I dropped my head into my hands. How the hell can she turn that question into a way to mock and take the piss out of me? Especially under a truth spell. I shuddered. Well, one thing's for sure—I am never letting Esme buy carrots or any type of jam again.

"Does it bother you that I'm not a virgin?" she asked, clearly expecting me to say yes.

Though I was vaguely disturbed—and not a little worried—by the play-by-play I shook my head. Choosing my words carefully, and mindful of her tendency to twist them to suit her purposes—a talent I was convinced all women were born with: "No, I don't care."

Any more and I'm sure she would be able to paint me as some prude who thought she was a slut. But after the last few weeks, I truly didn't think there was anything Bella could do, or tell me that would negatively colour my thinking of her. Sure she could easily disturb and stress me out, but I was too far gone for anything worse.

She blinked clearly shocked, though quickly schooled her features back into a perfect mask. She quickly finished the last few bites of the chicken parm, then switched our plates back.

"I'll wait by the podium while you pay," she said, getting that particular glint in her eye that spelled trouble. It was a glint that automatically made people want to check to see if they had all ten fingers and toes to make sure she hadn't somehow stolen some without their knowledge.

I quickly went to pay and met her at the podium in under three minutes. I doubted even she could cause chaos in that amount of time, though I wasn't quite stupid enough to voice that thought aloud. Knowing her she would most certainly take it as some sort of challenge.

She smiled angelically at me, which was nice—and extremely suspicious—I subtly glanced around me to make sure all the nearby patrons had their wallets. Bella latched onto me and slipped her arms around my waist. That's when I noticed the hostess scowling at us, her thoughts spewing her violent jealousy.

I relaxed because I now knew she was simply getting her kicks by irritating the hostess. I politely nodded at her. As Bella and I turned to leave she smirked at the hostess. I was suddenly struck with an insane idea that might or might not get me killed tonight.

Sending a silent prayer to whatever god was listening that Bella's burning desire to be as dramatic as possible was greater than her desire to tear me to pieces, I slipped my hand into her back pocket. Her eyes widened in surprise for a second before a truly wicked grin crossed her face.

I didn't have to look to know the hostess was visibly irritated. As we were walking towards the door, Bella turned to the hostess, blew her a kiss, and nearly made me stumble by squeezing my ass. I was euphoric and vaguely heard the words, "Lucky bitch".

"No, I'm the lucky one," I automatically responded, realising too late that she had thought the words.

"Shit, did I say that aloud?" she panicked.

Bella cackled her way out the door.

"What's your favourite song?" I asked into the stifling silence.

I had no idea what she was thinking and it was killing me. It was something I'd gotten used to with her sisters in the time all the six of us had spent together lately, but Bella—as always—was something different. For all I knew she could have been idly planning a murder and I wouldn't have even an inkling of warning.

I looked over at her. The window was down and her eyes were closed. Gentle pleasure was painted across her features as her hand dangled out the open window and tapped against the door to a tune only she could hear. I didn't want to break the moment—she looked so beautiful and serene like this—but I was selfish and I desperately wanted her attention back on me, even if she was always pissed.

She was silent for a long moment and I resigned myself to the fact that she wasn't going to answer. The magic had ended the moment we walked out of the restaurant so she had no reason to answer. But there was just the foolish part of me that had hoped.

"Witchcraft by Frank Sinatra," she said after a moment, slowly opening her eyes. She looked over at me. "Why?"

I gestured at the radio like it had been my plan all along. "Feel free to play whatever you like."

She glanced at the radio with a contemplative look. She flicked it on and fiddled with the stations. "What song do you hate the most?"

I sighed, knowing this was going to be hell for me. I knew I didn't have to answer—no magic was compelling me to—but I was useless to resist even the simplest of Bella's requests. "The Twist by Chubby Checker. I loathed the sixties."

A smile twisted her lips and I was gone. She muttered a spell and suddenly the car was filled with the sounds of the one song I hated most in my long existence. I sighed again and she laughed. I turned back to the road and resigned myself to listening to this god-awful song for the last leg of the trip—because there was no way she was going to play anything else.

But after the first chorus, the music changed to the soft sway of Frank Sinatra. I blinked at her in surprise as she shrugged. "I can't stand that song either."

For the next twenty minutes, Bella played a variety of songs, the most disturbing of which was some song called 'Paddy Murphy' by some band called Misbehavin Maidens. In fact, that particular band seemed to be a favourite of hers as she played four other songs by them. 'Grannie's Advice', 'Fall River Hoedown', 'Bedlam Boys', and 'Twiddles'. I had trouble keeping my composure during that last one. If vampires could blush my face would be red as a tomato.

Bella sat there, cackling in between songs and singing along to every single one. Her face filled with childish glee as she completely commandeered the radio. My heart twisted again: how much had she missed growing up—in both lives—that something so simple brought her this much pleasure?

She started a new song called 'Bang Away Maidens'.

Before I could say anything, we both noticed a collection of police cruisers around the boathouse.

"My dad's here—that's his cruiser. Pull in," she commanded.

I turned into the parking lot and was surprised to see a familiar Mercedes parked between two cop cars. "That's Carlisle's car—what's he doing here?" I wondered, frowning.

A quick search of the nearby minds revealed that a man named Waylon Forge had been killed. They were all saying it was an animal attack; their best guess was a rogue bear. Except I knew those marks. This was no animal attack.

I parked in a free spot and Bella was out of the car in seconds. As I joined her, two cops wheeled a body out between them. Bella looked at it blankly before her eyes flew to the next person to walk out: Carlisle.

Thankfully there were enough humans around that she couldn't outright murder him. Though the sour look she sent him could have done that well enough on its own. This was the second time she'd seen him since her burning, and as much as I hoped she wouldn't, I truly had no idea what she would do.

All any of us could do was hope this wouldn't end in our deaths. Because as friendly as her sisters were towards my brothers, for all we knew they still wanted revenge. At most I was confident that Alice and Rosalie wouldn't kill my brothers—if only for their budding romances—but wishing for anything more was foolish at best.

Carlisle shifted uneasily under her stare as he walked over to us. "Edward, Bella," he greeted politely as he asked me silently: Have you made any progress with her?

Even though he'd hated our plan to get close to the sisters and transmute their intentions, Carlisle had agreed to it—if only to keep us from orchestrating an 'accident'. In the beginning, at least. Now, we were all ridiculously, stupidly, and irrevocably in love with them, and any 'accidents' were entirely out of the picture.

I shook my head slightly as Bella narrowed her eyes. When it was clear she wasn't going to immediately murder him, I asked—if only for Bella's benefit: "What happened here?"

She threw me a disdainful look like she knew exactly what I was doing.

"Animal attack," Carlisle said. Vampires. he admitted mentally. There were multiple separate bites, disguised in the usual way—like they took turns. He hid his disquiet well as he continued, They must have slipped into town while you three were searching the Port Angeles area.

I ignored his pointed look. Every night for the past week Emmett, Jasper, and I had been searching the nearby towns for any signs of our kind. Every hour we weren't at school—or mooning over the sisters in my brothers' cases—we spent keeping an eye out, but tonight I'd gotten…distracted.

Bella's disdainful look grew hateful at Carlisle's weak response. She glanced around for nearby humans before hissing, "And I suppose this animal has diamond-hard skin and red eyes?"

Carlisle nodded once before changing the subject. "Bella, you should speak with your father: Waylon was his friend."

She sniffed contemptuously, leaving before he'd even finished speaking—without so much as a glance behind. The two officers standing guard pretended not to notice her: no one was going to stop the Chief's daughter from speaking to her father—particularly when she looked so pissed.

I'll see you at home where we can discuss this further. I nodded at Carlisle as he moved to his car.

I moved to mine and leaned against the driver's door. To others, it looked like I was waiting for Bella to come back out, but instead, I was listening to her conversation with Charlie (half through his thoughts, and half through general hearing).

"Hey, Dad. I heard about your friend." She dropped her bag and sat down beside him at the table. "I'm really sorry."

He nodded, unable to speak for a moment past the thick lump in his throat. "Thanks, Bells," he whispered. But then he caught sight of the bruising on her knuckles and his mortal heart skipped a beat in concern. "What the hell happened?"

"Hmm?" She glanced down at her hands like he'd said she had spilled dinner on herself. "Oh, a group of guys got handsy with Rose while we were in Port Angeles." She shrugged, like the suggestion wasn't close to giving Charlie a heart attack. "I decided to give them a crash course in manners."

Christ, Bella. That's the worst thing you could say right now! I thought, rubbing the bridge of my nose. How can someone so smart be so dumb sometimes? Can't you read the room?

Charlie was barely holding it together. Jesus, he thought. I know Bella is always trying to protect her sisters, but a situation like that could have gone really bad quickly. A fresh wave of grief settled in his mind. I can't lose her too.

"Bells, you girls need to be more careful out there. I know you can take care of yourselves, but do your old man a favour and take this?" He handed her a can of pepper spray. "It'll take down a full-grown bear in a pinch." He squeezed her shoulder lightly as she took it.

She was silent for a minute and I was once again infuriated that I couldn't read her thoughts. What I wouldn't give to see just one.

Through Charlie's eyes I could see her watching her father with a small sad smile on her face. I thought back to her comments about her father in her first life and wondered if perhaps she was hoping this life would be different. If this father would be different.

"Okay, Dad." She tucked it into her bag. "I'll make sure Ali and Rose carry one each too."

"Thanks, Bells. I just– I don't think I could survive getting a call to come identify one of you girls." There were tears in his eyes that he didn't bother to hide. He wasn't the type to be ashamed of his emotions. Though he didn't show them so strongly often.

But I could tell Bella still hadn't read the room properly as she tried for a laugh. "I know. Though I have to say, Dad, a shovel to hide the body would probably be better."

Charlie flinched, looking down at his hands, and I shook my head at her complete lack of tact. Here she was, talking to a man who'd just seen his friend's body and was making a joke about burying one! How on earth did she raise two girls without a single drop of tact?

Actually, scratch that, I snorted lightly. Her sisters would have probably found that hilarious.

I shook my head slightly and my mind was taken back to earlier tonight. The night had been like a rollercoaster, and strangely I was coming to expect that with Bella. My mind instantly wandered back to her comments about murder throughout dinner. Almost unwillingly I felt my lips quirk up in amusement.

It was something I was noticing more and more of late. The monster I had become during my rebellious years was entirely too drawn out by Bella's frequent murderous intentions. And like tonight, there was a darker part of me that was more amused, and delighted, than I should have been.

I quickly shook off those thoughts and turned my mind to something less dangerous. Like Bella's tact, or lack thereof. I thought back to my conversation with my brothers after my fight with Bella during the week and sighed. If they were here, they would definitely say I was worse in the tact department.

That just means Bella and I are well-suited to each other then, I thought idly. We each have less tact than the other depending on the situation. I snorted again. Oh yeah, we'd be great together—if she didn't loathe my very existence.

Bella sighed, clearly realising how her words had sounded. "I'm sorry, Dad. I shouldn't have said that." She leaned in, bumping his shoulder with hers. "You're definitely going to catch the animal that did this." She smiled softly. "And then you, Harry, and Billy are going to go on a fishing trip to honour him."

Charlie gave her a watery laugh. "Waylon would have loved that idea."

I pushed off my car, knowing the conversation was over, and slid in. Before I could pull out of the parking lot, my phone buzzed.

Emmett: YOU WENT ON A DATE WITH BELLA?!

Jasper: More importantly, you survived?!

I sighed.