Aftermath

Some time later, I climbed off her and rolled onto my back, sending up a cloud of white fluff as I collapsed into the pile of pillows. Bella instantly rolled over to wrap her arms around my neck and entwine her legs with mine. She rested her head on my chest, and I wished she were able to hear my heart the way I had been listening to hers. Before she had taken more than a dozen breaths, I was certain that she was asleep.

The normally heady island breeze was swirling through the room. The salt which it carried enhanced the freesia-strawberry-honey-lilac smell that surrounded us. My eyes drifted shut, and I breathed in the intoxicating smell of our love-making. A grin overtook my face, and I sighed deeply. With Bella snuggled against me, I felt completely content and relaxed in a way I couldn't remember feeling before.

While Bella slept in my arms, I went over in detail the events of what I was certain would forever be the best day of my life. The enjoyable hunt, wrestling with my brothers, coming home to find the house decorated for our wedding, helping with the last details of setting up, my father fixing the tie on my tuxedo, waiting at the altar, and the glorious sight of my bride in her wedding dress all played out in vivid detail in my perfect memory. I licked my lips, remembering the taste of our first kiss as husband and wife. Humming the songs that had been playing, I relived our dances, each one of our kisses, and the way it felt to cradle her in my arms as I stepped over the threshold of the beach house. Wanting to ensure that my perfect recall would never fail me, I committed to my memory every second we had spent together that night.

After a century of loneliness, I had married my beloved Bella. She was forever my wife and mate, and my only regret was that I would never be able to complete our family structure. Well, no matter. I was what I was, and Bella had known that our future could never include a child. That didn't stop me from imagining a chestnut-haired, chocolate-eyed girl-child building sandcastles in the sun on our island, or a red-haired, green-eyed boy, swinging from the jungle trees. I chuckled softly, trying not to feel sad about a future that could never be. The future that was was bright with promise. I had managed to make love to her without hurting her. At that moment, with Bella in my arms, I felt that anything was possible, even a future in which she remained innocent and pure.

I detected a change in the light against my closed lids and opened my eyes. The sun had risen and was slowly brightening the room through the open door and the wide wall of glass. The gauzy curtain that surrounded the bed was moving with the breeze, and my eye was caught by a swirling of white fluff. Focusing on it, I remembered the mouthful of feathers I had spit out and grinned ruefully. Apparently I would need to buy Esme a new pillow or two. Despite Emmett's certainty, I hadn't destroyed the bed, nor torn down any walls. Chuckling, I realized that last wasn't true. Certain walls had indeed been torn down last night.

Closing my eyes again, I reveled in the feeling of Bella's naked body pressed against the length of mine. The sun was shining brightly, but the time was unimportant. Bella had had a long night, and the only pressures on our time now were those of our own choosing. If she wanted to sleep all day, there was no reason why she shouldn't get to do so.

Except that... I didn't sleep. While lying with her in my arms was undeniably pleasant, the joy we had shared that night had been far more than simply pleasant. I found myself wanting her again. She had slept for so many hours already! I wondered if she would really mind if I were to wake her. Giving in to a soft laugh, I thought that, considering what I had in mind, she wouldn't be upset at all. Judging by the sun's angle, it was nearly noon, and she had slept on the plane, too.

I grinned and ran a finger along her cheek, smoothing her tangled hair to the side. There was a feather stuck to her lip, and it moved with each breath she took until I plucked it away. She hadn't moved at all that night - or day, rather - and I was almost disappointed that she had slept so deeply since I loved to hear her sleep-talking. Reining in my disappointment, I thought that just meant she would be all the more prepared for round two. And this time, there wouldn't even be any initial pain.

My lips still curved in a smile, I gathered the thick curtain of her hair in my hands and exposed her face more fully to my gaze. Catching the strands that were looped about her throat, I shifted the tangled tresses over her shoulder. As my fingers brushed along the creamy smoothness of her skin, I noticed some smudges. She had showered before and after our swim; she shouldn't have been dirty. Brushing my fingers along the discoloration on her shoulder, I saw to my horror that my fingers fit into their pattern perfectly. Ice shot through me as I realized the smudges weren't dirt, they were bruises. Bruises that I had left! My fingers had dug into her shoulder deep enough to mark her skin!

Why hadn't she said something?

Frowning, my eyes were transfixed for a long time on the five purplish blotches that marred her perfect skin. When had I done that? I had gripped her shoulders more than once. My hands had touched nearly every inch of her body last night, though I didn't remember gripping her any tighter on her shoulder than I had elsewhere. I gasped, worried, and lifted my head to gaze down the length of her.

"Oh," I whispered. My head shook, trying to deny what I was seeing. "Oh, Bella, no. What did I do?"

Clearly visible against her pale skin was my hand-print, repeated down the length of her entire body. I was sure that her other side, the one she was laying on, must look the same. I had wrapped my hand around her arm, and I could see exactly where my index finger had met my thumb. I had pressed her thighs against my hips, and the image of my hand stood out against her creamy skin in livid relief. I had held onto her hips, and the tips of my fingers had left clearly defined dots in a repeating pattern of four points along her waist. The single spots scattered about must have been left by my thumb. It was a wonder I hadn't broken her ribs; my hand was well-defined there, as though I had dipped it into purple paint and pressed it over her fragile rib-cage.

And those were just the ones that I could see. I had been inside her. Had I bruised her there, too?

Emmett had thought that I would break the bed at the very least, if not tear down half the house. Now, I wished that I had! Rather than turning my strength against the furniture, I had dug my fingers into Bella. I had been so pleased that I hadn't hurt her, but I had!

Why had she not stopped me?!

My eyes widened in horror. Or... had she tried to? Had she tried to tell me, but I was too absorbed in what I was feeling to pay her any attention? Carlisle had warned me against exactly that. He had told me to mind my actions carefully. I had ignored every word of caution he had counseled me with and reveled in the joy of her body with abandon. Had I raped her without even realizing it? She had called my name again and again, and I had gloried in the sound. Had she been trying to get my attention, trying to get me to stop?

No, I thought in disgust. Please tell me that's not what happened!

Nearly panicked, I brought my memory of the night back and replayed each second, ignoring the way it made me feel, searching for an instance when she had tried to push me away, for even a single second where she had not clung to me. There were none. Was she so oblivious to danger to herself that she couldn't even feel it?

With my eyes locked on her bruised skin, images I'd seen from years ago flickered through my mind. I had spent four years as a human hunter, and every one of the men I had killed had been monsters in one form or another. Esme had joined my family because of her monstrous husband; the awful man had hurt my mother for years before she had escaped. But though she had left him behind, her memories had remained, and I had seen the pictures in her mind of Charles's various hand-prints on her skin all too often. The bastard had been my first kill, and - unlike the other men whose lives I had ended - were he still alive today, I would kill him again, gladly. I didn't have to drink to kill.

The others had earned their deaths in a similar manner, either by killing their fellow humans, or by treating them the way Charles had treated Esme. So many of my victims had left marks on the skin of their women, and I had killed them for it. Now, it was my own precious wife whose skin was marked with bruises. Now, it was my hands that had left them! If ever I had dared to believe that that I was not a monster, surely the image of Bella's bruised body as she lay trustingly in my arms was evidence of the truth.

I was a monster! I always had been and would forever be! I might not have raped her, but my lapse in control had still been wrong.

And I had been about to wake her to do it to her again!

She likely wouldn't have survived a second time. Now that I knew how good it felt, the craving for her body was stronger than it had been before. As with drinking blood, one taste simply wasn't enough; I wanted more. Unable to look at her anymore, I fixed my eyes on the ceiling, holding my body rigid with my hands clenched into fists as I waited for her to wake.

The angle of the sun told me that it was well past noon when Bella's breathing changed. Where it had been slow, deep, and steady, she took one that filled her lungs more fully. Carefully unclenching one fist, barely brushing my fingers against her skin, I traced her spine. Bella's arms tightened around my neck as she stirred. I waited for her to cringe in pain, to whimper or say something about what I had done, but she merely lay against me while I continued to graze my fingers over her back.

To my shock, she giggled. It was nothing like the sound I had expected to hear from her. It was light, carefree, and happy, and I couldn't understand it at all. Wasn't she in pain?

"What's funny?"

Rather than answer me, Bella's body ignited against mine. Her blush was startling to my cold skin. I had lost all of the warmth of the ocean, and my temperature was back to that of the dead creature that I resembled. Her living body made its needs known in an audible rumble from her stomach, and she laughed again.

"You just can't escape being human for very long."

I turned those words over in my mind, but couldn't detect any anger or accusations hidden within them. I clenched my teeth, waiting for her to acknowledge how I had hurt her.

Bella rose to one elbow, but I couldn't meet her eyes, and she flinched at last. "Edward? What is it? What's wrong?"

"You have to ask?" I didn't see how she wasn't angry or at least aware of the bruising. Though I waited, she didn't speak again, and I finally glanced at her.

My beloved wife stared at me with fear in her eyes. I saw a bruise I hadn't noticed before, just below her eye from where I had pressed my cheek against hers.

There was a crease between her brows like I had seen so often, that look of bewildered confusion that had always captured my thoughts. Reaching out a finger, I traced the crease carefully, reminding myself of what I seemed to have forgotten last night. Bella was made of glass, fragile and so breakable. Though the sounds of her body were loud in my ears - her heart, her breathing, her stomach as it called for her to fill it - her mind was as unreachable as ever, and the old curiosity plagued me.

"What are you thinking?"

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

Ah, God, she thought I was angry with her? Grimly, I said, "How badly are you hurt, Bella? The truth - don't try to downplay it."

Her eyes widened. "Hurt?"

I glared at her.

She never looked away from my face, but I felt the ripple of her body as she stretched her legs and arched her back. Though she moved her whole body, I never felt her flinch. I knew her nerves worked; she had felt both pleasure and pain before. Was her body as blind to my actions as her eyes were?

Her lips pressed into a pout as she frowned. "Why would you jump to that conclusion? I've never been better than I am now."

Unable to look into her eyes any longer, I closed mine. "Stop that."

"Stop what?"

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

Her breath rushed out of her and she breathed my name. "Don't ever say that."

"Look at yourself, Bella," I demanded. "Then tell me I'm not a monster." Just as she always was, Bella was blind where it came to me and my actions. I had to make her see!

She looked down and gasped. I waited for her to say it, but instead she wondered, "Why am I covered in feathers?"

I let out my breath in a huge gust, unsurprised by how much I was dreading the words that I was sure were coming. This delay only made it worse, and my voice was nearly a growl when I spoke. "I bit a pillow. Or two. That's not what I'm talking about."

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

"Look, Bella!" Almost afraid to even touch her, I took her hand, stretched out her arm, and pointed to the discolorations that were getting darker. "Look at that."

She blinked, and a look of surprise crossed her face at what I was showing her. Had she really not known they were there? Had she not felt me bruising her last night? I watched as her eyes traveled down the length of her body. She pulled her hand out of my loose grasp and poked at one of the bruises my fingers had made on her other arm. The color changed briefly, paling before flaring back to a livid purple. She frowned, and the confused expression told me that she didn't still understand.

Barely touching her skin, trying to keep my hand from shaking with my shame, I fit my fingers into the patterns they had made on her body.

"Oh." Her face cleared of its confusion, but there were no emotions to replace it. No condemnation, no anger, not even a blush.

"I'm... so sorry, Bella. I knew better than this. I should not have - " My voice caught in my throat and a noise of disgust forced its way out as I remembered how much I had enjoyed loving her, how much I wanted to do so again. Why was it always I, who loved her, who was the one that hurt her and put her in danger? I forced myself to speak again before hiding my face from her. "I am more sorry that I can tell you."

Bella was still and silent beside me for a long moment while I waited, motionless and in dread. I felt the gentle touch of her hand on my arm, but didn't dare respond.

"Edward," she finally said.

Just hearing my name on her lips was nearly more than I could bear. My body recalled the last time I had heard that, and it wanted to respond. Firmly, I suppressed the need I always felt for her, and stayed where I was.

"Edward?" she repeated.

If I moved even a fraction of an inch, I was afraid that I would run away from her, and if I did, I might never stop. Or, if I didn't run, surely I would give in to the other need in me, the one that was demanding that I merge my body with hers once more. Denying the opposing parts of me, I remained motionless.

"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- "

Her words were soft, gentle, and soothing, but the effect they had on me was the opposite of what she intended. Furious that she was dismissing the danger I had placed her in - yet again! - my voice was harsh when I interrupted her. "Do not say the word fine. If you value my sanity, do not say that you are fine."

"But I am." Her voice was barely a whisper, but in the quiet room, it rang clearly and with absolute certainty.

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

"No. You don't, Edward." Her voice that time was harsh, the angry sound I kept waiting for, but it was not directed at my previous actions. Rather, she seemed angry that I felt bad for hurting her.

Uncomprehending, I looked back at her.

"Don't ruin this. I. Am. Happy," she insisted.

"I've already ruined this."

"Cut it out!"

My teeth were clenched against the angry words I wanted to say. I wanted to hear her anger, I deserved it, but she wasn't angry with me for the right reasons.

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

Shocked, I stared at her. She had never expressed a desire to have me read her thoughts before. As frustrating to me as it was to not hear them, could it be as frustrating to her that I couldn't? I'd always thought she was glad of the fact. "That's a new one. You love that I can't read your mind."

"Not today." Her mouth pressed into an angry line as she shook her head.

"Why?"

Bella rolled her eyes, throwing her hands into the air. Her hands made a loud slapping sound against my chest that must have stung her, but she didn't react to the impact, nor did she seem to feel any pain as she moved her bruised shoulders.

"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."

Blissed out? Her choice of words was nearly amusing since that was how I'd felt afterwards. At least, until I'd discovered what I'd done to her. I was right to be angry with myself over my loss of control, just as she should have been. "You should be angry with me."

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

I sighed, knowing that the reason for her anger wasn't the right one, so it didn't count. And even if it had been, it certainly wouldn't have made me feel better. "No. I don't think anything could make me feel better now."

"That," she growled at me.

I blinked in surprise at her tone.

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

Would I ever understand her? She was only upset because I was upset that I'd hurt her, that I had nearly killed her! How could she not see how close I had come? How could she not be angry with me for that?

When she spoke again, her voice was gentle, like I would expect to hear if she were speaking to a small child, not the vampire who'd nearly killed her on so many occasions. "We knew this was going to be tricky. 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 gestured to my hand-prints dismissively. "I think for a first time, not knowing what to expect, we did amazing. With a little practice - "

She stopped speaking abruptly when she met my eyes. Judging by the fury I felt, my expression must have been livid. Had I ever been so angry with her? She'd assumed I would hurt her? No wonder she wasn't angry that I had done so; she had expected it!

"Assumed?" I hissed. "Did you expect this, Bella? Were you anticipating that 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?"

I was trembling with fury, nearly gasping from the force of it. In stark contrast to the storm of my anger, Bella was a calm center. Her expression was patient, if a little sad. She maintained her silence until my breathing slowed.

"I didn't know what to expect - but I definitely didn't expect how... how... just wonderful and perfect it was." She blushed at the admission, and her eyes left mine to stare at where her hands rested against my chest. "I mean, I don't know how it was for you, but it was like that for me."

Slowly reaching a finger out to place under her chin, I tilted her head, trying to look into her eyes again. They were the best windows into what she was truly thinking, but she kept them averted from me. Having just admitted to enjoying sex with me, she seemed rather embarrassed, and I tried to interpret her words. I don't know how it was for you... My silly Bella never saw herself clearly, and I knew how self-conscious she could be. Could she think that I was displeased with her? Or disappointed? Could she not know what making love to her had done to me?

"Is that what you're worried about? That I didn't enjoy myself?"

Still refusing to meet my eyes, she mumbled, "I know it's not the same. 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."

Although it was possible that she was lying to herself, I didn't think she was lying to me. Bella was always truthful, and if she said that she had enjoyed our love-making, well, that had been the impression she'd given me last night. But surely she could have seen that I had enjoyed it, too! As self-conscious as Bella was, could she believe making love with her had not been the best thing to happen to me? Apparently my anger, at the very least, was giving her that impression.

I felt my lips twisting down. Now I was hurting her in another way. She looked so sad, when she'd said she had been happy before. Finally, she looked back into my eyes, her expression as shy and uncertain as it had been before our swim.

Needing her to see that she wasn't at fault, I said, "It seems that I have more to apologize for. 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, not when you were..."

I trailed off, unable to admit to how close I'd come to biting her. Her every action last night had been perfect, and I wanted her to know it. Yet, as much as I had enjoyed experiencing her love, I hadn't even been close to being in control of myself, and her body showed the results of that lapse.

At my words, her lips curved in a hopeful smile. "Really? The best ever?"

Carefully, all too aware of the fragile glass and silk nature of the woman in my arms, I put my palms against either side of her face, cradling her gentle beauty in between my large, stone hands. Slowly, I tried to tell her what I had done in my attempt to protect her.

"I spoke with 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 swallowed hard. As if I had needed that particular warning. Yet despite his warnings, and his advice, I had disregarded everything he'd said. I had allowed my instincts to guide me, and had gotten lost in Bella's embrace, and she had gotten hurt. "He had faith in me, though - faith I didn't deserve."

Bella opened her mouth, and I could only imagine that she was about to agree with him, but I couldn't bear to hear her say so. I placed a finger over her lips to stop the words.

"I also asked him what I should expect. I didn't know what it would be for me... what with my being a vampire. Carlisle told me it was a very powerful thing, like nothing else. He told me physical love was something I should not treat lightly. With our rarely changing temperaments, strong emotions can alter us in permanent ways." I felt my lips twisting again, only this time it was into a true smile. "But he said I did not need to worry about that part - you had already changed me so completely."

Bella smiled back, her love for me shining in her rich, brown eyes.

"I spoke with my brothers, too. They told me it was a very great pleasure. Second only to drinking human blood. But I've tasted your blood, and there could be no blood more potent than that..." I frowned, remembering how tempted I'd been to experiencing the ultimate ecstasy of drinking her blood while reveling in the joys of her body. I shivered a little, just at the thought. But if I had bit her, that would have been the end. Keeping her alive, refraining from that indulgence, I could love her again and again... if I dared. "I don't think they were wrong, really. Just that it was different for us. Something more."

"It was more," she whispered fervently. "It was everything."

"That doesn't change the fact that it was wrong. Even if it were possible that you really did feel that way."

She frowned and her lips curled in indignation. "What does that mean? Do you think I'm making this up? Why?"

Grimly, I pointed out the truth to her. "To ease my guilt. I can't ignore the evidence, Bella. Or your history of trying to let me off the hook when I make mistakes."

I was about to point out each and every one of them, but she grabbed my face in her hands and leaned close to me with a fierce burning in her eyes. I stared into them, seeing the fiery soul that I loved so much glaring back at me. Despite her expression, I was shocked by the force she put behind her words when she spoke.

"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, 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."

The mention of the studio made me flinch as I recalled all too well the sound of her shrieks from James torturing her, the sight of her mangled body on the floor, and - worse and better than any of those - the perfection I had tasted as I drank her life's essence, her blood in my mouth, in my body, the way it had felt as she filled every one of my senses. There had been a long moment when her blood had first hit my tongue that I had wanted to keep going. I had thought that nothing could ever convince me to stop. But then, some other part of me had remembered whose blood I was drinking. The monster within me had raged against my control, but I had beaten him back. Somehow, I had stopped. And as a direct result, I was holding Bella in my arms now. I had made her my wife and my mate, and she said I had made her happy.

But that's not what I was currently doing. The deep crease was back between her brows and her mouth was a tight line of anger. Whispering as I touched the line between her brows again, I said, "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," she said, firmly.

I watched her face for any sign that differed from her words. Finding none, I breathed deeply and nodded. As Carlisle had told me, I should make our honeymoon about her, and my sins were not hers to worry about. "You're right. The past is 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 narrowed her eyes at me, seeming to disbelieve my words. Knowing that she always saw through me, I forced a smile onto my face, determined to see to it that she enjoyed the rest of our honeymoon. If she wanted me to be happy, then that's what I would be.

"Whatever makes me happy?" she pressed as her stomach made its needs known again.

"You're hungry." It had been many hours since she had eaten at the wedding, and then only sparingly. Sliding from her embrace, I stood and rummaged in my trunk for a pair of pants.

"So, why exactly did you decide to ruin Esme's pillows?"

I glanced back at her, and at any other time would have laughed aloud as she shook her head. A cloud of fluff swirled around her as the feathers she dislodged from her hair moved with the breeze and her motions. I ran my fingers back and forth through my hair, certain that I would find the remnants of the pillows stuck to me, as well.

"I don't know if I decided to do anything last night. We're just lucky it was the pillows and not you." I inhaled sharply at the instant craving as I remembered how close I had come. No, there had been very little decision making on my part. I had acted on instinct alone, exactly the opposite of everything I had been told to do. Well, it had also been my instinct to keep her alive, and so she was. And she had told me to be happy.

And truly, I was.

I'd made Bella my wife the day before, and since she was alive today, I would keep her that way for as long as possible. And when it no longer was, I would have the very great privilege of making love to her until the end of time. Until then, it was my job to keep her happy and safe. I'd had a century of practice pretending to be human, and although Bella always saw through me, I thought that if I tried very hard, I might convince her that I was happy.

I placed a smile on my face that almost felt real.

Bella sat up and slid to the edge of the bed, raised her arms above her head and indulged in a stretch. Though she hadn't winced before, I saw her do so now, and stared at her, aghast. Before, laying in bed with me, much of what I'd done to her had been hidden, but now, with her beautiful body exposed to me fully, I could see the extent of the damage I'd done. Even so, seeing her moving that way made my desire for her flare again.

I gasped and turned away from her, my fists clenched. I wasn't sure what was worse: the sight of her bruised body, or the fact that it took everything in me not to go to her so that I might do it again! My muscles locked into place, and I stood in the doorway like a statue.

"Do I look that hideous?"

A choked noise escaped from me at her attempted joke. She was moving very carefully as she stood and walked across the room. She groaned, and the sound was a combination of frustration and disgust. I was instantly behind her, watching her stare at herself in the mirror.

"Bella?"

"I'll never get all this out of my hair!" She pointed to the remains of the pillows that I had destroyed and began sliding her fingers through the thick curtain of hair, attempting to pull the individual feathers from where they'd dried in place.

"You would be worried about your hair." Almost being murdered by her husband or looking as though he had beaten her senseless was nothing to worry about. Of course she wouldn't care. But a few feathers in her hair was surely worthy of her anger. Taking care not to touch her skin or pull any hairs out, I pinched the feathers, carefully tugging them loose from her silky tresses.

"How did you keep from laughing at this? I look ridiculous." She rolled her eyes and smiled as she tried to catch my eye in the mirror, but I kept my focus on the feathers I was removing. Her mouth twisted slightly, grimacing at my lack of a response I guessed, but what could I say that I hadn't already?

After I had only removed a small portion of the sticky fuzz, she dropped her hands and shook her head. "This isn't going to work. It's all dried in. I'm going to have to try to wash it out."

My beloved wife turned abruptly and wrapped her arms around my waist before I could stop her. Her naked chest pressed against mine, and she smiled coyly. I hadn't seen such an expression on her face before and froze.

"Do you want to help me?"

I'd stopped myself from watching her as she showered after our swim, but now she was inviting me into the shower with her. I could imagine all too vividly the way it would feel to lather shampoo into her hair, to feel the water warm my skin so that I matched her again, to let the silken mass trail through my fingers and down my arms as I helped her remove the evidence of our love-making. A fire swept through me at the thought, but if I were to allow myself such an experience, it would not end well.

And she needed to eat.

Carefully, barely touching her skin, I unwound her arms from my waist. "I'd better find some food for you." As soon as I released her, I fled from the room. From where I came to a halt in the kitchen, I heard her soft sigh before she turned the water on.

Gripping my hair and pulling, I moaned, breathing heavily. Didn't she understand?

No, of course she didn't. She never understood that I was a danger to her, that I was destined to kill her, that I was doing everything in my power to keep her alive, even as she did everything in hers to make that task impossible! Scowling back at my nearly deranged expression in the reflective surfaces of the various kitchen appliances, I thought that she must be one of the most stubborn creatures to have ever existed.

The exasperation I'd been feeling shifted into a sense of deviousness. My eyes narrowed as a tight smile crossed my face. Stubborn she might be, but so was I!

I had resisted her advances many times before. That I'd had a taste of what physical love felt like was no different from tasting her blood and not killing her. I had resisted that; surely I could resist this. I had many weapons at my disposal. This island was a location worthy of our honeymoon, and I was more familiar with it than with any other place on Earth. I could use her very humanity against her; she had physical needs which I no longer shared.

Not that I didn't have needs, just that hers were not the same and were not something that could be fought with willpower alone. She required rest, just as she required food. She had already had the one, and it was up to me to provide the other before she finished her shower. After she ate, I could take her to see Esme's island and show her its wonders. Should she become tired as we explored, this house had plenty of beds from which to choose. Would I be to blame for keeping her entertained?

Holding my breath against the smell, I prepared a breakfast for her. She'd tried to hide it from me, but Esme was more than a little jealous that I would be the first to cook in her kitchen. Although we had made fun of her for doing so, now that I was using it, I was glad she had equipped the place with modern appliances. I'd have to remember to thank her.

I was sliding the omelet onto a plate when, clean and clad in a light cotton dress, my beloved wife padded into the kitchen. Bella sniffed appreciatively as I slid the plate in front of her.

"Here." The smile on my face this time was genuine. Bella was - mostly - fine, and she would recover from the damage I had done. We would spend the next few weeks with nothing to do but entertain each other, and I was determined that she would have a good time. Then, we would return home, prove to the wolves that I hadn't killed her, see her father at least once more, and then... well, then we would see.