A/N: Sorry for the wait on this one! I just got a new job so I've been super busy this week!

Thanks, Sally! I couldn't do this without your eyes!

Crashed

After a few weeks, the blood bags had gotten old. They had never been an exciting meal to begin with—rather a necessary evil that came with the undead lifestyle. If she didn't want to kill, she would have to accept the bland meals for a while. Soon, Edward would teach her to feed.

Really feed.

As if he was finally beginning to trust her. Never had she disliked his lack of trust. It was quite the opposite, in fact. Trusting her too soon would have been reckless. Human life wasn't meant for thirst practice, after all. Even in her most hazy, faded, and intoxicated moments, she had hated the idea of killing a human by consuming too much.

Humans can lose quite a bit of blood without experiencing any side effects. There wasn't an exact number that marked too much blood loss—it all depended on the size, age, and general health of the human. On average, adult men have more blood than most adult women, meaning they could typically lose more blood without experiencing adverse effects.

Even as a newborn vampire, Bella had been intent on research. There was something about numbers and science that always felt like a trustworthy companion. Articles and textbooks soothed her and, for a fragment of a moment, caused her to believe that she had the necessary amount of control not to become a heartless, ruthless monster. If Edward was impressed by her thoughtfulness, he didn't say anything and, instead, remained stoic as always, watching from her side without a word.

During her time researching online, she found that most adults can lose up to fourteen percent of their blood without experiencing major side effects. Will I know what that looks like? Do I just stop feeding while they're still doing good? Or do I push my luck, continuing until a few of the common side effects kick in?

Edward explained knowing when to quit as merely a "feeling." To Bella, this seemed far too simple. A "feeling" to him, after all, could be very different than a "feeling" to her. While she craved blood filling her mouth before coursing down her throat, she didn't want blood on her hands. She didn't want people to pay for her new way of life.

When a human's lightheadedness began, would she stop? Could she stop? Or would she continue to suck and suck until there was no blood left for the human to give? Would that be enough for her then? Or would she move on to another human, hoping that someone could sate her.

Humans typically have mild side effects—nausea, increased heart and respiratory rates, and decreased urine output and blood pressure—after losing fifteen to thirty percent of their blood. To compensate for the blood loss, the body reacts by constricting blood vessels in the limbs and extremities. This is a body's last-ditch effort to maintain the blood flow and pressure. The skin, of course, becomes cooler and pale.

Very much like our skin then, Bella thought with a sad smirk. So, when the human begins to look like the undead, I should stop.

Blood loss between thirty and forty percent will spark a traumatic reaction. There will be confusion and disorientation. Breathing will become shallow and rapid. The body will cease its ability to maintain circulation and an adequate blood pressure. The human will pass out.

After forty percent of the blood is gone, the body will no longer be able to compensate for its blood volume loss. The organs will begin to fail, and death will become imminent if proper treatment isn't obtained. The body shuts down, starting first with the unnecessary organs in an effort to protect the heart. Then, it's only a matter of time before death. With every tick of the second hand, the human's final breath will grow closer.

"What are you thinking about?" Edward scrawled in a lazy cursive in his notebook before pushing it across the desk for her to read.

Over the course of the past few weeks, they had established a routine. Due to Edward's speech difficulties—caused by something he had yet to disclose—Bella had snagged a nearly empty journal from one of his many stacks and offered it to him.

"It'll be easier this way," she had explained upon first handing the journal over. "That way, you don't have to strain your voice every time you want to talk to me."

At the time, he seemed uncertain, but quickly, he had picked up the new habit, constantly writing her words, sentences, and paragraphs upon paragraphs of explanations, all surrounding this new world and new life. His elegance extended to his handwriting as he wrote in an old, handsome script—a beautifully masculine calligraphy.

Just reading his words, regardless of what they were, made her feel closer to him. Every letter felt like an insight into the quiet, understated elegance that he carried with him wherever he went. The writing was thoughtful and direct without being rough. It was a representation of him in ink, causing her to cherish the journals as if they were classic novels and not advice regarding how to extinguish a life and how to save one.

"I'm thinking about …" She trailed off, shaking her head as she wondered if it was too soon for her to show such trepidation. If she scared him off now, he may never take her hunting. While she had never hunted once, she was already able to tell that a life without hunting meant a life not worth living. Blood bags could never suffice. They were no more than a temporary solution to an infinite problem. "I was thinking about feeding … about hunting."

"I promised," he said shortly, meaning, "I promised I would take you. Have patience."

Then, he began writing, picking up his fountain pen before scrawling quickly across the page between them. "We can go hunting tomorrow night if you wish. I just don't want to rush you. There's no point in pushing yourself when it could be dangerous."

"I need to … I need to get out of this house," she said, hating the way her voice sounded desperate.

In the past, she always thought the idea of being trapped with someone would be romantic and always had the notion that if she found the right person, her soulmate, she wouldn't need anything else in the world. However, the walls were beginning to feel small, and soon, she feared the entire house would just eat her alive, consuming her until she was one with the walls and carpet. Logically, she knew her anxieties were ridiculous and should have been left in the human world. However, even in death, claustrophobia—along with any other phobia—was just as prevalent. It didn't fade away with the breath. No, unlike the body, the mind was resilient.

Eyes filling with sympathy, Edward placed his fountain pen back on the table and reached out to take her small face between his hands. If he wanted to, his palms would be able to eclipse her features entirely. Compared to him, she felt dainty. It was a feeling that she never knew she could be so satisfied with. With this feeling in her heart, she felt protected and taken care of. As if, regardless of the obstacle that faced them, they would be able to handle it together. Edward would never let anything happen to her. In her heart, she knew that more deeply than anything.

"I'm sorry," she said quietly, knowing that if she were still human in this moment, she would be crying in his grasp. "I'm sorry. I just … I just can't help this feeling. It's so consuming. When I get like this, I just want to run … I just want to hide. I'll do anything in the world to feel differently. Even if it's dangerous … or detrimental … and I'm frightened."

After a pause, he leaned forward and closed the distance between them. His lips found hers, and he kissed them with all the passion and familiarity that she longed for. Now that she didn't require a single breath, she kissed him until her lips felt numb and filled with blood. As soon as he felt that part of her body warm against him, he pulled away with a sly smile.

"What is it?" she asked, lethargic and thankful for the momentary distraction that was his lips and body.

He shook his head with a sly, boyish smile before grabbing his pen to write again. As vampires, we can direct the blood. It helps us feed. While I was kissing you, I was directing all of the blood to your lips. By directing your blood, I'm more in control. Not only can I take from the location that I want, but it also helps us regulate how much we're taking. Practice with me, and then, when we go out for our first hunt, you won't feel so positively helpless.

She rolled her eyes at this "positively helpless" comment but couldn't open her mouth to deny its truth. She did feel positively helpless. This was a human life that she was practicing with after all. If she took too much, the entire situation could be a helpless one.

"Try with me," Edward uttered before becoming motionless before her, waiting for her to make the first move.

If this was their practice, she found that she wanted to be a forever student. With him as her guide, she would love nothing more than to receive a PhD in the vampire arts. The idea of this made her smirk, and then, in order to focus her mind, she took a long, deep, and unnecessary breath. This was a human habit of hers that she knew already she would never want to shake. Even if she didn't need the air in her lungs, she liked the normalcy the action seemed to bring.

"How do I direct the blood?" she asked timidly as her body began to lean toward his.

"Think," he said simply, as if a single word could spark understanding.

Think, she thought with a sigh. Why does he think everything about vampires is just so simple? When she didn't move right away, keeping a few inches of distance hanging between them, Edward arched a brow. She bit down on her nether lip, trying to immerse herself in the sensation of the blood that still lingered there. Just think about the blood moving to a certain spot? That's all it takes?

Still hesitating, her face hovered in front of his. He seemed impatient though, knowing just how badly she desired to learn. So, in order to further explain, he reached forward and grabbed the fabric of her shirt between her breasts. After a simple tug, the cheap fabric ripped down the middle, exposing her breasts to him. Lust filled his gaze immediately, and he gave her a sly, crooked grin before bending down in order to kiss her flesh and worry her nipples with his long fingers.

A moan escaped her mouth, filling the air as she felt her core respond to his touch. While his focus was her breasts, her entire body became filled with different sensations. He played with her nipples for a moment with his fingers before paying attention to them with his mouth. As soon as his lips found her pert nipple and he began to suck, she could feel the blood in her body coursing to the spot.

The sensation made both of her nipples painfully pert—especially her right, which he directed all of her blood to. To her surprise, the flesh of her right breast was becoming flushed. For the first time since her death, she was blushing like a human. In this moment, she felt almost normal.

Almost.

However, her insatiable desires and cravings reminded her that she was becoming more and more like a monster every day. As if sensing her shift in feelings—lustful to almost dreary from a dose of too much truth—Edward moved his mouth to the other nipple, worrying it with his plush lips as he changed the direction of the blood.

After both of her nipples became red and worried, he pulled back as if to admire his skill. She watched his expression carefully, finding him both lustful and proud, before peering down at her nipples. They were as red as rose petals, and the flesh of her breasts was pink, as if inspired by a human blush. Cold air danced across her erect nipples, making her shudder before she moved to cover herself.

"Don't," Edward murmured as he held her arms against her sides.

Her breasts began to feel heavy as Edward appreciated their flush. After one long lust-filled gaze, he leaned forward again and continued to lick, nip, and kiss her nipples before letting his mouth travel toward her neck. He worshipped her delicate collarbone with kisses first, and then moved toward the artery he had grown to enjoy most. Then, as if he were trying to give her a hickey, he began to suck on her neck.

As his mouth worked, he began to move, holding her close as they walked gently across the room toward a mirror. Her eyes, which had been hooded and nearly shut, opened as they came to pose in front of the mirror. It was erotic to see him sucking on her neck like this. Her flesh glistened from his saliva, which seemed to act like a coating whenever he chose to feed. It seemed to act as a sort of local anesthetic, causing a spot to become almost numb before he sunk his fangs in.

Is this one of the secrets to feeding in public? Numb the spot first before you bite?

Then, as if feeling inspired, Bella let her jaw drop gently open and felt her fangs begin to protrude. As they did, the saliva began to form. It was strange feeling her mouth water. This seemed like another human function that could be deemed no longer necessary. However, perhaps, with whatever mutation made humans into vampires, saliva had expanded in use as a way to aid a vampire's hunt.

The thought made her dizzy. It was certain that Aro and the other basement-dwelling vampires hadn't used such a trick. Instead, it seemed like they reveled in the pain, enjoying the way their humans responded so hysterically to their bloody intrusions.

Saliva began to pool in her mouth before dripping down from her lips as she watched Edward continue to suck. While he sucked around her artery, he never bit. Instead of wanting to feed this time, he desired to prove a point. He was teaching her as he played with her, knowing this would form a memory. It would float around somewhere in the depths of her mind, waiting for the second that she needed the information most.

"There," he said as he pulled away finally and admired the work that looked like a rose-colored bruise. "Beautiful. You're in total control like this. Let the blood follow your lead."

Then, he pulled back and turned to stare at her.

"Your turn," he said simply before reaching down to unbutton his black shirt, which only made his ivory skin look even more like marble. "Direct the blood in my body."

Now while she understood the task at hand, her mind was entirely focused on tasting his blood on her tongue. Will he be cross if I bite him? she wondered as more saliva pooled in her mouth, waiting to be used to numb his pain. Had I hurt him in the past before I learned of this new trick? Or do vampires not feel much when they're bitten? Do I feel much when he bites me? Sometimes, I swear its only ecstasy that I feel.

Edward watched her closely as she leaned into him, smelling the flesh of his neck before pressing a kiss against his favorite artery of hers. As her lips moved over his skin, kissing and sucking and playing, she tried to focus on the flow of blood. Soon, she would feel its warm sensation nearing her lips as if it were waiting for her to open a vein and suck.

Would biting him now be granting his body's wish? While he was silent, his body seemed to say more than enough. Her tongue fluttered against his flesh, and she pulled back just enough to see the deep flush she had created. Seeing this made her smile, for it felt like a rare gift. Something special and limited to only her.

Unable to help herself, she let the fangs, which felt heavy hiding in her mouth, do as they desired to. She bit him with a soft moan, which vibrated against his flesh. Instantly, she felt drunk from the taste of his blood. So earthy and so rich—better than any wine she had ever tried. The blood was warm against her tongue and smooth as she swallowed.

His hands wrapped around her shoulders, and he made an attempt at pulling her away from him. However, she grasped him with a strength she hadn't before and dug her nails into his flesh, drawing more blood, as she held him perfectly still. At first, he tried to be gentle with her—that was apparent even in her blood-fueled haze—but as time passed, patience became impossible.

With a firm grasp on her, Edward muttered, "Enough," before pushing her down and away. Holding her down onto the mattress, he moved on top of her and kept her steady with the weight of his body. Instead of anger in his eyes for what she had done, there was only need. Lust fueled him as he unbuttoned his pants and pulled out his cock, which was already pulsating and purplish, ready for her to suck on or fuck.

Her gaze danced between the blood still dripping from the fresh wound on his neck and his impressive length. Before he gave her time to consider which sight she wanted to pay more attention to first, he moved between her legs, opening them wider with his hips and thighs, before lining his length with her entrance.

As her hand came up to cover his wound as she wanted to feel the wetness of his fresh blood, he pressed inside of her, causing her to gasp in surprise. His movements were intense and reckless, never giving her a moment to adjust or center herself. He used her body as she had just used his blood until they were both shaking from the intensity, coming together at once.

Cum filled her as she cried out, feeling herself losing control too. Orgasming on him felt divine but was soon matched with something equally as pleasurable as he brought her neck toward him, offering his wound to her. She looked at the broken flesh and the blood that was now beginning to dry before leaning forward and puncturing the skin with her fangs once again.

This time, she was able to direct the blood more easily. Still, there wasn't a grace in her movements that developed through skill. Bella bit like an amateur—too excited and lust filled to perfect her craft. Will I keep practicing on him before he lets me move on to humans? she wondered as her mouth filled with his rich, warm blood. Can I wait that long? I'd like a human today … as soon as possible. Feeling something living had to be even better than feeling something dead.

The idea of a living, breathing human withering at her touch and bite made her lustful. Even after just making love, she was far from sated. Now that she was a part of this new world, she wanted to explore every inch of it.

Will this need ever go away? Do I want it to?

"Enough," Edward said as he pulled away from her again.

Unlike the previous bite, she let him go more readily, finding it easier to give him up now that her stomach was full. Edward pulled her against him into a warm embrace before letting the silence sweep comfortably over them, covering them like a blanket.

After a while, Bella couldn't seem to silence her mind and asked, "When will I be able to feed?"

He was quiet for a moment, acting almost as if he didn't fully understand her question. "Do you feel ready?"

His question didn't sound judgmental; rather, he seemed genuinely curious if she felt ready to face a live person, knowing how much she hated the idea of harming anyone. There was a question he didn't ask that seemed to be hanging in the air around them: Do you really feel ready or are you allowing your blood lust to get in the way?

"How will I know when the right moment is?" she asked as she peered at his wound.

Fresh and glistening, the blood from his wound called to her. However, this time, she didn't answer. If she was going to feed on humans, she had to force herself to practice restraint. The idea of something being so appetizing wasn't an excuse to take more than she needed to.

"You'll know when the time is right," he said before pausing to press a gentle kiss against her cheek. "Do you feel like it's now?"

Am I ready? Could I possibly be ready so soon? I want the blood more than anything … but if I killed someone as a result of my hunger, would I be able to carry on?

"Maybe not yet. Not yet … but soon."

"Soon, then," he decided on.

While his voice was steady and comforting, there was conflict brewing in his eyes. Perhaps while he stayed quiet and contemplative, he found that he didn't fully trust her. How much could an old vampire trust a newborn, after all?

****************************************Snowed In*****************************************

Days passed by in a similar fashion. Feeding was a shared experience. Their blood mixed together every night as they took turns drinking from each other. Once a day, Bella would feast on hospital blood bags, finding them in a seemingly endless supply in Edward's home. She had found a routine of sleeping during the day and discovered that, unlike humans, she needed only a few hours of rest. After two or so hours of sleep, she would become filled with energy, ready to fuck, hunt, or both.

After a week, she became especially claustrophobic, wanting to reintegrate herself with the outside world. Never had she imagined wanting to surround herself with humans so badly. However, inside all day, readjusting to this new life, she felt so far removed from any sort of reality that she was beginning to feel better suited for a dream. Whether she was asleep or awake felt no different. Every single moment felt like some strange sort of fantasy.

This afternoon, she had woken up early, rising before Edward and taking the chance to wander the dark home by herself. Alone, she was meditative and pleased with the way her mind was finally beginning to wind down. The blood lust no longer controlled her every waking moment. Now that her mind was becoming calmer, she felt like she could see this new world with a different set of eyes.

The hallways of his home now felt inviting and romantic—almost as if every bit of space was attempting to lure her to him. Art covered the walls. All styles and time periods seemed to be represented, making the home almost appear more like a museum. Everything seemed to be part of a collection. The hanging paintings. The endless volumes of books. The tchotchkes that were accumulated from different parts of the world. This was the home of a well-traveled collector. Someone who had seen the entire world many times over. This man had experienced different cultures as he crossed oceans and continents, moving from one country to the next.

How long does he stay in a single space? Will he stay with me here for long? Or is he already planning on leaving this city to find his next great adventure someplace far away?

This home felt like the one spot that tethered him to a single space and time. This was where he came to place his treasures and reflect on his travels. Perhaps this was the place he had set up for being able to pass through. While there were many things everywhere, the home didn't appear particularly lived in. If he spent any long amounts of time here, it certainly didn't show.

Bella found herself opening doors to different rooms, trying to better judge Edward by the interior of his home—this small chunk of his world. There were obvious things to be determined, such as his love for literature and the arts. That was evident in every inch of this home. Another thing that stood out was his introspection—there were so many journals filled with so many of his thoughts. Not wanting to intrude, she kept herself from opening the journals and reading them. Still, she could feel every ounce of thought that had been put into them.

Her fingers moved along the spines of books on his shelves as her eyes scanned the titles. Many of them were classics. Some of the titles were in different languages, seeming to be old texts. There were novels in Spanish, French, Italian, and even Latin. There were other titles in languages she wasn't familiar with.

Are these all of his books? Have some of these titles been given to him? Does he really know so many languages? Is he old enough to have obtained all of these titles on his own? In that case, how old is he?

With so many questions moving through her mind, she moved away from the bookshelves and gazed at some of the paintings hanging from his walls. Most of these were prints of famous originals while some seemed like original works. Her eyes scanned these works, trying to find an initial or anything that would hint at who the artist was. However, she found nothing.

Is he an artist? she wondered as looked at a seemingly original piece of a deer standing in a forest clearing. The deer had its head angled toward the sunlight, which was peeking through thick foliage. There was an innocence that flirted with a natural darkness in the painting, which intrigued her. If Edward did indeed paint this, as she suspected that he did, was he identifying with the deer or the thick forest? Was he the innocence or the darkness overwhelming it?

In the past, she would have identified with the deer—innocence and benevolence—but now, she felt herself more greatly identifying with the dense forest and its depth and mystery. In a way, it felt like she had become one with every element in nature. She was the predator as much as she was the prey.

"Do you like it?"

The rich, familiar voice caused her to jump. After instinctively acting as though she were catching her breath, even putting her hand over her heart as if she were attempting to calm its sporadic palpitations, she turned around to find Edward standing in the doorway of the room with a smirk. He seemed almost proud of scaring her.

"I … I do," she said, still finding herself a tad on edge as she turned her entire body to face him. "It's beautiful. Did you paint it?"

Quietly, he walked into the room and came to stand next to her. "A long time ago, I did. Now … that all feels like a memory."

Bella nodded, almost pretending as though she could understand what it meant to be alive for that length of time. Her thirty years on earth would probably feel like the passing of an hour for him. Without a word, she turned to judge his expression, finding him as stoic and thoughtful as he typically was. He had so many stories brimming inside of him, waiting to come out, but instead, he silently waited for her to take in his world.

"How long ago did you paint this piece?" she said after a long moment.

He shrugged as if he were trying to remember and struggling with the date. "Over a century ago," he decided on before turning toward her with a sad, almost tired smile.

"Over a century …" she mused, trying to imagine it.

As a creative, it was easy for a thousand fantastical thoughts to fill her mind. Especially as a creative who loved historical novels. Suddenly, she was bombarded with different visuals of him wearing different attire from various romantic, historical settings. Of course, her thoughts romanticized reality. She only saw him handsome and in the best of light despite knowing his past was gory and gruesome and unlike anything she would probably want to imagine.

"When were you turned?" she asked finally; although, she was afraid to hear the answer.

What if he had been born centuries ago? How could she possibly relate to a being that old?

Just the thought of him walking the planet for that long made her shiver. As she thought of him in old fashions and rich attires, she couldn't shake the feeling of familiarity that developed. Somehow, she felt like she knew him long ago. It was as if somehow, he had found a way to reach her in time.

Why do I feel like I've known you for longer than I've been alive? How could something like that be possible?

"A long, long time ago," Edward answered cryptically before pulling away to move back toward the hallway. "Do you want to feed again? You haven't fed since waking up."

To her surprise, she wasn't as hungry as she had been over these past few weeks. Her body seemed to be finally learning the concept of regulation. At first, she consumed every drop of blood she could, but now, it felt like she could suppress her appetite for a bit.

"I suppose I could drink," she said, wanting to seem more nonchalant about it than she truly felt. While she wasn't burning with hunger, she was hungry. If she kept a calm face however, she believed he would let her feed from humans. He was waiting for the right moment to reintroduce her to the world, and now could finally be the time. "Do you have more blood bags?"

He looked at her for a long moment as if he were trying to truly judge if the time was right before saying, "I do … but the night is young. Perhaps tonight we could try something different."

"Something different?" she asked, pretending not to be able to follow his train of thought.

Truly, she was trying desperately to keep herself from smiling at the idea of a live meal. This was what she had been waiting for all along after all. Live food. Dinner with a pulse. Now, knowing this could be just beyond her fingertips, everything felt surreal.

"We can go for a drive. There's a scenic route you might like."

"What? Do you plan to eat with a view of the setting sun?"

"Something like that," he said rather cryptically. "Those lookouts are perfect spots for couples, after all."

"Couple? Are we a couple now?" Bella teased while trying to not seem too pleased by the idea. Truly, she was reeling inside. The thought of being coupled with a man like Edward was more than she could ever want or imagine.

"Bella, do you truly not know what I have in mind?"

Many thoughts filled her head. None of which she wanted to express out loud. Couples and scenic routes … it felt like the perfect haven for monsters.

A/N: What are you all thinking of this vamp Bella? The vamps in this story are pretty different than the ones in Twilight!