A/N: This is mid-Eclipse through the end of Breaking Dawn from Edward's perspective. Thanks for reading!

These characters are not mine and all belong to Stephenie Meyer.


A/N: Thank you for your patience - I would have loved to get this out to you sooner, but life was happening this week. I'm so grateful for the kind reviews and encouragement. It makes me happy to know so many people are enjoying this project.

Isle Esme II: Bruises

Charles Evenson was my first victim. I drained him in vengeance for my adoptive mother. Though she let the worst of her human memories fade over the years, I never forgot what her first husband did to her.

Those memories didn't belong here on Esme's beautiful island. And neither did I.

Five hours. That's how long I lay there watching the bruises blossom along her shoulder, her back, her hip.

Peach to red to purple.

When I couldn't bear it any longer, I stared up at the frothy canopy instead.

I could have killed her. I didn't. But I could have. I could have killed my Bella who was silly and sensitive and sweet. Kind, intuitive, and brave.

And trusting. So trusting. It killed me that I'd betrayed that trust.

I knew it was dangerous. I knew that I wouldn't be able to concentrate.

Jacob Black. Jacob Black had been right.

If she left me after seeing what I'd done to her, word would get back to Jacob Black. He would come for me and I wouldn't be hard to find. If the situation were reversed, if he had done this to her, I would have killed him.

But the point was moot. He never would have done this.

I did this. I burned.

And I hoped somewhere my accomplice burned, too.

I didn't blame Alice for what I'd done to Bella. That was entirely my fault. I blamed Alice for what she'd done to me.

She must have known. She must have seen. And yet, she'd encouraged me.

If there was one decent part of me, it was my love for Bella. It was putting her wants and needs first. It was protecting her. It was being safe for her.

And last night, I'd given into my lust and become the very kind of monster I once hunted. I'd taken an act which should have been one of love and respect towards my wife and instead used it to dishonor her.

I hated myself.

I grieved for that last bit of goodness.

Clearly I was evil enough to destroy that goodness on my own. But I wouldn't have known that if Alice hadn't pushed me in Carlisle's study. If she hadn't subtly pushed me all summer long. And a part of me hated her for that.

I didn't want to be this.

You should know, my loyalties have changed.

Is this what Alice had meant? She thought Bella would gladly accept a beating from her husband in exchange for sex? It was revolting.

She'd played with fire this time.

And yet it was Alice's carefully worded assurances that I clung to now. That Bella would not suffer death or permanent disability.

I would have heard it if I had broken her bones. I didn't smell blood. She didn't have labored breathing. I didn't feel any swelling where her body pressed into mine.

She seemed peaceful in her sleep, so I didn't wake her. Rest would heal her and consciousness would only bring her pain.

It was afternoon when I heard her breathing start to change.

Her head was still tucked under my chin and her arms were locked around my neck. I held her only to keep her cool. It felt criminal to touch her now.

I trailed my fingers anxiously down the contours of her spine. Her spine that, by some miracle, had not even the faintest shadow.

She tightened her hold around my neck.

I traced patterns on her back trying to evoke more of a response now. The wait for my reckoning was excruciating.

She didn't respond for a minute. There was just the sound of her breathing, her stomach growling once.

And then she laughed.

"What's funny?" I murmured.

I felt the heat of her blush from her hairline to her neck. I wondered what brought that on.

Her stomach growled again. "You just can't escape being human for very long."

Human. Soft, fragile, mortal. It had been very foolish - dangerous - to pretend last night that she was anything but human. Or to pretend that I was.

When I didn't say anything she propped herself up on her elbow.

I felt her eyes on my face, but I couldn't meet her gaze. I was too ashamed, too cowardly to look at what I'd done.

Her heart jumped. "Edward," she said, her voice higher than normal. "What is it? What's wrong?"

"You have to ask?" My voice was hard, cold. Did she want me to say it? I would, if she felt I owed it to her.

When a minute had passed and she still said nothing I finally looked at her. There was a shadow across her cheek and her lips were swollen. The way Rosalie's had been when Carlisle found her.

Bella looked confused, worried.

I ran my fingertip over the anxious lines between her eyes. "What are you thinking?" I whispered. Was she in pain?

Of course she was in pain.

"You're upset. I don't understand. Did I...?"

Why she would focus on my feelings right now was beyond me.

"How badly are you hurt, Bella? The truth - don't try to downplay it."

"Hurt?" Her voice came out too high as she avoided answering.

I raised one eyebrow, waiting.

She sat up to stretch and I could see the bruises were worse on the front of her body than the back. Her ribs, her stomach. Even her breasts.

As she tensed and flexed I noticed her just barely wince here and there.

"Why would you jump to that conclusion?" She asked, almost angrily. "I've never been better than I am now."

Here she was, looking exactly like a battered woman, trying to act like she wasn't in pain. Trying to make me, her abuser, feel better.

Well, there you go, Edward, I thought darkly, at least she's not going to leave you.

I closed my eyes. "Stop that."

"Stop what?" She demanded.

"Stop acting like I'm not a monster for having agreed to this."

"Edward! Don't ever say that," she whispered, upset.

"Look at yourself, Bella," I spat, never opening my eyes. "Then tell me I'm not a monster."

She gasped.

What had surprised her? The extent of her injuries?

"Why am I covered in feathers?" She asked confused.

I exhaled impatiently. "I bit a pillow. Or two. That's not what I'm talking about."

"You... bit a pillow? Why?"

My eyes snapped open. "Look, Bella!" I nearly growled. I couldn't stand the horrible anticipation anymore. Very gingerly, I took her hand and stretched her arm out. "Look at that."

She looked at her forearm first and then all the way up to her shoulder. The large purple bruises were impossible to miss even under the dusting of down. With confusion clear in her face, she poked the discoloration on her left forearm.

I winced, certain the area would be tender.

So lightly that I was barely touching her, I placed my hand against the bruises on her arm, one at a time, matching my long fingers to the pattern.

"Oh," she said.

I knew exactly when I'd given her these particular bruises. When I'd been overcome almost entirely by my feral nature and pinned her, completely unnecessarily, down on the bed.

Her face was blank as she stared at the mark of my hand.

I was wracked with guilt as she made sense of what I - her husband - had done to her.

"I'm... so sorry, Bella," I whispered. "I knew better than this. I should not have - " the sound got caught in my throat in my revulsion. "I am more sorry than I can tell you."

I threw my arm over my face and became perfectly still. I felt so much shame. It wasn't the first time I'd hurt her, but in those other incidents, I could at least make the weak excuse that I'd been trying to protect her. When she'd hit her head on the ice when I'd pulled her out of the way of the van. When I'd thrown her into shattered crystal on her birthday.

But this... this abuse was committed in my pursuit of carnal pleasure.

No, I should never have agreed to something so dangerous. But I did and I'd met her demand in the water. We tried and succeeded. Bella's needs were fully met.

I'd followed Carlisle's advice and I didn't hurt her. Not in the water. I was almost certain of that.

The brutality came later when I deviated from my plans and preparation because I would not be denied. I would have my pleasure, too. At any cost.

So selfish was I that the idea of stopping hadn't even occurred to me. As if I were human.

And I wasn't human. Bella and I were not the same.

I felt her fingers first on my arm and then my wrist. She attempted to pull.

I didn't comply.

"Edward."

I didn't move.

"Edward?"

She sighed. "I'm not sorry, Edward. I'm... I can't even tell you. I'm so happy. That doesn't cover it. Don't be angry. Don't. I'm really f-"

"Do not say the word fine," I snapped. "If you value my sanity, do not say that you are fine."

"But I am," she whispered.

"Bella," I pleaded. "Don't."

I quite literally wanted to hurt myself over what I'd done to her. I deserved Jane's wrath for each day Bella bore these bruises. Well, really I deserved much worse than that. To not even get the slightest verbal reprimand from Bella...

"No. You don't, Edward," she ordered sharply.

I moved my arm so I could read her face. Was she finally starting to understand?

"Don't ruin this," she said, looking me straight in the eye. "I. Am. Happy."

"I've already ruined this," I whispered.

"Cut it out," she insisted.

I ground my teeth together. It had been the lesser track running through my head, but of course I couldn't overlook how much this had meant to Bella. How much it had meant to me. This was supposed to be the pinnacle of her physical human experience and I'd been oafish and bumbling. And I'd once mocked Jacob Black's romantic ineptitude...

I had failed her. In so many ways.

"Ugh!" She groaned. "Why can't you just read my mind already? It's so inconvenient to be a mental mute!"

I looked at her surprised, curious in spite of myself. "That's a new one. You love that I can't read your mind."

"Not today."

"Why?"

She threw her hands up in frustration, her palms falling back against my chest with a smack. "Because all this angst would be completely unnecessary if you could see how I feel right now! Or five minutes ago, anyway. I was perfectly happy. Totally and completely blissed out. Now - well, I'm sort of pissed, actually."

"You should be angry at me," I said, latching onto the only part that made sense.

"Well, I am. Does that make you feel better?"

I sighed. "No. I don't think anything could make me feel better now." I felt like curling up in a ball and berating myself for a few hours. At least if she had been furious over what I'd done, I could have gotten down on my knees and begged for her forgiveness. I would have some action, some price to pay for my sins. There could be some small degree of balance in the universe.

"That," she snapped. "That right there is why I'm angry. You are killing my buzz, Edward."

I rolled my eyes and shook my head.

Bella took a deep breath.

"We knew this was going to be tricky," she said, her voice soft now. Gentle. "I thought that was assumed. And then - well, it was a lot easier than I thought it would be. And this is really nothing." She brushed her fingers along her arm. "I think for a first time, not knowing what to expect, we did amazing. With a little practice -" She cut off abruptly, watching my face warily as I processed her words.

Practice? As if this was ever going to happen again. And wait -

"Assumed?" I asked, livid. "Did you expect this, Bella? Were you anticipating I would hurt you? Were you thinking it would be worse? Do you consider the experiment a success because you can walk away from it? No broken bones - that equals a victory?"

Of course I should have expected this. Hadn't I already flagged her masochistic tendencies? Didn't she have a very specific type? Monsters thousands of times stronger than her? And the aggressive way she'd intertwined herself with Jacob Black during that vile kiss at the campsite. Perhaps that was why she'd chosen me. She'd escaped that escapade unscathed. Now that wasn't very exciting at all.

So much for the healing of past wounds.

She watched me closely, waiting. Perhaps I was being a little ridiculous. It wasn't at all fair to blame this on her. No, of course she hadn't enjoyed being bludgeoned. This was her being kind. Just a misguided attempt to make me feel better.

When she finally spoke, she did so very slowly and carefully. "I didn't know what to expect - but I definitely did not expect how... how... just wonderful and perfect it was." Her voice dropped to a whisper, her eyes slipped from mine down to her hands. "I mean, I don't know how it was for you, but it was like that for me."

Though I had done it countless times before, I was particularly careful now as I lifted her chin with my finger, trying to read her face. She kept her eyes down.

"Is that what you're worried about?" I asked through my teeth. "That I didn't enjoy myself?" It was exactly my enjoyment that had her looking as she did. My twisted and depraved pursuit of pleasure.

"I know it's not the same," she said in a small voice. "You're not human. I just was trying to explain that, for a human, well, I can't imagine that life gets any better than that."

With the pain in her voice, the vulnerability, it suddenly occurred to me that I was being an ass.

Though I couldn't read her thoughts, if I had truly tried to take her perspective for even a moment, really listened to her words, I would have quickly understood my selfish brooding was only inflaming the situation.

I had to consider the fact that she had not had the terrible morning I'd had. Only minutes ago she was sleeping and before that, I'd held her to my chest stroking her hair until she fell asleep.

And before that... before that were forbidden memories. Forbidden memories of the realization of my overdue ecstasy as I watched Bella find hers. Again. The lustful flames as we explored each others bodies with desperate hands. Bella leaning on one hip as she dried her hair. Bella's sweet release in my arms. Entering her for the first time. Touching her for the first time. Seeing her for the first time. Feeling her tongue. Kissing her lips.

In the midst of all that was our playfulness. Simply having fun like the so-called teenagers we were.

I remembered how she'd been so joyful and carefree and open.

There was no doubt she was downplaying her pain now, but there was also no doubt that last night had been special to her. Her first time. Our first time. An act that made one feel so exposed.

For once, I felt I could truly empathize with Bella. In this one area, I was just as inexperienced. I had wanted so badly to make it perfect for her and had fallen embarrassingly short of that goal.

But for her to believe she had been anything shy of magnificent... As if there was some universe where Isabella Cullen could leave any man underwhelmed.

He would only want more, hopelessly addicted to the purest ecstasy...

She finally met my eyes, still wary.

"It seems I have more to apologize for." I frowned. "I didn't dream that you would construe the way I feel about what I did to you to mean that last night wasn't... well, the best night of my existence. But I don't want to think of it that way, "I added quickly, "not when you were..." nearly mangled by your brute of a husband.

Her lips curved up a little at the edges. "Really? The best ever?" She sounded so fragile.

I took her face between my hands, again with overdone caution. "I spoke to Carlisle after you and I made our bargain, hoping he could help me. Of course he warned me that this would be very dangerous for you." I was ashamed to have fallen short of my father's expectations. Ashamed imagining what he would think as a doctor, as a decent person if he could see what she looked like now. "He had faith in me, though - faith I didn't deserve."

Bella started to say something, but I could guess from her disapproving expression that she only intended to argue with me. I put two fingers over her lips to stop her.

"I also asked him what I should expect. I didn't know what it would be for me... what with my being a vampire." I smiled half-heartedly before sharing all Carlisle had told me.

"I spoke to my brothers, too. They told me it was a great pleasure. Second only to drinking human blood." I frowned. "But I've tasted your blood, and there could be no blood more potent than that... I don't think they were wrong, really. Just that it was different for us. Something more." Passing through the glass. Glass that would be reinstated.

"It was more," Bella said fervidly. "It was everything."

"That doesn't change the fact that it was wrong," I said. And, recalling my ineptitude, I added, "Even if it were possible that you really did feel that way."

She grabbed my chin and leaned forward so that our faces were inches apart.

The proximity, the intensity of her action brought back the repulsive electric current.

"You listen to me, Edward Cullen. I am not pretending anything for your sake, okay? I didn't even know there was a reason to make you feel better until you started being all miserable. I've never been so happy in all my life - I wasn't this happy when you decided that you loved me more than you wanted to kill me, or the first morning I woke up and you were there waiting for me... Not when I heard your voice in the ballet studio" - I flinched, not expecting the excruciating memory amid the more pleasant ones - "or when you said 'I do' and I realized that somehow, I get to keep you forever. Those are the happiest memories I have, and this is better than any of it. So just deal with it."

I was pleasantly surprised marrying me ranked among her best memories after all her fuss, but it was somewhat overshadowed by the fact that so had being tortured - the very horror that had given me the strength to leave her. The unfathomable inclusion of this memory made me more inclined to believe that she was indeed a masochist.

I touched the frown line between her eyebrows. "I'm making you unhappy now. I don't want to do that."

"Then don't you be unhappy. That's the only thing wrong here."

If this was what she wanted, if this was all I could do for her, I would put on a happy face. I wouldn't let her see how my self-hatred was eating me from the inside out. I took a deep breath and nodded. "You're right. The past is the past and I can't do anything to change it. There's no sense in letting my mood sour this time for you. I'll do whatever I can to make you happy now."

She inspected my face suspiciously.

I met her scrutiny with a serene smile which seemed to satisfy her.

She looked at me through her long lashes. "Whatever makes me happy?"

Why did my stomach suddenly feel full of butterflies? What was wrong with me?

Fortunately, her stomach growled as she spoke. A task. A distraction.

"You're hungry," I said quickly. I jumped out of bed and darted to my trunk, stirring up a cloud of feathers. I had on a pair of khaki pants in another second.

"So, why exactly did you decide to ruin Esme's pillows?" Bella asked, sitting up and shaking feathers from her hair.

"I don't know if I decided to do anything last night," I muttered, sweeping my fingers through my hair to dislodge my own feathers. "We're just lucky it was the pillows and not you."

I saw Alice's face in my mind again. I inhaled deeply and shook my head trying to dissipate the fury before it ruined my façade.

I carefully fixed my expression, putting on Bella's favorite smile, the one that always had her smiling too.

She slid off the high bed and stretched, her arms extended, her head tilted back.

I gasped and turned away from her reflexively so I didn't have to see. I balled my hands - my wretched, evil hands - at my sides.

The bruises were scattered over every part of her. There were the ones that I had already seen and then there were the ones across her abdomen, her thighs - particularly her thighs, her calves.

"Do I look that hideous?" She asked, her tone light, trying to defuse the tension.

My breath caught as I was gripped with agony over what I'd done to her. Over her attempts to comfort me. Over her descriptor: hideous.

I remembered her flawless skin glowing white as she rested on the sea watching the stars. The contrast now... No, she was not hideous. She was lovely, but marred by the monster's hands tattooed onto her skin.

I needed to turn and look at her. I needed to own what I'd done and explain this to her, but I couldn't. My self-directed rage, my pain was too profound. It felt like I was burning. If she saw my face now I was sure she would try to make me feel better and that was not something I could bare.

The sound of her footsteps grew softer until they stopped inside the bathroom. I could imagine she had gone to inspect the damage for herself. I waited with dread even though I knew she was too kind and too forgiving. Even though I knew I'd get a pass as I always did.

A minute went by and she hardly made a sound. Then suddenly she groaned.

"Bella?" I asked anxiously, now standing only a couple feet behind her where she looked into the full-length mirror.

"I'll never get this all out of my hair!" She pointed to the profusion of feathers tangled into every strand and started to pick them out.

"You would be worried about your hair," I mumbled. I stepped forward so I was standing right behind her and helped with her efforts.

"How did you keep from laughing at this? I look ridiculous."

I didn't answer. I kept my face carefully emotionless. That was the best I could do at the moment.

"This isn't going to work," she sighed after a minute. "It's all dried in. I'm going to have to try to wash it out." She turned around, wrapping her discolored arms around my waist. "Do you want to help me?

Truly, I didn't. Not with so much of me evident on her skin.

I didn't. So why was my body humming at the contact?

"I'd better find some food for you," I said quietly, gently unwinding her arms.

I heard her sigh as I vanished to the kitchen.

As soon as I heard the shower running I returned to my trunk and dumped its contents onto the floor. It appeared empty, but I could see a slight irregularity in the paper lining along the left panel near the bottom. Though I could already smell the plastic and saline, I clawed at the paper anyway, easily ripping it aside. There was a blue book - a spare passport - and a handful of small, rectangular white boxes.

Brown contact lenses.

"You are dead to me," I murmured.


I prepared an omelet for Bella, praying I would get one thing right today.

By the time I heard her walk into the kitchen I was fully in control of myself. Fully resolved.

Her stomach snarled.

"Here," I said, smiling naturally as I set her plate on the small tiled table.

She was wearing a white sundress that looked very pretty on her. The loose sleeves fell to her elbows, the neckline was cut modestly, and the hem stopped just a couple inches above her knees. It covered up the worst of her injuries which I guessed was not unintentional on her part. Being the guilty coward I was, I was grateful for the undeserved reprieve.

Especially undeserved as I could not ignore the way the dress fit snugly over her breasts, the way it flared gracefully over hips... but I could flag those thoughts. I could avert my eyes to the bruises on her legs, her forearms, her wrists.

I sat down across from her. She ate ravenously and it occurred to me she hadn't eaten since lunch the previous day. I'd been so anxious about our evening, I'd neglected her most essential needs.

"I'm not feeding you enough."

She swallowed. "I was asleep. This is really good, by the way. Impressive for someone who doesn't eat."

Her compliment warmed me, even if it left me wondering if it would still be impressive for someone who did eat. "Food Network," I said with a smile.

She smiled back and I could see I was playing my role well.

"Where did the eggs come from?"

"I asked the cleaning crew to stock the kitchen. A first, for this place. I'll have to ask them to deal with the feathers..." My voice trailed off as I was simultaneously confronted with both the memory of my pleasure and the memory of her inky skin. I looked over her head, fixing my gaze on the far wall as I fought to maintain my composure. My despair would only make her unhappy.

Despite her typically bird-like appetite, she ate the entire double portion. I felt horrible again for essentially starving her. I wouldn't let that happen again.

"Thank you," she said. She leaned across the table to kiss me. I kissed her back automatically, but then stiffened and pulled away.

Kissing Bella had never been an ordinary thing - even the smallest peck was electric - but something had changed. It was like my entire nervous system had been rewired. I was momentarily reminded of how hard it had been to give up human blood once I had tasted it. Rediscovering my celibacy would be harder, but I was a lot stronger now.

She gritted her teeth. "You aren't going to touch me again while we're here, are you?" She accused.

I hesitated. No, sex was out of the question. But I considered her question literally, too. Of course I would need to keep her cool at night. I would need to carry her a fair amount in order to get around the island. But aside from the necessities...

I half-smiled and stroked her cheek as if she was as fragile as thin glass, just as I had in those very early days. My fingers lingered on her soft skin and she leaned her face into my palm. So trusting.

"You know that's not what I meant," she said, her voice gentler now.

I sighed and dropped my hand. "I know. And you're right." I paused. I needed to project strength, conviction. She needed to understand I would be unwavering on this front. "I will not make love with you until you've been changed. I will never hurt you again."


A/N: Next up, black lace...