Chapter 4

October...

November...

December...

Three months.

Over three months without setting eyes on Bella, without feeling her touch. He missed the sound of her heartbeat. He missed the sound of her voice. Three months of worrying for her safety every moment, when his very nature dictated he keep his mate at his side where he could protect her himself.

It was torture. More than Edward could bear. But bear it he must. What choice did he have?

The urge to spend his time tracking down Victoria — thereby eliminating at least one threat facing Bella — was overwhelming. But he resisted that temptation. Hunting Victoria meant giving himself over to his predatory senses. That thought made him uneasy, especially if the hunt took him anywhere near Forks. He needed to keep his brain, rather than his instincts, in control of his body. He mistrusted himself enough as it was.

So instead, he stared out the window as the long days and nights passed. He seldom moved, other than to check in with Alice once per day in the futile hope that her vision had changed. It didn't, of course. He rarely spoke with his other family members. They had no hope to offer either.

His body may have been still. His mind wasn't. Memories assailed him. His moments spent with Bella replayed across his mind's eye with crystal clarity, both the good and the bad, until he could almost feel her in his arms, feel her soft, warm lips against his own.

Those particular memories didn't make him feel better. They made him feel guilty. The image of himself assaulting Bella had shaken him to his very foundation, challenging every preconceived notion of his own identity. Nothing felt real anymore, not even the face he saw reflected back at him in the window when the lights were low.

So for those three months, he put himself under the microscope. He searched every remembered interaction through the lens of Alice's vision, looking for any clue that he wasn't the man he believed himself to be, that his baser side held more sway than his love for Bella, that there was any chance he could do something like that to her.

In the end, he just couldn't reconcile it. There was no part of him that could imagine himself doing that to Bella. Not that. Not ever, for any reason.

So what was he doing in Brazil, leaving her unprotected?

Every aspect of his being rebelled against being away from his mate — every aspect. Mental, emotional and physical. The mated vampire and the human in love. The crushing weight of it drew him, near irresistibly, back toward Bella.

It was a silent, burning agony; a constant push and pull.

He wanted to go home.

He was terrified to go home.

What scared him most were the times that his thoughts ran idle. Because it was during those times that his mind, entirely of its own accord, formulated plans for getting Bella back into his arms. Scarily elaborate plans that centered around one thing: how he could return to Forks undetected; how he could get around his family if they honored his wishes and tried to keep his mate from him.

He hadn't been lying when he told Esme that he could find a way around the lot of them, were he so inclined. It scared him just as much in the present as it did when he first admitted it — even if his current motivations felt pure, even if the Bella in his plans was just as determined to be back in his arms as he was to retrieve her.

It was all too eerily reminiscent of the schemes he'd concocted that first day in biology class when he first laid eyes on Bella — but also, more importantly, when he first inhaled the luscious scent of her blood. He'd had his attack planned down to the last twitch of his fingers that day too, how he would lure her away, how many innocents he was willing to kill to get it done.

He hadn't gone through with it back then, of course. He'd found the will to resist, just as he was doing now. That fact still did little to reassure him of his own morality.

So he endured it, that silent burning agony of staying away. He endured every hollow moment of it, because the alternative was worse. The alternative was unforgivable, and he'd sooner die, if that's what it took, than allow it to ever happen.

Alice stared at her phone as it vibrated. She wasn't looking forward to this. She hadn't looked forward to it when it happened the day before, or the day before that, or the day before that. She wasn't going to be looking forward to it tomorrow, either.

Edward was calling. And she was going to have to break his heart yet again.

The questions would be no different than all the days before.

No, nothing had changed. Yes, her vision still showed him violently attacking Bella in their special meadow. No, she didn't have the first damn clue how to stop it. And just in case he was curious, yes. She did, in fact, feel like this whole thing was all her fault.

And then, inevitably, he would ask the most painful question. The one where his voice would threaten to break.

The answer was still no. Bella was most definitely not okay, nor was there any indication that she was going to be in the near future, either.

Alice saw it every day at school, albeit from a distance. Bella wasn't handling his absence well. She wasn't handling it at all. And Alice didn't have a clue how to help, especially not with her hands tied by her brother's godforsaken rules. Not to mention that the presence of their family seemed to make things far worse for Bella, rather than better. Edward might actually have been right about it being best if they stayed away.

But to her surprise, that day, something finally changed. Right in the middle of a phone call just like all of the other calls before it, there was finally a new question. One tinged with desperation. One so selfless that it made her wish she could just hug him, because if anything, he was in worse shape than Bella.

"Is there anything I can do, Alice? Anything any of us can do to help her cope, without hurting her worse? I'd do anything."

She didn't even hesitate. "Yes. You can come home."

He paused for so long, she thought he might actually be considering it this time. It wasn't like it was the first time she'd suggested it.

Then he sighed, miserably, and she took pity on him. "I can't. You, out of everyone, know why I can't."

She did, actually. She didn't want her vision coming true any more than he did, no matter the cause — mind control, doppelganger, whatever. It would break him, more so than he was already broken, if that was possible.

"Let me think about it, okay?" she hedged, instead.

"Without meddling in her life, Alice," he insisted. "Without giving her false hope."

Great. So that ruled out kidnapping the stubborn girl and just making her eat, which she had no problem admitting was her very first idea. She was prepared to take back every judgmental thought she'd had about Edward when he kidnapped Bella the first time. If anyone could drive an overprotective vampire to kidnapping — or even a stylish psychic vampire — it was most definitely Bella Swan.

But helping Bella without kidnapping or meddling? That might be an impossible request.

No promises, she thought by way of reply. It was strange knowing he was too far away to hear it.

"I'll be in touch if I think of something," she said aloud, instead.

False hope, indeed.

Victoria snapped her teeth in utter frustration from her shared perch high in the trees above Forks, a perfect vantage point for miles in any direction.

Where was he? Nearly four months, and there was no sign of Edward Cullen. Yet the Cullen clan still protected Isabella Swan, seemingly without her knowledge. It made it difficult for herself and Albert to get very close without their presence being detected. And they didn't want that. Not just yet.

Her patience was wearing thin. But there was little to be gained from carrying out Albert's plan if Edward wasn't there to see the damage, to suffer and wallow and hurt because of it.

So they waited.

She should just kill the girl and be done with it. Surely that would bring Edward Cullen back to town. And then, when he had suffered enough, she just might end him too.

"Patience, love."

The oily voice beside her grated on her. Albert wasn't James. James had always enjoyed toying with their prey, to a certain extent. But Albert had different tastes, ones that her powers for evasion warned her could pose an exposure risk.

Local authorities were already starting to connect the string of missing females from surrounding towns. There was talk in the papers of a serial killer. One disappearance every few weeks. There was a reason Albert had existed as a nomad, never staying in one place like this for too long.

Practice, he called it. He stalked them for days. He learned everything about them. More importantly, he learned everything about their significant others, until he could duplicate them perfectly.

He liked the slow game. He always had, even as a human. He liked pretending to romance them first, even improving on some aspect of their partner that dissatisfied them.

He had complete control over his strength, his thirst. It had taken a long time to achieve that. Decades. His first forays after his transformation had been over far too quickly, his victims mangled masses of flesh. By now, he knew how to touch a human gently, skillfully. Without causing pain until he chose to.

Sometimes he kept them for days.

Then, when they least expected it, everything changed. He became a monster in the span of one heartbeat, no longer hiding his cruelty, no longer caring if he hurt them as he easily subdued their struggles and took what he wanted. In fact, he preferred it when they were in pain — when they tried to fight him. It was their fear that did it for him, not the sex. It was power. He slowly drained their blood as he defiled their bodies, watching for that perfect moment to transition back to his true self, for his face to be the last they saw.

It had been his game before Edward killed him too, albeit minus the powers of transformation. Back then, he had simply wooed them, ingratiated himself, gained their trust, blending himself into their world effortlessly.

The end result had been the same. They still saw a monster before they died.

Some long-buried humanity inside Victoria almost sympathized with Edward's decision to kill him.

But she needed him, at least for the moment. It was undeniable that his plan would bring Edward the most pain. She had little care for Bella Swan.

"Yes, love. Patience."

She flinched at the unexpected voice of Edward Cullen right next to her ear. She bared her teeth as she turned to the vampire perched beside her and saw the face of her enemy, those odd amber eyes. Albert was practicing again.

She hated when he did that. The barely visible fog from his nostrils — the physical product of his will to smell and sound like Edward Cullen — enveloped her. It physically affected her senses, making the effect complete.

"I spent 90 years perfecting these gifts," he reminded her in Edward's gentle voice, "waiting for my opportunity for revenge. I've been patient for this long. We wait. If she's truly his mate, he'll return. He'll have no choice."

Victoria cocked her head to the side. She was ready to finish this — both her revenge and her alliance. "Maybe we don't give him one."

Albert leaned closer, intrigued. Too close. "Go on."

"The Cullens are expecting me eventually. So I let them see me. I let them chase me away. If he believes she's in danger, maybe he comes back to protect her."

A slow grin spread across the handsome face that looked exactly like Edward Cullen's. "Yes. Do it often enough, and they become complacent about leaving her alone when they chase you. They believe you to be the only threat. It will make my job easier, when the time comes."

Alice tried to think of a way to help Bella while still honoring her brother's noninterference wishes.

She really, really tried. She tried for several weeks after Edward asked. But it was now going on four months, total, since he had left, and there was only so much she could take.

She was supposed to meddle only to prevent certain death, right? Well, that was fine. Because at the rate she was going, Bella was certainly going to kill herself, sooner or later and one way or the other. The girl didn't eat. Apparently, she didn't sleep. She most definitely didn't take care of herself or even shop. All of those things could kill a human, right?

And in all seriousness, Alice didn't want to spend too much time examining Edward's likely reaction to Bella's death, were the worst to happen. Losing a brother wasn't in her immediate plan.

What Bella needed, desperately, was somebody to talk to. Somebody that she could be fully open with about what she was going through, without having to protect vampire secrets in the process. Somebody who had a hope of understanding what it would feel like to have one's mate ripped away with no warning.

In other words, not a human.

Well, that was a problem, because Bella only knew a few vampires, and she refused to speak to any of them at school. Or even look at them. Most especially Alice, who felt kind of like the unfair victim in a game of shoot-the-messenger. After the hundredth-or-so time the Cullens realized that their very presence made Bella clutch at her chest and look like she was about to double over, they had all started giving her a wide berth. Poor Emmett looked like a kicked puppy every time she looked right through him, though.

And then there were Edward's rules to consider, rules which Carlisle insisted they all follow.

So by process of elimination, if Alice and her siblings were forbidden to interact with Bella, she had a pretty good idea who Bella needed to unload on.

It just might kill two birds with one stone. Because what Edward needed, whether he thought so or not, was to hear the full truth of what was going on with Bella. He wouldn't let Alice tell him too much, probably because he knew, deep down where he wouldn't admit it, that he'd be on the next plane home if he found out just how poorly his mate was faring in his absence.

Of course, she had no doubt that her brother was faring even worse. She could hear it in his voice. The mate bond for him was even more powerful and binding than it was for Bella, as both a vampire and a male, so there was no doubt he was suffering as much or more than Bella.

All of that meant it was time to do something, and one thing was for certain: Alice wasn't going to make the mistake of trying to get his approval on her final plan.

She did not answer any more of his calls once she decided.

She did, on the other hand, go a little overboard blinging out one of the two matching pink items she purchased. But only one of them. Edward wasn't worthy of bling at the moment.

She knew exactly where he was, of course. He was in a slummy apartment in Brazil. She knew that because she'd convinced him, the very first time he called in after he left, to accept her friend locator app request so she could keep track of him.

Okay, maybe, technically, it was more like blackmail than convincing. She had just threatened to stop keeping tabs on his clumsy girlfriend and let Bella's own luck catch up with her if he didn't hit 'accept'. He growled at her furiously, but she got the notification that he'd approved her request before the sound was fully out of his mouth. So she at least knew where he was, right down to an address.

Alice, 1.

Modern technology, 1.

Edward, 0.

The idiot. God, she missed him.

When someone had the audacity to start relentlessly pounding on his door, when he hadn't had news from Forks for four days because Alice had mysteriously stopped taking his calls and he was already losing his mind, Edward nearly slipped for the first time in better than ninety years.

He didn't even want blood. Well, not in the literal sense. More the figurative one, if whoever was beating on his door didn't go the fuck away. He just wanted to be left alone. Horribly, miserably alone. Like he had been for the past four months. And if ripping off some lost stranger's head was what it took to achieve that, then he was sorely tempted.

With very little care for keeping a low profile, he snarled ferociously as he jerked open his door, pulling it completely off the top hinge, intent on intimidating his harasser into leaving quickly. But whether he cared to hunt or not, venom still pooled in his throat at the sudden explosion of scent, made more powerful by both his severely untended thirst and his long seclusion from humans.

It was close, honestly.

But then he stopped completely short, staring. The box being held out to him in trembling human hands was just as pink as it could be, and there were English words written on the side facing him, in a girly scrawl he recognized...Alice.

Don't kill the messenger. Just take the box.

The terrified courier was only all too happy to get out of there, practically throwing the box at him before beating a hasty retreat. Edward hadn't cared enough to deliberately scan anyone's thoughts in months, but curiosity got the better of him. Alice had a long reach and an even deeper wallet, apparently. The courier was getting enough money for his troubles that he had no intention of questioning anything he had just seen.

Edward slammed the door — as best he could with it hanging off the hinges — and forgot him instantly.

The pink cardboard shredded easily against his poorly controlled fingers. Finesse didn't interest him at the moment, any more than hunting did.

He stared at what he saw inside.

A pink cell phone?

Alice at least had his attention, if only because there was little doubt this had something to do with his desperate request for a way to help Bella. He searched the remains of the ill-fated pink box and found what he was looking for — a scrap of paper, also covered with Alice's distinctive handwriting.

She needs you. Answer this when it rings but don't say a word. All you have to do is listen.

—Alice

Frowning, he turned the little phone on.

He had one contact, a number he didn't recognize, but Alice had left little to chance in choosing a name for his one contact:

Mrs. Bella Swan Cullen.

Subtle.

And unnecessary. Alice had him at "she needs you", and she damn well knew it.

The days ran together for Bella. Or was it months now? She couldn't remember anymore. The dull ache that was constantly present in her chest never changed much, regardless, other than the times that it would erupt into blazing flames any time she heard his name. Him.

Fresh tears poked her eyes at the very thought of his name. She tried not to do that any more often than she could possibly help it.

Nothing was very interesting anymore.

At least not until the day that she walked in from school, like any other drudging, monotonous, lifeless day, and there was a pink package sitting on the table with her name on it.

It could be anything. It could be from anybody. It could be new socks and underwear from her mom...well, if she had the kind of mother who did responsible things like that. So...probably not socks and underwear.

But her heart was racing, regardless. She couldn't say how, but she knew...it was something to do with him.

She ripped it open, more color coming into her cheeks than had been seen in four months, two days, and twenty-three hours. Okay, so maybe she did remember.

She was holding her breath when she lifted out the exquisitely jeweled ceramic box and opened the lid. She blinked at the contents, not sure what she had expected, only knowing this wasn't it.

It was a cell phone. A pretty pastel pink she would have never chosen and way too flashy for her taste, but a cell phone nonetheless. The entire thing just screamed Alice. Her heart beat faster as she found the note attached.

If you need someone just to listen, call this number. I can't do more without breaking my own promises.

Love, Alice.

There was a phone number, one with a Forks area code.

Was it possible to be both crushingly disappointed and thoroughly excited at the same time? On the one hand, she felt the crushing blow that this had nothing to do with Edward, after all. On the other, would Alice be bothering with her at all if there wasn't still some hope, even just the tiniest sliver of it?

Three days passed while she tried to work up the nerve to call the number. She wasn't sure what talking to Alice would do to her. She only saw the Cullens at school, and even then, they avoided her nearly as carefully as she avoided them. It just hurt too much to be near them, seeing them in their blissfully coupled states of existence. On the phone, it might be different. And then again, it might not. Should she risk it?

But on the third night, the little phone rang on its own, without her having to make the choice.

She had no contacts, but she already knew the number by heart. It was the number Alice had written on the note that came with the phone.

Bella stared at it, very unsure what she wanted to do.

In the end, the thought of Charlie popping into her room to ask who was calling — and where and how she had obtained a pink cell phone — was her motivation for answering it.

"Hello?" she asked quietly, voice trembling.

No one answered.

"Who's there?"

A long pause.

"Edward?" she whispered, letting the name rake across her throat like tiny razor blades.

Still no answer.

Someone just to listen, the note had said. Can't do more...

Apparently, Alice had meant that literally. This was going to be a one-sided conversation.

Bella's eyes closed. Hope that she hadn't realized she was harboring splintered into a million tiny pieces.

"So Alice, then." It was statement, not question. "It's okay, Alice. I don't mean to sound disappointed. I've missed you too."

TO BE CONTINUED...