CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

PASSION AND LITTLE OWLS


Carlisle's eyes darken, a black shadow seeping over them at Ariel's declaration. The beast inside of him - the primal, more vampiric part of him - stirs, clawing at him to do more. He wants to do more, but despite the growl building in his chest, he is mindful of the sleeping child in her arms. But the passion blooming within him - the hope, the love - at her statement still grows wildly at the confirmation of just where they stand and how she feels about him.

"Carlisle," Ariel's voice is breathy, soft, and full of concern.

For a moment, he worries if he scared her, but there is no hint of fear in her eyes - just concern and worry. Mindful of the child still in her arms, Carlisle still manages to steal her lips in a bolden passion. The action takes her off guard, he can feel her tense momentarily before relaxing and returning the kiss full-heartedly. Charlie is moved to her hip, but her free hand entangles itself in Carlisle's hair, her fingers fluffing through blonde curls before her palm rests against his cheek. He leans into her palm, deepening their kiss briefly before they part.

His hands go to her palm against his cheek, gently cupping it as he leads it to his lips to press a gentle kiss to the back of her palm.

"I love you too," Carlisle admits softly. Her hand returns to his cheek and he gently cusps his hand over hers, not wanting to let it go, relishing in the small contact.

Ariel's eyes glimmer with understanding, love and relief as he returns the sentiment. She smiles softly, neither of them having the nerve to break contact nor break the trance that they've entered.

"I have to get Charlie to bed," Ariel finally speaks up softly. Her fingertips brush against his cheek, leaving sparks in its wake. He trembles at the way her nails gently scrape against his skin, trailing soft circles. She doesn't make any effort to pull away.

"I don't want to leave you," Carlisle lightly protests before he can stop himself, his instincts being harder to ignore at the acceptance of their relationship. He doesn't want to leave her - he wants to stay with her, hold her, make sure that she is okay.

Ariel's fingers make their way to his scalp as she combs through soft blonde curls, humming softly, "Charlie is staying with me the whole weekend, I have a responsibility to him so nothing will - escalate - between us if you choose to stay."

The breathy tone in her voice as she speaks makes him stir as she looks at him with want in her eyes. The tension stretches between them as they both try to hold themselves back, to not lose themselves in each other the way that they want to, to give in to their desires, as they struggle to be the grown adults that they are.

She gently bites at her bottom lip in thought, seemingly oblivious to the way the action affects him.

"But," she continues, her tongue darting out to lick against her lips; this time she does notice the way it affects Carlisle, a coy smile stretching on her lips, "You are more than welcome to stay here with us."

"Darling," Carlisle purrs, amusement twinkling in his darkened eyes, "I'm not sure if that is a very good idea at the moment."

Ariel laughs, the melodic sound surrounding them. She stops immediately, her laughter turning into soft giggles as Charlie stirs at all the noise. A flush spreads across her cheeks as she adjusts her grip on Charlie with one hand. Another goes to tuck her locks of hair that have strayed out of place. A nervous fluttering arises in her stomach, a shy smile replacing the more confident one as she realizes that she may overstep her boundaries.

"Yes - I suppose you're right."

Carlisle eyes the way that her flush spreads down her neck, briefly wondering just how far down it goes before his eyes go back to hers. Desperately - very desperately - he does not want to leave her. He wants to stay, even if nothing but sweet moments would arise from staying. But he knows, from the crawling want that scratches under his skin and wants nothing more than to hold her, that it would be too dangerous and risky to stay. Especially with Charlie staying with her.

"Perhaps another time, dear." Carlisle suggests as he tries to reign himself back.

Disappointment flashes in her eyes and it makes his heart ache, but she gives a soft, almost sad smile.

"Of course, Carlisle. I'll see you another time, then."

A quick kiss is pressed to his cheek, just at the corner of his mouth, before she's gone in a flash, the front shut in front of him. Carlisle stands there for a moment, almost as if something would change, before he heads back to his family, cursing himself internally.


Ariel slinks against the front door, leaning her head back with closed eyes as she sighs heavily, trying to get a hold of herself and the twisting fluttering in her gut. A sudden exhaustion sets in her bones and she tiredly looks at the child in her arms with a soft smile. A small fluttering of his eyelids makes her raise an eyebrow, looking at him closely with suspicion rising in her chest. The hand holding him goes to his sides and her fingertips tickle his stomach, immediately Charlie bursts into a series of giggles.

"Little owl…" Ariel's voice is soft, tired as she lightly scolds him before continuing with mild amusement, "Why were you pretending to be asleep, little bird?"

She stops tickling him, looking at him expectedly with a grin. Charlie's large eyes blink innocently at her with a pout as he realizes that he got caught. Small fists cling to her shirt tightly as he curls against her, he buries his face into her, his voice muffled.

"I get carried to bed," Charlie's answer is simple, direct, and full of innocence.

Ariel's laughter fills the room, her chest feeling lighter as the tension building in her dissolves. Ariel's eyes gleam with adoration and love as she tickles his stomach playfully, "Little one, if you wanted to be carried, you could have asked."

Charlie yawns and stretches in her arms, batting his eyelashes as he shyly admits that he didn't think that anyone would say yes if he asked. Ariel hums in amusement as she adjusts her grip on him. Her birds swoop down from the nest that they've built in one of her plants and flutter around her shoulders curiously.

"If a certain little bird is awake," Ariel continues, "Then that means a bath and a good stretch before bed."

Charlie protests lightly, whining as he mumbles that he should have never been caught. But a nightly routine is a nightly routine - if Charlie is awake, then she doesn't feel as bad about giving him a bath before bed.

A good stretch with his wings would do him good after keeping them in all day; a growing bird needs to exercise their wings as they grow. He's not flying yet, but considering that he is still so young and the first hybrid in a long time, no one is sure when he will be able to fly. While it worries Amenadiel - and relieves Linda, who is stressed about the idea of such a small boy flying around carelessly - Ariel insists on the idea that his wings simply aren't big enough yet to carry his weight. She may not know children, hybrid children even more so, she does know birds.

She carries him up toward the bathroom, briefly glancing through the windows of the living room as she spots movement through the treeline. Her heart twists at the idea of it being Carlisle - though relieved that he returns her feelings full heartedly and their relationship being defined now, she is disappointed that he didn't want to stay with them, especially after declaring that he didn't want to leave. She's even more disappointed in herself for not taking her chance to explain further on her species and a rock settles in her gut as she bemoans missing her chance to do so.

But there's been enough excitement for one night - it won't do anyone any good to have so much unpacked at once.


With Charlie all clean and ready for bed, Ariel makes sure that all of the curtains are closed firmly in his bedroom before she instructs her nephew to stretch his wings before going to bed. Charlie pouts, but with a swoosh, two wings are stretched out behind him. His wings are taken after his father's in color, being a shade of gray, though are not nearly as sharp-edged. Like a small bird's wings, he still has fluff around the edges and still has its baby fuzz. Compared to his body, they still seem too small for his weight, making Ariel frown.

Ariel guides him through his exercises - going up and down and stretching them out as far as he can as she inspects his wings closely. They have grown since she's last seen them, not nearly as much baby fuzz. She runs her fingers down the edge of his wings, starting at his back, carefully. No bones out of place, nothing sore. Her fingers trail down the growing feathers.

Something catches her eye immediately. While Charlie's wings aren't completely filled in yet, there is an awkward blank spot at the bottom of his wing. She runs over the spot carefully with a tight-lipped frown.

"Charlie," her voice is stern and accusing, "Did you lose a feather today?"

Charlie slowly nods, but his eyes are firm on the ground as he shifts on his feet. Ariel sighs deeply, "What did we tell you, little bird?"

Ariel kneels down, her hands placed on his shoulders, "We do not show our wings to anyone but family. We do not give our feathers to anyone but family. Only the ones we love can understand us, little bird. You can't simply give your feathers to a little friend -"

Charlie's eyes snap toward Ariel, wide and defensive, "-But I gave it to family!"

Startled at the tone of his voice, Ariel blinks in confusion, her brows furrowed, as Charlie continues to defend himself.

"-I got feathers for the doctor," Charlie explains, his voice having a slight lisp that becomes more noticeable the more that he speaks. He speaks as firmly as a child can, looking up at her proudly, "So I gave him one of mine!"

He can only mean Carlisle, Ariel realizes with a groan, knowing that the doctor has an angel wing in his possession - which he would, Ariel knows that he is too observant to not know that it is important, somehow, someway, even if he may not understand why. While a part of her is selfishly relieved, hoping that it may lead to Carlisle coming to the conclusion of what she is on his own so that she is exempt from explaining it herself, the other part knows that logically, that it is not exactly very safe nor smart for Carlisle to have an angel wing. Especially since he doesn't know what he really has.

But the other implications of what he means hits her strongly, a flush spreading on her cheeks as she hopes that her actions with Carlisle didn't give the child the wrong impression; and that this whole mess isn't her fault.

"Little owl," Ariel asks slowly, "Why did you think the doctor was family?"

Charlie looks close to tears, feeling strongly that he is being scolded for doing something that he was taught to do. Ariel's heart aches as Charlie's voice speaks up meekly, "Mama and Da."

He shifts and averts his gaze as his cheeks puff up defensively, "Mama keeps fighting with Da about him in the family. Mama told me the doctor will be family."

Ariel runs her fingers through her hair, almost nervously before she takes a deep breath and sweeps the child into her arms in a tight embrace, his wings disappearing as she holds him. She didn't expect Amenadiel and Linda to fight over Carlisle, especially not where Charlie could hear them. A part of her aches knowing which side her brother was on in the argument.

"I'm sorry, little owl," Ariel hushes him as he hiccups on the bridge of tears. Her voice switches to Enochian, the language rumbling deep in her throat, "You did good, little bird, it's okay. Auntie Ariel is here."

Charlie settles down, his hiccups turning into yawns as she tucks him into bed. She spares a moment looking at him slumbering peacefully before she closes his bedroom door, wondering just how this all will come back to haunt her.


Carlisle finds himself in his study - the rest of his family content to keep to themselves at such an odd hour of the night. It is odd how he may not have blood in his veins, yet he can feel the beginning of a headache at his temple. So much happening in such a short time. A lot to process, a lot to work his feelings through.

He has already been subjected to Edward's questioning looks and Alice's mild interrogation; all the commotion settled as he formally announced his relationship with Ariel to them, going as far to explain that their bond is even more strong now that they've both confessed their hearts' feelings to each other. He couldn't answer them - not yet - on how far he intends to take the relationship. If he plans to marry her and the complications it could bring since she's not a vampire.

Though he knows exactly where he wants his relationship with her to go, he knows that this must be done delicately. Especially since she hasn't confessed to him the true nature of her species; he knows that marriage, or at least something akin to it, is a possibility due to her brothers' relationships with their partners. But there are still so many unknowns, especially considering that he tries hard not to think of what it could mean if the Volturi gets involved.

He digs through his desk, pulling out a notebook and a feather. Both key clues to both his suspicions on Ariel's true species. The notebook is full of paragraphs of notes, some crossed out and others circled, all gathered over his time with Ariel. One page is full of bullet points of importance; he carefully writes down a few of the things that he's learned tonight.

Large family - close to two brothers, broken apart by death of younger brother. Two brothers have human partners. Affinity for nature. Physical prowess of a vampire - maybe stronger. Projects emotions (energy?) Immunity to vampire venom (- saliva ineffective during kiss) Possibility of human hybrid children. Unknown language. Power of suggestion, alpha to animals.

He crosses out some other notes, notes that turned from observation about her species to more personal observations that wouldn't help him with his research - small side notes about her beauty, the color of her eyes, the sound of her laughter, the warmth of her skin. His fingers touch his lips absently, still able to taste her lips against his and he sighs deeply, still plagued by the fact that he left her tonight instead of staying.

He glances toward the feather, picking it up delicately between two fingers. Soft. Not like any bird he's seen. Still gleaming in the low light, as if it glows no matter the environment. Curious. Suspicions build in the back of his mind as he sets the feather down to look through some of the books scattered on his desktop; he finds the one that he's looking for and flutters through the pages before he finds the one he needs.

Neatly written at the the top of the encyclopedia's page: supernatural beings with wings