A/N: I am so very sorry for the delay. I've barely had time to breathe, let alone sit down and write. I've also had a serious case of writers block, and for that I really do apologize. I hope that I did not lose too many readers after the last chapter and that everyone enjoyed it. This chapter is mostly just about Edward.
Disclaimer: I do not own this franchise or any rights associated with it.
Chapter 11
She slowly drifted towards consciousness, the sweet scent of jasmine rousing her. She could feel Edward brushing his fingers through her hair soothingly, his arms wrapped around her.
"Hhhmmm, I can smell myself inside you my mate…"
"Wake up my Isa, I have a bath waiting for you. Come, let's get you cleaned up before I devour you again."
When her only response was the slow blinking of her eyelids; he gently slid his arms underneath her, stood up from the bed, and made his way to the bathroom. Her head lolled against his collarbone. Her body felt like jelly, and she was wary of attempting to stand on her own in the case of her legs giving out from underneath her. She now understood Alice's reasoning in the decision to make this a weekend sleepover. They had only gone one round and she could already barely walk.
The lights in the bathroom were dimmed; for which she was grateful. The source of the jasmine turned out to be a frothy bubblebath that Edward had thoughtfully prepared for her. Her naked body slithered slowly out of his arms into the hot water. A soft sigh escaped from her lips as her taut muscles relaxed, allowing her to slip further into the comforting heat of the water. She tilted her head against the porcelain side of the bathtub so that she could continue to watch Edward. He was already seated beside her, his own head braced against the palm of his hand, his elbow resting upon the tiles that surrounded the bath. Just as she was watching him; he was watching her. Now that they had mated she could see the utter joy and calm that he had held within his eyes take over the entirety of his body; he seemed very much at peace while he watched her bathe. While the silence was comfortable, she desired to find out as much about him as possible before they were called back to the bed by their instincts.
"Your mother and sister told me a vast amount about you while they were in Arizona, but I would like to hear it from you if you wouldn't mind?"
"Of course not my Isa. I do not mind sharing myself with you. We are two halves of a whole my love. I will not hide from you."
She relaxed further, her mind slowing to a pace similar to the soft ebb and flow of the swells of a calm ocean. He had said it before, but the vocal confirmation put her further at ease.
"I was born in 1901 as Edward Mason Jnr, only child and son to Edward and Elizabeth Mason. We lived as a fairly happy family in the upper-class half of Chicago, surrounded by my father's influent associates. I am fairly certain that my father did love my mother, in his own way, although I did not often witness him outwardly showing her vast amounts of affection. In those times, it was difficult to tell whether love was a factor in any marriage. Wives were silent, obedient creatures whose duties rested within the household. My mother never did fit into that mould. She was bright and vibrant where others were dull and insipid. He gave her freedom; a rarity of the time, but the price was his often lengthy absences due to work. He was attempting to change the world, one case at a time. However, his job as a lawyer took its toll on the dynamics of our family. I had to mature quickly, in order to keep our affairs in the correct standing. The war hit when I was fourteen years old, too young to be enlisted; much to my mother's relief. My father was spared too, due to his apparent incredible work as a high-standing lawyer. They said he was needed closer to home, to assist with the repercussions of what was happening at The Front. In retrospect, I think if my father had been a more constant figure in my childhood, I would not have had such a craving to join the army, not that that would have saved my life. The Spanish influenza cropped up during the last year of the war, the very same year that I had been planning on enlisting. Whether I had been at the front or in the comfort of my own home, I would not have survived further than my eighteenth birthday. I was seventeen that year, technically just too young to join the war effort; but that was a fact that was frequently overlooked with the right paperwork. I was ready to go, preparing to say goodbye to my mother when the disease hit Chicago like a tidal wave. My father was the first that was infected in our family. He had been in frequent contact with infected individuals due to the nature of his position. From there, it spread like wildfire through our household. With the rest of our surviving staff downed by the secondary stages of the virus, it was left to my mother and I to nurse my father. I fell ill shortly after. With the first symptoms already showing in her too, we were compelled to relocate to the closest hospital. My father passed almost as soon as we entered the doors, his weak body simply giving up the will to fight. My sickness progressed faster than the doctors could fight, and within days I was as close to death as my father had been before we moved. I was, however, still partially lucid; and able to understand a majority of the conversations occurring around me. I knew that my mother's condition had declined, and that she would soon follow my father's footsteps towards the afterlife. I knew that she had been begging the doctors to do anything possible to save my life, be it natural or otherwise. And I knew that a Dr Carlisle Cullen was at my bedside day and night, constantly monitoring my condition. He informed me when she passed, in the dark hours between night and dawn, so that I could say my goodbyes, before he quietly explained what he planned to do to save my life. My mother had known what he was; had known what he was capable of, and had begged him to be the one to safe my life. She told him as much as could about our life, our past, where all of our belongings were kept and how take possession of all of them in my name. She wanted me to have everything, to remember everything…and her. He explained everything he knew about the process, how great a moral dilemma this was for him, before begging for my forgiveness for what he was about to do. I do not remember much about those several days. I was aware of a great amount of pain, of fire spreading from limb to limb, of wind against my fevered skin, and the quiet murmurings that were present within an inhabited forest. I did not scream, and Carlisle tells me that I was as still as marble during my change. If not for my racing heartbeat, he claims that he would have thought he had failed. I woke up as a newborn in a world that seemed new compared to the old one. With my new senses everything was different from before. I will not lie to you my Isa, and say that those first years were easy. It was a struggle every single day, internally and externally. I had to learn how to control my strength, my thirst, while also coming to terms with the unusual fact that I could read the thoughts of others. Carlisle was everything my father should have been in that time. Patient, compassionate, understanding. I made mistakes, as we all have. He was there to stop me from falling into the dark pit that was the bloodlust. He became my father in all but blood, and even then I had his venom running through my veins. It was this bond that later prevented me from leaving his and Esme's side. If not for their love, I would have ventured off on my own vigilante mission, one from which I do not think I would have ever been able to get back from. But I'm working ahead of myself, I am certain that you would like to know how Esme came to join what is now our family. Let us go back to bed and I shall continue my story. We would not want you to prune being in that water so long."
He winked and grinned at her as he uttered those words, and she knew that he was just joking with her. He was right though, she had been in the water for long enough that it had started to take on a slight chill, and was no longer the toasty temperature she remembered it being at the start of his story. She allowed him to assist her in standing, carefully stepping over the lip of the bath as he wrapped a soft cotton towel around her body. He dried her reverently, his movements slow and methodical. She felt incredibly shy by the time he started to dress her in the sheer cotton pyjamas that she had packed in her bag; the same ones that she had not even noticed had been placed upon the sink. Once dressed, she was led back into the bedroom by the hand. He helped her up onto the mattress before settling himself comfortably beside her once more.
"Now where was I?"