Sleep leaves me as peacefully as it comes until the ache in my muscles throbs and the swelling of my cheek pulses.
Green orbs watch me as I stretch slowly and wholly, basking in the safety of his bed.
"How long was I asleep?" I yawn.
"Eleven hours," he replies.
I shoot up in the bed and look around. The sun shines brightly outside the glass windows like the last day and a half didn't happen.
"Aro arrived a few hours ago."
"You should have woken me," I say, eyebrows furrowed in embarrassment. "He's a Royal and shouldn't have to wait—"
Edward shakes his head. "He and I both were insistent that you rest."
Slightly relieved, I relax a little more in bed. Heavy blankets cover my body. The last thing I remember was being in this room last night.
The piano, his song, a confession that pulled at my heart, his hands on my dress, a state of undress, the bath, his chest against my back, sleep.
Edward smiles softly over at me as he watches me relive the memories, and I share a smile with him before standing. He's quick on his feet before changing me into black yoga pants and a T-shirt.
"Edward, this—"
"This outfit will be fine considering all that has happened," he answers.
We walk together but separately into the open living room where Aro and Jane stand in the corner talking quietly to themselves. When Alice sees me, her wet tears leaving irritated tracks on her cheeks, she runs to me.
I throw my arms over her shoulder and pull her into me.
"You should not be the one consoling," Edward informs.
I ignore him as I pull Alice closer, taking in her scent, the fragility of her stance, the worry as it falls from her tight muscles.
She whispers apologies, regrets, and explanations. I shake my head at all of them.
"I don't blame you," I tell her, pulling back so she can see the sincerity on my face.
Alice's chocolate brown eyes welcome me home. I missed her. Even faced with certain death, I never once blamed her for a very specific reason. "It wasn't your fault—"
"I left you—"
"Your Mate was calling. You had to."
She doesn't blink an eye at the truth of my words.
"I'm so stupid, Belle. We shouldn't have gone. We should have listened to Edward. We should have—"
"Alice," Jasper says quietly, walking to her side. It's all she needs. I can't give her the solace she seeks, but he can.
I understand that now.
My body gravitates to Edward's for a very specific reason.
His eyes dance with mine as my body realizes what my heart has always known.
Honesty in his eyes shines like the galaxies in the darkest, most desolate sky. Instead of intense bliss, regret colors his stance.
But why?
"Later,"he whispers.
For a brief moment, I wonder why he isn't speaking privately, but then he nods to Aro, the reason we're all gathered here, and I remember our mental communication doesn't work in the presence of Royalty.
Honestly, I'm glad there's no time to respond because what would I even ask right now? I know the truth and how badly it's going to hurt.
"Aro," I greet, swallowing down the emotional vomit that tickles the back of my throat.
He's far from the man who greeted me hours ago. There's no kneeling or groveling. He's poised, composed, and professional.
"Jasper was able to complete the track," he explains, "and James has since been found and arrested," Aro says, flicking his eyes to Edward, who hovers a few feet behind me.
"James? Is he the other one?"
"He is. James Witherdale, doctor of Court 3, currently incarcerated and awaiting trial for your attempted kidnapping."
Edward scoffs and spits, "there was no attempt."
"Edward," I hiss; the image of two, thick lines on his chest flashes in my mind.
Aro doesn't acknowledge Edward's disrespect. Instead, he says, "your presence is requested for his trial in two weeks."
"I'll be back at U5 by then," I say.
"Your absence will be excused for this trial, as will your absence for the second," Aro says, standing taller now.
I glance between Aro and Jane. Neither gives an inch.
"Second trial?" I ask. "Who's that for?"
"Me," Aro says. "As your assigned Royal supervisor, I have placed you in danger, and I must pay the consequences."
"But…," I trail off. "You couldn't find Royce. That was the whole thing, right?"
His eyes focus on the man behind me before sighing and stating, "I would prefer we discuss this matter privately."
Edward ridicules before disappearing. Jasper and Alice walk out of the room hand in hand. Now it's simply me, Aro, and Jane. He makes no move to dismiss her.
"I would very much like to show you something," he says.
"O-okay," I whisper nervously.
Jane smirks. "She doesn't trust you, Uncle," she announces coldly, moving from beside him to beside me and crossing her arms over her chest. "Not that she should."
Irritation stamps every letter of every word that escapes her mouth. The blatant disrespect surprises me.
"Jane," he warns.
"I would like to speak with her first," she says, petulantly.
Aro simply sighs and nods. "As you wish."
Jane smirks and grabs my elbow, ushering me to the front door, into a car similar to Edward's, and then we're driving away quickly.
Jane speaks nothing to me as we drive down the winding mountain. She turns left and then right, before parking in front of the beach. When we exit the car quietly, she gathers a bag from the trunk, and we make our way to a secluded spot on the pink sand.
She spreads out a blanket, kicks off her sandals, and sits cross-legged looking out at the waves.
"Sit," she says, patting the spot next to her.
I do as asked.
"You've been through quite a bit," she says.
"I guess so."
"And yet you have more hope in your pinky finger than some do in their entire bodies."
"I don't—I don't know what that means."
Jane breathes deeply, still glancing forward at the water. The waves surge forward, crashing into the sand before retreating to their home as the cycle starts anew.
"I'm afraid my Uncle has kept a significant secret from you. Royce was a very powerful hunter, more powerful than the Royal Court had ever seen. They weighed their options. Keep you, a Court 6 native with unparalleled potential, or keep Royce, a Court 5 native capable of devastation. Half of us wanted him; half of us wanted you. When my Uncle said they were divided, he was honest. What he lied about was what exactly the Royals were divided on." Jane pauses and glances over me. Her eyes softer than I've ever seen.
"And what's that?" I ask nervously.
"All Royals in Court 1, and those who are plants in Courts 2 through 7, know of the Bond between you and Edward."
There it is. Solidification. We are Bonded.
The realization hit me earlier, so there's no genuine reaction. I simply stare at her.
"We know how you communicate, how you anticipate each other, how your Bond is strongest of all. Many don't care for that. Uncle did say that the Royals don't like what they can't control—that is absolutely the truth."
"How do they know so much? Do they watch us constantly?"
Jane laughs like I've made a joke. "The Royals don't watch you like a television show—it's nothing that perverse. We just… know things. Like the way you know things after reading a book, it just gets filed into your mind. That's sort of the equivalent. Can we watch? Sure, I guess, but the Royal Court doesn't waste their time watching citizens from other Courts live their lives. It's just that your Bond has taken hold of many minds, and ideas are… transpiring. Some in positive directions, and some in other directions."
Jane explains everything very matter-of-factly, and I appreciate that. She doesn't answer a question with a question. Jane provides reasoning and explanations for more things than I ask. Her face shows no remorse, worry, or nervousness. There's no care for the ramifications.
"Edward and I haven't Bonded officially," I explain.
"I know," she says simply, looking out at the water.
She allows the quiet for a beat or two while I take everything in. Edward, our friendship, our relationship, the undefined characteristics, and what that means. When Jane clears her throat, I realize I'm not the only one here who's had feelings for him.
I turn to her suddenly and say, "I'm sorry—"
Jane cuts me off, throwing her head back with one loud, simple laugh. "Please do not apologize. Edward and I had nothing, and I blew it way out of proportion. I can be quite theatrical," she says with a shrug. "But what Alice has said is the truth, Belle. It's in your best interest to not complete the Soul Bond."
I'm taken aback. "Why? And how do you know what Alice has said?"
Jane glances over at me. "My magic changes to that of the people I surround myself with. When you were in my classroom, I could send memories. When I was around Edward, I could use my fingers to get myself anything I wanted. Being around Aro, I could hold your hand and make you speak anything I want."
"What will happen to me if I complete the Bond?"
Jane sits quietly for a few minutes, and I almost think she doesn't hear me, but then she says, "no one can be sure."
"Then how—"
"It's written in your will. Or, I guess not written… in your particular case."
"What?"
Jane sighs. "Each citizen of every Court is produced with a will when they're born. Yours has been looked into extensively, and—" she stops and shakes her head.
"And what, Jane?" I ask nervously. The tide in my stomach turns, and my fingers begin to shake.
"And it's blank," Jane responds. "The whole book until you met Edward at that party is written. Everything after is blank. Just totally empty. Mine? Filled in until the last page. Alice and Jasper's? Completed entirely. But yours…"
"What about Edward's?" I ask, swallowing nervously.
Jane looks over curiously, raising a brow. "He was born with multiple. Another oddity the Royals don't care for."
"How many?"
"He has three."
"And… what happens in them?"
She smiles softly, the beginnings of sympathy etched into her features. "You sure you want to know?" she asks.
I nod. "Yes."
"Will one he marries a girl he meets at a conference. They have two kids. He dies of old age. Will two he breaks the law, earns strike three, and is expelled. Will three he kisses you."
She stops after the bombshell and stares at me. My face begs her to continue.
"Then what?" I ask impatiently.
"Then nothing, Belle. That's it. The rest of his pages, just like yours, are unwritten."
"It doesn't make any sense. Why me?" I ask. "Why is my fate so unclear?"
Jane shakes her head and shrugs before moving on. "Half the Royals were going to choose to keep Royce; the other half would choose to keep you. Uncle couldn't decide," she explains. "He could see the possibility of a world where you both survived and kept you two separated while he figured it out. That's what took so long for Jasper to find Royce."
"Aro was protecting him?"
Jane shakes her head. "Not advertently. He never meddled in the game, but he did make it more difficult—like showing up in Court 4 last week. When a citizen is born, they are assigned a Royal Supervisor to watch over and protect. That is what they are sworn in to do. Uncle was assigned as your Royal Supervisor. He was also Royce's. His trial deals with the lack of safety he provided you."
It's a lot of information to acknowledge, to take in, and comprehend. I sit next to Jane, listening to waves repeatedly crash against sand as the information swells in my head.
"Is he in a lot of trouble?" I ask quietly.
She nods honestly. "They asked me to step in while he's on leave."
This information confounds me the most. "Really?"
"Typically it's the next heir, but Uncle has only one son, and Alec previously got himself in trouble and has revoked his Royal status. He currently lives in Court 8." Her eyes meet mine briefly.
"What did he do?"
She smirks and looks away. "Ask Edward."
Jane and I again sit quietly in the peace of understanding, relieved at some of the answers she's provided but confused more than ever.
Just before we pack up to leave, as the sun beats down brightly casting warmth across our skin, she turns to me with sorrowful eyes.
"I am truly sorry," she starts, "that you are unable to fulfill your Soul Bond. I could not imagine a Bond like you and Edward share and the fear of what might occur should you complete it. My heart breaks for you both."
The humanity she shows, the compassion on her face, brings tears to my eyes. It's mostly because of what will never be, but also for this moment right now with Jane. She takes my hand in hers and whispers into my heart.
"He will never know of this conversation," she says moments later, dropping my hand.
"But he knows—"
"That your Soul Bonds? He absolutely knows now. While you were gone, Edward was… irrational to say the least."
My brows furrow as I imagine the possibilities of what that might mean.
We ride back to Edward's house in silence. Before we walk in, I graciously thank her for the honesty she's provided, even if it hurt. Jane simply covers her hand with mine and nods.
Aro and Edward sit at the kitchen table and talk quietly. Neither look happy, but both are still alive. Aro stands at our arrival.
"Jane and I must return to Court 1. Please anticipate an invite to the trial and make arrangements to attend," Aro explains.
Jane looks to me as she waits for her Uncle at the door. "I'll be in touch," she says simply, the compassion gone from both her face and her voice as Aro walks toward her. There's a coldness that spreads over her body now, freezing the warmth our earlier conversation and blocking it from anyone else. When both walk out the front door, Edward and I are alone.
Exhaustion takes over, so I sit in the chair opposite him.
"What did you two talk about?" he asks.
I shrug. "Way too much. What did you two talk about?" I throw the question back.
"About the same."
There's so much I want to tell him, ask him, show him, but I know I can't. Jane said he wouldn't be aware of our conversation, so if I want him to know, then I'll have to tell him. Right now, though, I'm too mentally exhausted.
"Royce is dead," he says softly, standing slowly and walking behind me.
Edward's grasps my shoulders with his hands and squeezes the tension in the muscles. Tight nervousness and anxiety roll off me in waves as he kneads the firm knots from my back.
"Come rest," he whispers, his lips pressing lightly to my neck.
He takes my hand, leads me to his room, and envelopes me in his sheets. Strong arms tuck me in, a kiss against my head, and whispers of later surround me just as I close my eyes as the sun illuminates us from above.
I reach out my hand, and he takes it. "Stay," I ask.
"For now."
~!~
The next time I wake, it's pitch black. No stars, no sun, no moon.
"Edward?" I panic, sitting up at the first sound of thunder.
"Right here, Lovely," he says from the doorway. "Have you slept enough?"
I stretch and throw back the covers. "Yes."
"Hungry?"
"Very much so."
Edward smiles, and I can see the beauty of his face from the light in the hallway.
"Good. Dinner is nearly ready. Come," he says, holding out his hand for me.
I take it graciously without a second thought. We walk hand in hand to the table where Jasper and Alice sit. They smile toward me, which I return. Edward pulls out my chair and walks over to the stove.
"You cooked?" I ask, noting the delicious aroma filling the house.
He turns his head to me and smirks. "You said you never had steak, so I made us some."
Alice reaches over to my cheek and outlines the swelling from Royce's hand when he hit me. It's sore but not too bad. Her hand retracts as though it's been burned, so I reach out to grab it, holding it under the table. I don't want her to feel pity, remorse, or grief. I want her to feel me, her friend, and understanding.
"Need a hand?" Jasper asks awkwardly, standing from the table.
"Uh," Edward says, turning to take him in. His eyes rake up and down Jasper's body in contemplation. A quiet resolve colors his face before he turns back around. "Sure. Watch the stove while I get the steaks off the grill. Uhm… thanks," he says just as awkwardly.
My teeth catch my lip as I hide my smile. Alice does the same.
That was nice, I tell him.
It was.
Are you ready to forgive? I ask.
He never responds.
Alice pours us all some water, and I help by setting the table. Once the food is dished out, we dig in.
Edward teaches me how to cut the meat and watches as I take the first bite.
Tender meat gives way as I chew. It melts on my tongue as flavorful juice pools in my mouth. I'm cutting the second piece before the first has even reached my stomach.
"Absolutely delicious," I say as Alice and Jasper sing praises as well.
I don't stop until my entire plate has been cleaned of all food, and I sit back with a full belly.
The four of us clean the kitchen and then go our separate ways. It's understood now that we either enter his or my room.
For the third time today, it's his.
We sit outside on the balcony so close our shoulders touch and watch the lightning strike in the sky. Thunder booms overhead every now and then.
"No rain?" I ask.
He shrugs. "Lightning storms are not always accompanied by rain."
Three, four, and five strikes occur at once before I feel the effects. The hair on my arms stands up, and a charge in the air makes my heart double beat.
"We should head in," he says gruffly.
"Why?" I ask, standing to walk to the balcony railing to our right in order to see the show better.
"Lightning storms mess with your senses," he says, standing behind me.
I'm not quite sure the electricity is from the lightning anymore.
"Meaning?"
Edward doesn't respond, something he's good at lately. Instead, he sweeps my hair from my neck and presses the smallest kiss to my naked skin. This isn't the first time today he's done this, but this time it sends a jolt down my spine. Slowly, he trails his lips from my neck to my shoulder until they meet the fabric of my shirt. His palms grip my shoulders, traveling down my arms to my forearms, where he grips and pulls my body back, holding me to his chest.
I want to bring up what Jane said… all of it… but I can't when the only thing I can focus on is the need to feel him, to hold him, to stay forever inside his orbit.
I don't want to ruin this moment.
"Edward," I whisper, but it comes out more like a moan.
His stance hardens behind me before stepping away slowly. The emptiness chills. When I turn to face him, dark forests of green stare into me like he's searching for something in my own eyes.
Within moments, a crack of thunder rings above, and the sky unleashes rain like an avalanche of water. It seeps into our clothes, painting our skin cold and slick.
It breaks the intensity, and he and I hurry inside with soft laughter.
Drenched and dripping all over the floor, Edward shakes his wet hair down at me. Bashfully, I push him away, the fabric of his cotton T-shirt sticking to his hardened muscles, mine displaying cold nipples. My jaw begins to chatter as a shiver sets in.
When Edward notices, he says, "I'll run you a bath."
I follow him into the bathroom and perch myself atop the counter as he snaps his fingers to fix the bath.
"Do you use that for all your manual labor?" I tease.
He smirks in response. "Would you not do the same?"
I nod. "Absolutely."
He walks closer to me, my legs kicking off the counter as I pump them back and forth. A smile adorns both our faces as we take each other in. Tanned skin turns yellower under the dim lighting of the bathroom. Thunder ahead shakes the walls.
"I missed you," I say easily, staring up at him with uncovered honesty.
"You have no idea," he whispers, tucking hair behind my ears, using his fingers to lift my face even higher.
My neck stretches, and I think this is it—what we've both been waiting for. Neither of us knows what will happen, and I can't force myself to care. His lips descend, and a soft tickle of breath as it leaves his mouth coats my lips in unbridled desire.
My hands find his hips, traveling up his sides, gripping his biceps as he lowers and lowers… until his lips are millimeters from my own. A breath catches in my throat. I can feel the tingle in my belly, warming into my center. My legs part further on their own accord to allow his body room.
We're stomach to stomach, nose to nose, heartbeat to heartbeat.
It would take nothing to toss my arms around his neck and give in to the want I know we both feel… but I don't.
And neither does he.
"You have absolutely no idea how feral I became," he explains softly. "I could have killed my sister, ripped her apart from end to end, tore her—"
"Why?" I ask, already knowing the answer but needing to hear him say it.
He swallows so hard I can feel it from here.
Please, I whisper.
"You are mine." Gruff, throaty, and primal cover my body in a whisper of truth.
I used to think I belonged to only myself because I didn't get it then. I don't entirely get it now, but at this moment, I know I am his in every sense of the meaning. We belong to each other for however long it will last.
I am his because I choose to give myself to him. Aro was right. There is choice in this life… but then I remember. I cannot give myself to him in every way I wish to.
Edward pulls me from my thoughts. He reaches behind me to press his hand against my lower back, drawing me so close to his body it hurts in the best way possible.
Chest to chest, our faces retract to avoid the brush of our lips in order to see each other clearly. The most intense green eyes fall onto my mouth, my chin, and my breasts as they harden under the soaked cotton of my shirt. He stares longer than ever before, taking in my body before him.
It shines for him, it calls to him, it belongs to him.
And all at once, it's over. He steps back and sweeps his hand to the bath.
"I will let you bathe in peace," he whispers.
As he turns to leave, I grab his arm and pull him back. "Stay," I whisper. "Like last night."
His brows furrow, righting his body to face me again. "Not a great idea," he says softly but makes no movement to leave.
"Why?"
His hand lifts to cup my neck, tangling in my hair, pulling me from the counter to stand on my feet before him. His height adds to his dominance.
"There is…" he trails off with a sigh. "There is so much I want to do with you."
A blush boils within.
He can feel me.
He can feel me.
My desire. My excitement. My arousal.
"Then do it," I plead softly, giving in to him. For the briefest of moments, I close my eyes and imagine what laying with Edward might be like. Soft, tender anticipation. Strong hands, gentle touches. The graze of his lips on parts of my body that aren't my lips—
This earns a smirk from him as he continues to stare at my mouth like he's memorizing the creases. Long lashes flutter as he licks his lips so hard I'd swear he could taste me.
"If I only could," he answers.
My mouth opens to respond, but I immediately clamp it shut as he pulls the edge of my shirt up and over my head just as he did my dress the night before. Unlike last night, there's something intensely sensual about his touch.
He stands before me, eyes on mine, and nods to his shirt. He's asking me…
Oh.
Shakily, I grasp the edge of his shirt, and with less grace than he showed, I pull it up and over his head.
Bare and naked, his chest rises and falls with the sound of his breaths. Two dark lines taunt me as I stare extra-long at them.
Edward grabs my wrist and flattens my palm against the skin of his chest. A warm hand keeps me there until the thump of his heart beats against my skin. I hold his beating heart in the palm of my hand.
Immediately, I pull his hand to my heart and let him feel the same.
We're two of the same—citizens of the Royal court, Bonded, asking each other how to survive when this comes crashing to a blazing, torturous, hurtful end.
Edward shakes his head. Not tonight, he whispers sadly. Not for a while.
How long? I ask, crying internally.
He steps forward, lips against my forehead, chests smashed with hands between us.
…Until you get your letter from the Royals.
"And then what?" I ask, crying white, hot tears now.
"And then I let you go," he says softly.
There's nothing more to say. There's nothing more either of us can say.
Our hearts beat with love and devotion and honesty, and they will continue to do so, until they don't.
…Until they flatline.
…Until we each get our letter from the Royals with our next Soul Bond's name. Except that's not Edward's fate. He has three wills, none of which end in him receiving a letter… unless, of course, we can possibly rewrite his future.
I'll make it point to somehow contact Jane, visit her in Court 4, and do anything I can to make sure that happens.
~!~
Edward and I stand like this for some time in the bathroom, rain drenching the glass windows, thunder shaking the walls, until he pulls back and smiles.
"What?" I ask, wiping a stray tear from my swollen cheek.
"I've been meaning to ask you," he starts, backing away slowly. Our hands drop, but his smile lifts. I can't help but mirror him. "My friend Kate is marrying Garrett. She has asked that I attend their wedding. Would you like to accompany me… as my date?"
"You're asking me on our second date before we've even gone on our first?" I tease, remembering he had asked me out a few days ago at the lake for this Wednesday.
"I am confident our first will go well," he says playfully.
I have to bite my lip to keep from smiling sky high. "I'd love to be your date."
He nods happily before lifting his thumb to press against my chin, releasing my lip from my teeth.
"Please never hide your smile," he says lightly.
I nod back. "Should we," I start, motioning to the tub.
Edward reaches for the waistband of my pants. Unsure whether or not it's done on purpose, he slowly peels the stretchy fabric of my yoga pants down my legs. The soaked material clings to my skin, making it harder than normal to remove.
He bends to help me out of them, staring up from below. The visual makes my heart jump into my belly and pulse between my legs. Edward knows exactly what he's doing, though, and I can tell by the cunning smirk on his lips. He straightens and stands back, reaching for my hand and placing it on his waistband.
Are you sure? I ask.
He nods. I would like to try.
Standing back a distance, I unbutton and then unzip his jeans slowly, my eyes on his face the whole time, his glance down at my fingers takes me in. When the zipper reaches the end, he grips my wrist in his hand and stops me. His body shakes as it tenses in anticipation of what trauma might occur.
Wait, he grits out, eyes clamped shut in emotional chaos.
When his body loosens, I pull him to me. Small accomplishments lead to greater results. Edward allows my encouragement but separates himself after a few breaths. His fingers circle my wrists again and place them on the waistband of his jeans. His eyes on mine, ask me to continue.
He's desensitizing himself to the trauma that Jasper's mom inflicted, so I help as best I can. Pulling someone else's pants down always looks a certain way, but this is inherently less sexual.
"Try… try on your… knees," he asks hesitantly, eyes on me to gauge my response.
Without another word, I very slowly kneel in front of him, my hands still on the edge of his jeans, eyes staring anywhere but at his own. Quickly, they fall to his knees as I pull slowly. Tight gray boxers cover his private area, but I'm so far from looking there, it isn't even funny.
This isn't about anything but his own triumph right now.
Tense, quivering thighs capture my attention, and I drop my hand from his pants and place them against his legs.
"Breathe," I whisper, noticing his chest isn't moving. "You have to breathe."
Edward finally does, and it comes out as a gasp, but he doesn't push me away.
In fact, as I glance upward, he's staring down at me. For a few moments, Edward takes me in. Mostly naked and on my knees before him, I offer him the smallest encouraging smile. He reaches a hand down and combs his fingers through my hair. Unable to speak, tense from stress, he thanks me the only way he can.
I stand slowly and walk us over to the bath. He steps in, lays back, and pulls me to his body. Chest to back, his arms circle around my shoulders, and we lull ourselves into an easy and intimate conversation as the water surrounding us laps at our skin. He whispers secrets about childhood, his aunt teaching him to play the piano, his secret garden he thought no one knew about, his favorite books. He asks me questions about my faith, my favorite sea creature, and why I wouldn't want to live in Court 7.
And then I ask, "so when do you think Alice will kiss Jasper?"
He laughs gently, cupping the still warm water in his hand and letting it spill over my chest in a calming gesture. The bubbles have almost disappeared after the duration of time we've been soaking, and my black lacey bra sticks out visibly. Pink nipples harden against the cool air outside the bath water and press against the scratchy fabric. If he sees, he makes no mention of it.
"You think she will be the one to solidify the Bond?" he asks.
"She's the one in control of their relationship."
He shakes his head in disagreement. "I don't know about that, Belle. Jasper is every bit as scared of the Bond as Alice. It must be mutual."
"So, if she kisses him before he's ready, even though they are Soul Bonds, then what?"
"She could get a mark. It is not the permanent kind, but she would essentially be forcing herself onto someone not yet ready for the connection."
"Interesting."
He nods. "Indeed."
"But they're free to… have sex." The word leaves me bashful, but I'm trying not to be so innocent.
His chest quickly rises and falls as he laughs behind me. "Yes."
"That's strange."
Edward gathers water again and drips it softly across my chest, the force of a drop stinging as it lands against my sensitive nipple. My breath quickens, and my back arches on its own, seeking the sensation again.
His throat contracts as he swallows behind me. I slide back up his body, rearranging myself more upright in the bath. Just as I settle against him, a very hard, very prominent part of Edward presses through his boxers and into my lower back.
He sucks in a breath, holding it so deeply in his throat that it comes out guttural as he releases.
Edward sits straight up, his back against the wide marble tub. We've lost some water due to movement and splashing, so he snaps his fingers to refill the tub. The idea that we're not leaving just yet thrills me.
Although we're sitting up much higher now, I settle back into his chest, and the unavoidable hardness presses against my back. Long legs cover mine, weighing me to the tub, halting my movements. His hands wrap around my midsection this time to hold me against him. One hand on my lower belly, his pinky tracing the line of my underwear. The other hand wraps around my torso, gripping the skin just under my breast.
"S-sorry," I stutter out an apology.
"For what?" he asks lips at my ear.
In this position, he's much closer to my neck, and I let it roll to the side, basking in the pleasure his voice gives me.
"For… you know," I say, eyes closed.
The tip of his pinky makes its way into the top of my underwear as his other hand reaches ever so slightly higher, so his thumb presses against the underside of my breast.
"I do not. Please clarify."
He's a liar—he knows exactly what I'm sorry for. Playing this game and flirting through our minds is much easier when we're separate—not front to back, nearly naked in a bathtub.
But I try.
"For… uhm… touching… that thing."
He chuckles softly behind me. "That thing?" he questions, his thumb circling the skin under my lace bra so lightly I barely feel it. "What thing might you be referring to?"
"Edward… your… your thing."
His voice at my ear singes me as he whispers, "say the word, Belle."
"Penis," I whisper.
"Try again," he whispers, shaking his head. "What is another word for it?"
"I… I don't know," I whisper honestly.
"Cock." His voice enunciates each letter of the heated word. It rushes against my cheek and down my body like lava.
I swallow hard, my throat suddenly dry. I've heard it said, but I've never uttered it aloud.
"Your…," I start, suddenly shy in the privacy of this bathroom. My eyelids flutter, embarrassed liquid collecting in the corner.
"You can say it, Belle. It isn't a bad word. In fact," he says, thumb pressing against the roundness of my breast, "I would love to hear you say it." His voice comes low in my ear again, followed by the press of his warm lips just underneath, lulling my head to the side even more.
I rest against his shoulder and breathe quickly. Nervousness eats at me.
"I—I'm sorry I touched… your… your cock," I whisper as the bashful heat of my innocence splashes over me like a tsunami.
"I am not sorry," he says so sinfully against my skin the same time his thumb lifts, presses against my nipple, and drags down.
This time I don't hold back. My pulse jumps, and the knot in my belly tightens so deep it attaches to my center. A ragged moan parts my lips as my head presses against his shoulder, causing my back to arch and my breast to press into his fingers.
He doesn't move, say anything, or stop. His thumb lifts to press against my breast again, circling the hardened nub, and dragging down.
"Is this okay?" he whispers against my slick skin, lips hot against my neck.
"Yes," I moan louder. "Don't stop."
I've come undone—raw and ragged—as he repeats the previous steps again and again. My legs close on their own, squeezing together to calm the throb between them. But the throb doesn't calm; it explodes.
Edward stops after the seventh or eighth time. At first, I panic, begging him silently to continue, but then his fingers ghost up my shoulders to my bra straps. He waits for me to protest, but I pretty much beg him through tiny mewls of pleasure. He slides the thin straps down my arms until the soaked lace begins to peel from my breast.
All four fingers curl into the fabric, pulling down the cup, freeing my right breast. Edward palms the heaviness of my breast in his hand, gently kneading the flesh before letting it go. He disconnects his lips from my neck and looks down over my shoulder at the way it hangs above the water.
He grinds his hips behind me, pressing his erection against the small of my back.
A soft, "fuck," slips from his lips as he hangs his head in whatever defeat or triumph he's warring over.
"What?" I ask nervously, my teeth tugging at my lip. It takes every piece of restraint I have in me not to push back against him.
He doesn't answer, though. Instead, the entirety of his hand covers my supple breast. The hardened nipple pushes against his palm. Long fingers press and squeeze, gripping my sensitive skin before releasing the tension only to do it again.
And when his palm slides lower, under my breast, and his thumb roughly grips and pulls my nipple, I can't help but push back against him in unfurled pleasure.
A long, guttural groan sounds in my ear as it matches the melody of my own. Our arousal, whimpers, and excitement create their own music in the seclusion of his bathroom.
My chest thrusts to meet his grip the same time his hips grind an erection made of stone into the exposed skin of my back. Water sloshes around us as we move fluidly against the push and pull of our sensual touches.
I so badly want to turn in his arms, kiss down his neck, press my tongue to his skin, snake a hand between our bodies, and—
Edward stops suddenly, as though a blazing poker jolted him back. My breast bounces from his hand, and I turn quickly to ensure he's okay.
His arms rest on either side of the tub when I face him, but this moment is far from the intimate fantasy I was playing in my mind. His chest rises and falls, panic boiling under his skin as his head hangs back, vision blurred as it takes in the lightning overhead.
"Edward?" I call, sitting on my knees.
The only response is a heaving breath.
When I scoot closer, my knee bumps into his inner thigh, and he presses a flat palm against my chest. Just barely above my breasts, he pushes me back and away.
"I just need…" he pants, his palm turning into a fist as he fights off whatever demon tries to pull him under, "a second."
Nodding quickly, I get to my feet, step out of the bath, and wrap a large towel around my body. I place one at his side, comb my fingers through his hair, and wait for him to relax.
As he does, I make my way into his bedroom, heated embarrassment coating my skin in ick. My blood turns to shame as I think about all the ways I violated him in the tub.
Forcing my chest into his hand, begging for pleasure, pressing back into him… after knowing firsthand the way she made him suffer… I can't help the hot, stinging tears as they fall free while I pull a T-shirt and a pair of sleep pants from his drawers.
With my back to the door, I peel the soaked underwear and bra from my body and replace them with his clothes. Hopefully, he won't mind.
As I throw my undergarments in his laundry basket, the same regrettable thoughts filter in. I took advantage of him. I pushed him too far. I'm no better than her—
And suddenly, a soaked Edward stands before me. Hairs sticking to his face tell me he must have started the shower. Nothing but a white towel wraps around his waist. But I don't look.
"You—" he spits, and my heartbeat picks up. "You are nothing like her." It's aggressive and angry and intolerable of my previous thoughts. He stalks forward until I'm nearly lost in the clothes hanging around us. His finger points to the bathroom as he starts again, "that in there… that was nothing like—" he pauses, running a hand through his hair. "You did not force anything onto me that I did not want myself. In fact, I'm nearly positive I forced myself onto you¸ and for that, I gravely apologize."
We stand still, eyes and breaths matched, before I let out a ridiculous laugh. I step up to him, my hand going for his wrist to place it over my braless, cotton covered chest.
"You didn't," I say simply. "I wanted all that… and then some."
Edward laughs softly, shakes his head, and steps back. I drop my hand from his, but his palm still rests against my beating, uneasy heart.
"Slowly," he says softly, a hopeful gaze falls onto mine.
"Slowly," I agree.
Inwardly, I'm smiling. Intimacy with Edward, however slow he needs it, gives me wings, and I'm soaring at the thought.
~!~
I leave Edward to change. His pajama pants hit my waist, but they drag against the floor as I walk to my room and grab a book. When I return, he's at his desk, facing the bed, scribbling in a notebook. We say nothing as I take in the sight and crawl into the bed. It feels natural.
Shirtless, relaxed, with black-rimmed glasses, Edward's beauty takes my breath away.
He smirks at my thought, but his pen doesn't waiver as he writes.
After fluffing the pillows against the headboard, I sit back and lose myself in my book.
Four chapters in, I hear the notebook shut and the pen fall against the wooden desk. Then the chair moves backward as he yawns a stretch. Next thing I know, he's crawling onto the bed slowly. My knees bend, making room for him at my feet. As he sits back on his bottom, his legs stretch in a V to rest against my body. Strong arms encircle my thighs as he places his chin against my knees and looks at me as I rest tall against his pillows.
For a moment, I remember that the fingers now brushing gently against my legs were stroking my breast an hour ago. We both swallow at the thought.
"Read to me?" he asks softly.
My response is to read the chapter I'm currently on. He takes in every word, phrase, and intonation of my tone. He smirks when I skip over a swear word and hums as I ladle emotion onto other phrases. Still, his fingers brush against the soft cotton covering my legs.
Gently, as though his fingers might rip the fabric, he draws shapes and words, and traces the embroidered C of his last name at the top of my hip.
Just as I suck in a breath, Edward grips behind my knees, and pulls me roughly toward him. A squeal escapes my lips before I can stop it. My back, previously propped upright amongst the pillows, now lays flat on his mattress. Our centers touch in an innocent manner.
Edward chuckles as he crawls up the bed, losing himself in the pillows. Inhaling deeply where my hair was resting, I scoot sideways, so my head rests just under his chest. When he laughs, I can feel the muscles of his core tighten under my cheek.
He stares down as I stare up. Green meets blue as our smiles entwine and happiness floats around us.
With him, it's easy.
With him, I don't remember that Royce captured and attacked me.
With him, I could live in this room forever.
He nods at my thoughts, and the smile he offers tells his own truth—he could, too.
Long fingers snake their way into my hair. The smile never falls.
We spend the rest of the night sharing so many ideas, thoughts, and passions, braided together, beaming into each other.
~!~
"So, I just… press on these keys?" I ask Edward the next day as we sit together on his piano bench.
"If that is what you wish," he muses, pressing random keys.
"How do I sound like you?"
"I've been playing since I was seven, Belle."
"What are you now, one hundred?" I joke.
"Twenty," he clarifies like I don't already know. We are the same age, after all. "Press here," he says, taking a finger and pressing down on an ivory key, "and here."
I do as he says, but nothing sounds even a little bit like him.
"Edward," I whine, pulling my hand back after a while and stretching my fingers.
"Stand," he orders, pushing back the bench.
Happy to oblige, thinking we're done with this ridiculous lesson, I stand with my back to him. But then his fingers grip my hips and pull me back down. I'm wedged between his legs on the small piano bench. His breaths, hot and short behind me, the beat of his heart hammering against my shoulder blade as we're pressed together.
"Try again," he murmurs, placing his hand over mine as soft as a whimper.
I have to swallow down the moan threatening to escape as Edward scoots his body closer to mine. I tell myself it's because he's falling off the bench, but I hope that isn't the true reason. Closing my eyes, I'm bombarded with images of us in the bath last night.
Except they're not from my point of view…
Edward's eyes fixate on the sliver of my thigh that pops out of the bubbles as I scoot around. Then his eyes wander to the crux of my elbow, the hollow of my collarbone, and the tiny freckle on my neck.
He presses his fingers against mine, playing bits and pieces of the song I recognize so easily now. The one he's sent me so often.
"This is for you," he whispers, his fingers moving faster than mine can keep up with.
I try, though. I try so hard to feel the weight of his hands against mine as he communicates with the keys to sing us a song.
And then images and feelings and thoughts swirl through me.
My neck exposed as it's lulled to the side. A hardened, pink nipple as it presses against the fabric of my bra last night. The war within himself as he fights not to touch me. The relief as his finger grips my firm breast.
"This is your song." His deep voice in my ear sends a chill straight down my spine.
"My song?" I question, still bombarded with his lust from last night.
"The one I wrote for you," he explains, pressing a kiss to my neck.
"And… and you can play it…" I pause, distracted by his mouth, "without… the notes?"
"I play it," kiss, "from my memory," kiss, "as if I could ever," kiss, "forget," kiss, "you."
My hands move from under his palms and rest against his wrists, stopping the song.
"Edward," I whisper, tears in my eyes.
He swallows behind me, hand in my hair, moving it away from the nape. One single, delicate, meaningful kiss pressed against the back of my neck. He stays there, his lips unmoving, his mind whispering to me all the things he doesn't dare say out loud.
So beautiful… only you… you are my wish… exquisite… so many regrets… warmed honey… more…
I lean back into him, pressing my body fully against his, and then a loud, crisp knock sounds at the door.
Edward sighs before disengaging. His hands stroke my hair, replacing it over the spots still molten from his lips.
"Jasper wishes to speak with me," Edward says softly.
I stand and turn to him. His downcast eyes stare at my hips, so I cup his face in my hands to make him glance up at me.
"Do not forget who you are," I tell him simply.
"And who am I, Belle?" he asks, dejected and lost.
"You are mine," I whisper so clearly that he has no choice but to look up.
Green orbs pierce my skin with such intensity it nearly kills me. He pushes back the bench and towers over me. With a smile so strong and convincing, I peer up at him innocently. Knowing exactly what my words have done to him, just as his same words did to me last night, I hold the power at this moment.
"And Edward?" I ask, fingers raised to touch the bottom of his chin lightly.
"Yes?"
"Once you've returned, if you're comfortable with it, I'd like the full story, too."
Edward nods as another knock on the door echoes through his room. My hand drops from his face, and as I turn to leave, he grips my wrist.
"Belle?"
"Hm?"
"Thank you," he says honestly.
Confused, my brows knit together as I ask, "for what, Edward?"
He smiles simply, a soft laugh escapes his nose. "I hope you never know."
I search his mind but find nothing. His block is up, but his smile lifts higher. I've decided, quite frankly, that I want to keep doing what it is to make him smile like that more often.
a/n: Thank you to Fran for beta-ing! She's the best!
Thank you to everyone who takes time to review, even if it's short. I love reading each and every one. What are your theories on Aro, Jane, and the Royal Court?! Questions will be answered slowly but surely- I can't answer them all now or there wouldn't be a plot!
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