*EPOV*

It was nearly dawn when Bella finally fell asleep in my arms. As the early morning sunlight began to filter into the room, I first noticed a slight difference in Bella's scent. My throat burned a degree or two hotter than usual.

At first, I chalked this up to the little bit of bleeding that had happened as a result of our union. But as she slept and the night turned into day, the smell of blood only got stronger.

And then I watched horror-struck as her snow-white skin began to slowly show signs of damage.

No. Oh no. Oh God, please, no. She was fine. She was perfect, she said. Exceptionally good. I scoffed in disgust at how I'd patted myself on the back after she'd said that...Why didn't she tell me? She promised me she would tell me!

It was an especially effective form of torture watching those pink welts—perfect impressions of my own two hands—turn an angry shade of red, then deepen into hues of blue and purple.

It was like watching a polaroid photo develop straight out of my worst nightmare. And those were only the bruises I could see. God only knew what the rest of her looked like under the quilt.

I clenched my fists, undecided at which one of us to be angrier with. Myself, of course, I thought bitterly. I'd known how dangerous this would be even if she refused to see the peril.

What if the damage was worse than mere bruising? My anxiety spiked. She could be laying here internally bleeding to death in my arms because I was too weak to refuse her! Because I was selfish...despicable enough to try to buy her hand in marriage with my venom.

I shamefully covered my face with my hand squeezing my temples between thumb and middle finger in a grip that would have pulverized solid titanium.

Carlisle had told me he was proud of me when I'd updated him that everything had gone smoothly and that his assistance wouldn't be needed. And now I had to call him back and tell him that his pride was misplaced.

Christ, what will Bella say when she sees what I've done to her? Probably nothing, I snorted with derision.

She'll lie through her teeth, again, and tell me she's fine. What bruises, Edward? I mocked her husky alto voice under my breath. Oh, these? That's nothing. Hey, look! No stitches or staples in my skull this time. That's good, right?

My phone felt about as heavy in my hand as my conscience did when I finally picked it up off the nightstand and dialed my father. He wasn't expecting another call from me. He picked up halfway through the first ring,

"Edward? What's happened?" His concern was palpable. I said nothing for a good five seconds, unsure of what even to say.

"Edward? Are you there? You're scaring me, son."

An agonized moan, "I...I thought she was fine. She said she was fine, but-"

"Bella's hurt?" He asked urgently. "How badly? I can be there in 30 minutes if I leave now."

"I'm not sure. She's sleeping now. Her vitals are stable, but the bruises, Carlisle. There are so many bruises," I said in a broken whisper. "I wasn't sure if I should wake her up to see how badly she's hurt, or let her sleep. She's got to be exhausted and jetlagged."

"Any broken bones that you can ascertain? Head or spinal injuries?"

"I don't think so. She didn't seem to have any pain or injuries when she went to sleep, but maybe she's a better actress than I gave her credit for," I finished acidly.

"From what you're saying, it sounds like she got a little banged up but will be ok. Seems very unlikely that she'd be able to sleep through a critical injury if she sustained one... unless she also has a concussion. But as you say, she didn't injure her head. For my own peace of mind, though, can you check her abdomen for any significant bruising or swelling. That could be indicative of internal bleeding."

I nodded into the phone as if he could see me. Careful not to disturb Bella, I peeled back a corner of the duvet to expose her hip and a semi-obstructed view of her torso.

I exhaled sharply in relief finding her midsection to be largely unmarked. Other than some nasty-looking stripes on her hip, none of the contusions were any worse than anything I'd seen so far.

"Her abdomen looks fine," I reported into the phone in a detached voice.

"Good! That's good!... Edward, look, I know how you must be feeling right now, son, but try not to beat yourself up-"

"With all due respect, Carlisle, you couldn't possibly know how I'm feeling right now. When have you ever hurt anybody? My wife looks like she's gone nine rounds with Chris Brown and it's my fault. She has my handprints on her for god's sake," I hissed into the phone, trying to keep my voice down.

In a perfectly calm voice, he asked, "You really have to ask me that? Of all people, Edward, you know better than anyone the guilt and responsibility I carry for Rose's discontent in this life. Bella will heal. And under the circumstances, I think you managed as well or better than anyone could have expected…"

"As well or better? You thought this would happen and you didn't try to talk us out of this insanity?" I seethed.

"Edward, be reasonable. If she wouldn't heed your warnings, do you really think my opinion on the subject would have changed her mind?"

He must've heard the concession in my stony silence because he didn't let me answer.

"May I be frank with you? What's insanity, son, is proposing marriage as terms of a business transaction! Marriage for immortality with an intercourse clause?" I could practically hear him shaking his head in incredulity. "Not one of your finer moments there, kiddo. Now, you know as well as I do that I'm not the one you're angry with. So let's cut to the chase.

"Did I think there was a good chance that you might experience some...difficulties? Of course. She's human, Edward! But Esme and I never would have offered up the island if I thought she would come to serious harm. You have to know that."

"So the morphine was-"

"For your peace of mind, Edward, not mine. The very same reason I'm here."

"Thank you, Carlisle. Forgive me. I was way out of line to question your intentions," I said in a calmer voice, deeply ashamed for lashing out at him.

"There's nothing to forgive. And I think Bella will say the same thing. She knew the risks and she willingly consented. You're not to blame for your strength any more than she is to blame for her human frailties. It's just something you're going to have to carefully navigate until she's been changed."

"That'll be easy...because nothing else is going to happen between us until she's immortal. Thank you again, for being here for us, Carlisle. But feel free to go home to Esme. Bella won't be in any more danger from me while we're here," I said definitively.

"Edward," his tone cautioned, "I would talk to Bella before you make any hard and fast decis-"

"What is there to talk about? I will never hurt her again, and there's nothing she can say that would change my mind about that."

Carlisle sighed on the other end of the line. "Ok, Edward. Whatever you think is best."

I frowned. It was always disconcerting whenever he said that. It meant he thought I was wrong but that he didn't think I'd listen to reason.

The last time he'd resignedly used those words, I'd made the biggest mistake of my existence by pigheadedly insisting my family leave Bella behind without so much as a farewell.

"I'll be in touch," I said, ending the call.

I looked over at Bella again, still sleeping soundly. Her full lips curved into a faint smile.

The shadows along her cheekbone and curving around her shoulder darkened a shade in the short time that I'd been on the phone.

Human eyes wouldn't have noticed the subtle differences, but I could see every broken capillary within the bloodstained layers of her dermis with perfect acuity.

I jerked my head away in disgust. I was a monster, the worst kind of monster for ever having agreed to this. It was my own selfish desire to marry her, possess her, to never again have to worry about losing her to Jacob Black or someone else like him that had compromised my judgment so thoroughly.

Not your finest moment there, kiddo. Carlisle's generous assessment echoed in my ears. He only called me "kiddo" when I was behaving like a boy of 17, not a man of 105, I recoiled. That stung.

I sat up slightly, leaning backward through the missing chunk of headboard that had been gouged out during last night's...assault, to lean directly against the drywall.

I screwed my eyes shut, playing the night over again in my head, frame for frame. Hyperfocused on her pleasure as well as her wellbeing, my eyes had seldom left her face.

Apart from the initial penetration, any expression of pain was absent from my flawless memory. I had no explanation for her current abused state except to say that I was a loathsome monster who didn't deserve to taint the air she breathed much less share her bed. On some level, I'd always known that.

As the sun climbed higher in the sky, Bella began to stir in my arms. The rhythm of her breathing changed, but she had yet to open her eyes. As she roused, my fingers brushed weightlessly over some of the darker purple splotches on her back, wishing I could erase them.

I had been expecting her to wake up in misery from the pain that would almost certainly be catching up with her today, so the sound of her giggle caught me by surprise. "What's funny?" I murmured into her hair.

Before she could respond, the loud gurgle of her growling stomach filled the room.

"You just can't escape being human for very long," she replied with a smile in her voice. I said nothing in response, not even remotely in the mood to make small talk about inconsequentials. I could feel her gaze on me, but I kept my eyes forward, staring unseeingly at the canopy.

If there was disgust in her eyes, I couldn't bear to see it. And if there wasn't...that might enrage me even more.

Seeming to pick up on my thorny mood, she asked with uncharacteristic obtusity, "Edward, what is it? What's wrong?"

"You have to ask?" I muttered in a harsher tone than I had intended. Bella's brow furrowed anxiously, her marred face twisted with concern.

I smoothed the worried "v" between her eyes with the tip of my finger. "What are you thinking?" I braced for her response.

"You're upset. I don't understand. Did I…?" Her unspoken question trailed off. I clenched my jaw. Leave it to Bella to assume the blame for the worst of my failures.

"How badly are you hurt, Bella? The truth-don't try to downplay it." My tone sounded like an accusation.

"Hurt?" She squeaked. I raised an eyebrow at her. Classic Bella, I thought, here comes the denial.

"Why would you jump to that conclusion?" There was a defensive edge to her voice. "I've never been better than I am now."

I closed my eyes in frustration. Was she really going to look me in the eyes with a near shiner and try to deny any wrongdoing? I couldn't bear it.

"Stop that," I said in a clipped tone.

"Stop what?"

I growled in frustration, clenching my fists against the warm skin of her back. "Stop acting like I'm not a monster for having agreed to this," I demanded, my voice rising a few decibels. I took a deep breath to calm the fury swelling in my chest.

"Edward!" An incensed whisper, "Don't ever say that!"

I couldn't look at her. I couldn't watch her bruised, swollen face form the words.

"Look at yourself, Bella," I gritted through my teeth. "Then tell me I'm not a monster."

My eyes snapped open anxiously at the sound of her gasp. Was she in pain?

She ran her fingers through her hair, watching uncomprehendingly as downy feathers snowed down around her.

"Why am I covered in feathers?"

I huffed impatiently. "I bit a pillow. Or two. That's not what I'm talking about," I said flatly.

"You…bit a pillow? Why?"

Of course, she'd get hung up on that, I fumed. I took her hand, as gently as if she were made of spider silk, and stretched out her arm. "Look, Bella! Look at that."

To drive the point home, I splayed my fingers over the identical purple welts that marred the skin of her forearm.

"Oh," was all she said.

Oh? I bellowed inside my own head. Oh, what? Oh...you monster. Oh... Jake was right. Oh... take me home, I'm leaving you? I waited with bated breath for what she'd say next. The longer the silence drew out between us, the further my anxiety spiraled.

If she only permitted me to say one last thing, let it be this. "I'm…" Vile. Revolting. Unworthy. "...so sorry, Bella. I knew better than this. I should not have-" I choked on my own revulsion. "I am more sorry than I can tell you."

I threw my arm over my face, unwilling to see well-deserved disgust in her eyes, and even less willing to see grace.

I felt the feather-light touch of her hand warm my arm. She spoke my name in a hushed voice as if to console.

Grace, then. I ground my teeth; I couldn't bear it.

"Edward?" She asked in a higher octave when I didn't respond. A stronger touch now, like being gripped by the foot of a baby bird. She pulled ineffectually at my wrist.

"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-"

If she finished that sentence, I would certainly lose what was left of my composure. "Do not say the word fine. If you value my sanity, do not say that you are fine."

"But I am," she insisted.

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

"No. You don't, Edward," she argued in a suddenly accusatory tone.

Anger. Finally a rational response. I uncovered my face with my arm. Ever the masochist, there was nothing my guilty conscience desired more than to be on the receiving end of her fury. It was no less than I deserved, and at least it was a reaction I understood.

"Don't ruin this," she gritted her teeth. "I. Am. Happy." I almost laughed at the disparity between her words and her razor-sharp tone.

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

"Ugh!" She threw her hands up in the air in exasperation. "Why can't you just read my mind already? It's so inconvenient to be a mental mute!"

That was the last thing I had expected her to say. She loved that I couldn't read her mind, a fact that I reminded her of.

"Not today," she shook her head for emphasis.

I looked at her appraisingly. "Why?" I asked, wary now.

She clapped her hands down on my chest with a loud thwack. Normally "angry kitten Bella," as I referred to this sort of behavior, would amuse me, but I was distracted by her slight wince when her hands made contact.

"Because all of 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."

And then she had the temerity to tell me I was killing her buzz. I rolled my eyes. When she had told me on the eve of our wedding day that I "loved a ridiculous woman," she didn't know how right she had been.

Her tone softened then. "We knew this was going to be tricky. I thought that was assumed..."

She prattled on about how amazing it was, how unfazed she was by the bruises, but I could barely concentrate on the words with the figurative steam building between my ears.

"Assumed?" My voice was deadly. "Did you expect this, Bella? Were you anticipating that I would hurt you? Were you thinking it would be worse?..."

As it turned out, like Carlisle, it would seem that Bella's faith in me only extended so far. When we hatched this agreement, she told me she believed I loved her too much to hurt her, and therefore I wouldn't. But what she really meant was that I loved her just enough not to kill her?

I thought about how nervous she seemed when we first arrived here at the island. She was so tense...near hysterics in the bathroom before she joined me in the water.

I misinterpreted that as virginal nerves when really she was, what, building up the courage to get maimed? By me? I reeled at that. How could she?...Why would she? How could she put me through that knowing how destroyed I'd be? For what? To tick off an activity from her bucket list?

My fists clenched convulsively at my sides. I closed my eyes, needing to get a grip on my temper before I said anything else. Mercifully, she backed off while I regained some semblance of composure. I let out a long breath through my nose.

Unnerved by her continued silence, I opened my eyes. And then… Bella's eyes softened, and her voice dropped to a husky whisper as she told me with unmistakable sincerity how wonderful and perfect she considered the previous night to be.

Her gaze dropped to her hands as blood rushed to her cheeks. She started to backpedal then, suddenly self-conscious and uncertain of what my experience had been or if I had even enjoyed myself.

I nudged her chin up to look at me.

"Is that what you're worried about?" I asked, horrified.

Enjoy was far too paltry a word for how well it described what it felt like to make love to my wife. It was the single most terrifying, electrifying, and ultimately gratifying experience of my entire existence! How could she doubt that?

The feel of her soft, warm body yielding to my hard, cold one was like nothing I could have imagined or prepared for. She was so hot, almost painfully hot, and impossibly tight around me.

When I broke through her thin barrier, burying myself inside her, something inside me snapped, too, along with the headboard.

I needed to stop, to be still, but it was near impossible to stop. Almost as impossible as it was to not drain her myself at the ballet studio. My baser instincts battled for priority with the stronger ones to protect my reason for being.

The need to protect Bella, as instinctive now as my own self-preservation, won out as it always did.

Her face twisted with pain acted like liquid nitrogen to my heated extremities. I froze in place, waiting for her to adjust or change her mind completely.

Gradually, her face had smoothed out, and her white-knuckled grip on me loosened. And then...despite all my anxiety and catastrophizing, loving Bella came as naturally as breathing.

After the initial shock wore off, it hadn't taken as much of my concentration as I'd expected to reach down and stroke her face or trail my fingers along the gentle curve of her breast. But apparently, my concentration left something to be desired I thought sourly.

Regardless of what I had done to her, that I left her doubting for one moment just how completely rapturous I felt in the warmth of her embrace was inexcusable.

Bella's downcast eyes raised to meet my gaze. I frowned, "It would seem 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 life. But I don't want to think of it that way, not when you were…"

I was about to say 'hurt in the process' when her small voice broke in, interrupting me.

"Really? The best ever?" she asked in wide-eyed disbelief.

Would she ever see herself clearly? Or understand the power she wielded over me with those soulful brown eyes and that irresistible pout?

I explained to her what a powerful experience it had been for me, so much more so than even Carlisle or my brothers had led me to expect. Her expectations, she wholeheartedly agreed, had also been exceeded.

I dismissively turned my face away from her. "But that doesn't change the fact that it was wrong. Even if it were possible that you really did feel that way."

Her eyes widened, incensed. Outraged, she asked if I was accusing her of dishonesty.

I admitted my suspicions that she was being less than honest with me to assuage my guilt. It wouldn't be the first time she let me off the hook too easily for my boorish behavior, and I wasn't about to let this slide, even if she meant to.

Then Bella grabbed me by the chin and drew her face close to mine. Her eyes narrowed fiercely, and the set of her jaw was determined.

"You listen to me, Edward Cullen…"

Her warm breath whirled in my face as she went on a furious tirade about how happy she was, using the vivid imagery of every heart-stopping, death-defying moment of our short courtship to illustrate her passionately-delivered monologue.

"...Those are the happiest memories I have, and this is better than any of it. So just deal with it!"

She folded her arms petulantly across her chest. The skin between her brows creased into an angry 'v.'

I sighed. No amount of moping would erase the damage I'd caused. And dwelling on it would just ruin her experience more thoroughly than I already had.

I would just have to suck it up and try to make sure she enjoyed herself exploring the hidden pleasures of this island, rather than her husband. I vowed to do what I could to make her happy.

She smiled mischievously, and I sensed she was about to make a provocative suggestion about how to ensure her happiness. I was saved by her growling stomach. I hopped out of bed, a cloud of downy feathers drifting lazily to the floor.

"So why exactly did you decide to ruin Esme's pillows?" Bella patted the duvet, stirring up another plume of feathers.

At the time, I had been making love to her from behind, spooning her, while lying on our sides. I carefully curved my body into the heated juncture of hers. My hand on her hip sought the leverage to pull her even closer to me as my hips pumped rhythmically into her enticingly rounded backside.

When I felt my release coming, I braced myself with hands fisted into the sheets. I turned my face away and sank my teeth safely into the pillow under my head. My venom drenched the fabric mere inches from the flushed, fragrant skin of her neck pulsing rapidly with her sweet blood. The protective membrane was as thin as plastic wrap, but not as durable.

But this release was nothing like the ones I'd experienced by my own hand after a good many of our more heated evenings spent together.

No, this was…a detonation. The intensity of it frightened me so much that I launched myself from the bed for fear of hurting her, taking out one of the corner posts of the bed in a shower of splinters in my haste.

Flooded by emotion, sensation, and a staggering sense of relief for having avoided the catastrophes I'd agonized about since the night Bella and I got engaged, I laid sprawled out on the middle of the floor having something of a delayed-onset panic attack.

"Edward," she called out in the dark, her voice tinged with concern.

I was at her side in an instant. I took her face in my hands, "Are you alright?" I rasped, searching her face for any signs of distress.

She assured me she was perfect and drifted off almost immediately into a dreamless sleep, her warm little body hugged tightly to mine in the stone circle of my arms.

Jarred from my abstraction, I answered her finally. "I don't know if I decided to do anything last night," I mused, trying in vain to shake off the dark thoughts of what might have happened. "We're just lucky it was the pillows and not you!" I added darkly.

While I quickly dressed, Bella slid her legs over the side of the bed. Her feet not quite touching the floor, she gave a little hop, staggering momentarily, and was on her feet.

She stretched her arms above her head and it was then I could see the full extent of the damage I'd done illuminated by the bright light of the morning sun. The rays seemed to point accusingly to the swaths of blue and purple now marbling her fair skin.

I gasped and turned away, another wave of revulsion washing over me.

"Do I look that hideous?" she asked, working to keep the edge out of her voice, but not quite succeeding. I was about to tell her that hideous was a word better suited for monsters like myself, but remembering my earlier resolve not to mope, I kept my thoughts to myself.

I waited expectantly, holding my breath, as she looked herself over in the mirror. Would she reconsider the grace she had shown me when she saw the totality of what I had done?

And then she groaned, low and rife with anguish. I was behind her, watching her in the mirror before she finished making the sound.

"Bella?" I asked, wondering anxiously what new injury I had inflicted.

She pointed to her hair and moaned "I'll never get this all out of my hair!" plucking ineffectually at the feathers. Relief washed through me, and then I barked out a humorless laugh.

"You would be worried about your hair." I plucked the white wisps out of her hair, careful not to pull her silky strands.

After a while, Bella gave up and decided to try washing it out in the shower. She wound her arms around my waist and invited me to join her. My face falling ever so slightly, I quickly extricated myself from her hold, politely declining by excusing myself to make her breakfast.

I opened my laptop and placed it on the white marble countertop next to the never-used gas range.

I watched a video of a plump brunette woman who called herself the Barefoot Contessa swirl an omelet around a frying pan.

How hard could it be? Though Bella would have to explain to me what good cheese was. Was there such a thing as bad cheese to a human? I quickly laid out a few strips of bacon on a skillet to fry.

Retrieving the carton of eggs from the fridge, I cracked one into a bowl, frowning at the brown shards of shrapnel floating in the clear viscous ooze of raw egg. I poured the mess out into the sink, rinsing the bowl, and tried again.

Once more...with finesse this time, Cullen. I was suddenly glad Bella was in the shower where she couldn't witness my blunder. If she was determined to think I was perfect at everything, well far be it for me to shatter the illusion.

I sighed. She couldn't possibly think I was perfect at everything now, I thought sardonically. Suddenly the eggshell seemed like a metaphor. My shoulders sagged in defeat. Did it have to be this one task in which I was humbled before her eyes? The shame licked at me like tongues of fire scorching me down to my bones.

I narrowed my eyes with renewed determination. I would not fail at this. With a feather-light tap on the counter, I gently cracked another egg. Holding it over the bowl, I pulled the shell apart into two neat halves.

I smiled at the golden orb sliding around the bowl. Right. Easy. I cracked two more and whisked them into a pale yellow froth.

I flipped the bacon over and the grease sizzled and spattered. A smear of hot grease landed painlessly on my forearm. I looked at it with mild disgust and wiped it away. Once the bacon was crisped to a rusty reddish-brown, I dropped the strips of bacon onto a plate lined with paper towel using tongs strictly to keep clean, not as any sort of measure to protect the armor that was my skin.

Following the instructions of the smarmy woman on my computer screen, I used the small amount of bacon grease left in the pan to cook the omelet.

Pork fat, how bad can that be? The plump pink woman on the screen who vaguely resembled a pig laughed excessively at her own bad joke while her coffee-colored hair bobbed around her chin.

"I don't know, Ina, you tell me," I muttered haplessly to the screen.

Hmm, that was a decent amount of protein, but she'd need carbohydrates to keep up her energy if I was going to keep her out on the island all day. I slid two slices of bread into the toaster.

Perfect timing, I thought, as Bella padded barefoot into the room in a flattering white frock. Her dark, damp, feather-free hair hung down to hide her shoulders. I folded the omelet onto itself on a pale blue dish, concealing the bubbly orange cheese inside, and seasoned liberally with salt and pepper. I hoped it was good cheese, I snorted to myself as I slid the plate in front of her with a smile.

I noted with some concern that she started shoveling eggs down her throat as if she'd just gotten out of prison.

"I'm not feeding you often enough," I muttered with dismay as I pulled up a chair to sit across the table from her.

"I was asleep," she countered, chewing on a piece of toast. She generously complimented my cooking, which pleased me no small amount. It would seem the old adage was true. You did need to break a few eggs to make an omelet, I thought wryly.

We chatted amiably as she ate her breakfast, and in a shockingly short amount of time, Bella had cleared her plate and washed it down with a glass of orange juice. She placed her palms on the table as she stood, leaning in for a kiss. I was careful to kiss her back, not wanting to hurt her feelings, but I kept it brief, pulling away before either one of us could deepen the kiss.

I knew if Bella got her sweet mouth on me for more than a moment my will would crumble into dust. Total abstinence was the only way to keep her safe. I was sure she'd be angry, but angry was better than hurt, and I would never hurt her again.

And that's exactly what I told her when she asked me with a heartbreakingly forlorn expression if I'd touch her again while we were there on the island.

I raised my palm to cup her cheek, my thumb ghosting over the purple shadow along her cheekbone.

"You're right," I squared my jaw, resolved. "I will not make love with you until you've been changed. I will never hurt you again."

**A/N** Hi all! Wishing you all a wonderful, restful weekend! Thank you, as always, for sticking with me this far, and especially for the incredibly kind and encouraging comments you've left chapter after chapter. I can't tell you how much your thoughtful feedback motivates me to sit down and write! Like Edward, I'm dying to know what you think. Stay safe, and be well! I'll try to get the next one up ASAP.