Contest entry for the Thirst Vampfic Contest
Title: A Debt to the Darkness
Summary: Sent to pay a debt, Isabella finds more than she was expecting at Masen Manor. Will her mysterious new benefactor demand more from her than she is prepared to give? Or will she demand from him more than he is willing to grant?
Disclaimer: The author does not own any publicly recognizable characters herein. No copyright infringement is intended.
A Debt to the Darkness
The carriage jolted and swayed as it traversed the muddy, rut-covered roadway. The rain slowed to a mere drizzle, pit-patting on the roof in a constant tattoo. A damp chill settled over the forest, the rain only tightening its grip on the cold. Isabella pulled her cloak tighter around her. The dismal view made the journey less enjoyable than she'd hoped it would be.
After all, it might have been the last time she would lay eyes on anything outside the walls of Masen Manor.
Promised to a man she could scarcely remember, Isabella was told of her fate nearly every day for the last ten years of her life. The details of the day she met Lord Masen were foggy—recollections of a child weren't very reliable—but she could recall the velvety timbre of his voice and the darkness of his features as he spoke to her father. She remembered Lord Masen listening to Charles plead for leniency, the mysterious man's eyes never leaving her.
She accompanied her father, a tenant farmer, as he went before the man who owned the land he worked. Behind on his rent and unable to pay, Charles was forced to beg at the feet of the man who would decide his fate. Rumors swirled in the village that Lord Masen could be persuaded with promises of hands to work in his home. And it was with that goal in mind Charles Swan visited that fateful day, ultimately promising his daughter would be delivered on the day she began her eighteenth year.
That day had come.
With a sudden lurch, Isabella was jerked from her memories. Peering out the window, the view from the carriage changed. The road began a slow rise, leading them higher toward their destination. The skies darkened as they ascended. She was grateful for the lamps lit by the footman before she began her journey, for the forest surrounding Masen Manor held its own dark secrets. Too many men had gone in to hunt, never to return.
As the road leveled, Masen Manor came into view in the fading twilight. Dark and sharp, guarded by gargoyles at each point on the roof, it was a stark difference from the cottage in which she was raised. The manor was large and imposing, overwhelming in every sense.
The carriage came to a shuddering stop as the coachman called out to the horses, "Whoa!"
Isabella licked her lips, moistening them as her heart raced. While she'd known of her fate for more than half her life, she still didn't know what Lord Masen intended to do with her once she arrived. She wrung her hands and closed her eyes as she concentrated on her breathing.
It would do no good to succumb to her nerves.
The door of the carriage swung open, and the Lord's footman held out his scarred hand. "Welcome to Masen Manor, Miss Swan. We've been expecting you."
She took his hand and stepped from the carriage, careful to watch her footing. "Thank you."
His reply was a nod as he released her hand. "This way."
Isabella looked over her shoulder. The road she'd traveled faded into the tree line, and she briefly wondered if she would ever travel it again.
"Miss Swan?"
Quickly, she turned back to the path and dutifully followed, scurrying to catch up to the footman. "My apologies."
She was led through the door and into the vestibule. Lamps and candles illuminated the great hall, highlighting the rich paintings and heavy tapestries that hung from the walls. Nothing had changed in the many years since she last visited.
"Lord Masen will meet with you once you have refreshed yourself."
She met the curious gaze of the footman. "Of course."
"Perhaps after you've had your evening meal he will have risen."
Her brow furrowed at the odd statement. "Risen, sir?"
The corner of his mouth lifted. "Yes. He sleeps when most of us are awake. He prefers the ... quiet of the night." He cleared his throat. "If you'll follow me."
She followed him through the halls leading deeper into the manor, up a winding staircase and through another corridor until finally, they arrived at an open door. The footman ushered her forward with a sweeping motion of his hand.
"Your chamber, Miss Swan."
Isabella stepped past him and into the center of the room. A fire was lit in the hearth, driving away the chill and lighting the space. A dressing table was positioned to reflect the light of the fire in the looking glass, and a large wardrobe stood proudly against the wall. But the most striking feature of the room was the over-sized bed in the center of it all. Curtained and piled high with quilts and pillows, Isabella had never seen such an inviting sight.
It was certainly nothing like the servant's room she'd been expecting.
"I trust this will be satisfactory?"
She smiled. "More than."
"Very well. Take what time you need to freshen up."
"Thank you, sir."
He returned her smile, the light of the fire glinting off the raised, silvered scars at his throat. "Please, call me Jasper."
Isabella's cheeks pinked. "Thank you, Jasper."
After showing Isabella how to ring if she needed anything, Jasper excused himself, promising to send for her when her new master required her presence.
Needing a moment to herself, Isabella removed her bonnet and sat on the settee. She closed her eyes and allowed her mind to drift. Masen Manor was not at all what she anticipated. She'd expected to be banished to the kitchen or the stables to work off the debt her father accrued. But her reception thus far had been one of a guest, not one of an employee.
She had little time to ponder it further before her trunk was delivered. Knowing she could be called at any moment for the evening meal, she quickly changed out of her traveling clothes and into the nicest dress she owned.
The lone, formal frock she'd been given before she departed her home was a deep blue and fit Isabella like it had been made for her. Her father had kept it hidden in a trunk until she was packing her belongings, giving her no explanation of its sudden presence.
Finally, adorned in silk, lace, and ribbons, she left the comfort of her room and followed the young woman sent to retrieve her. Passing through the halls, Isabella noticed the sun had completely set, the moon taking its place above the trees outside the manor windows.
"This way, my lady," the young woman said as they approached a doorway. She stopped and motioned toward the room. "Lord Masen will be with you shortly."
"Thank you." Isabella walked past her and into the sitting room. Much like her bedchamber, a fire was lit and comfortable furniture filled the space. But instead of sitting to wait for her benefactor, she walked the periphery of the room, examining the paintings and books displayed. Her fingertips danced along the edge of a particularly thick tome.
Charles Swan was not a learned man. He felt his coin was better spent on more practical goods. Isabella never had the luxury of opening such a thing simply to have a look at the pages. The temptation to peer inside was too great, and Isabella could not help but to pull one of the leather-bound volumes from the shelf.
The elegant curl and twist of the script inside was beautiful to her, even if she couldn't understand what the markings meant. Penned with flourish, the words inside the book stirred new emotions in Isabella. Tears stung her eyes, and she knew not why.
"I did not think you could read."
The commanding voice behind her made Isabella turn on her heel. Standing before her was the man whom she remembered meeting as a young girl of seven. Though a decade had passed, he still looked the way she remembered him. His hair was dark, swept back from his youthful face. His dark eyes were accented with what appeared to be kohl, making them appear infinitely deeper. The cut of his jaw, the deep red of his lips, and the sharpness of his cheekbones made him appear otherworldly.
Isabella had never seen such a beautiful man.
Embarrassment flooded her cheeks at being caught rifling through his belongings and she dropped her eyes to the floor. "Please excuse me. I did not—"
"I say again, I did not think you could read." He took a step inside the room, tilting his head as he studied her.
Sensing a rebuke in his statement, she looked up. "I cannot, My Lord."
"Then what were you doing, child?"
She wrung her hands for a moment before forcing them apart, instead focusing on smoothing her skirts. "I was struck by the beauty of the book."
He took several steps in her direction, seeming to glide over the carpets. "The beauty?"
She swallowed thickly and nodded, willing away her nerves. "Yes." Her gaze flickered to the book, still lying open on the side table. "The script alone nearly brought tears to my eyes." She gazed up at Lord Masen, who was now looking intently at her. "It is beautiful."
"Nearly?" He reached for her, his fingertip brushing softly over her cheek, wiping away a single tear.
The sensation of his skin on hers sent a shiver up Isabella's spine, her breath catching as this beautiful man touched her.
His expression softened. "It is not often I meet anyone with such an appreciation of the written word." He removed his hand, but his eyes never left hers. "Especially someone who could not understand it." He tilted his head and murmured, "Perhaps this will be a different arrangement than I planned."
"My Lord?"
"Come," he ordered, abruptly turning to walk from the room. "While we dine, we will discuss what is next."
...
The dining room was every bit as opulent as the other rooms. By Isabella's estimation, the table could seat more than a dozen, yet Lord Masen had chosen to seat her immediately to his right.
He was intrigued by the beauty at his side. In all his years, he could not remember ever laying eyes on such an unassuming vision. And she was a vision, dressed in the gown he'd hand selected and made sure was delivered to her home before she set out for Masen Manor.
Somehow, he knew the color would be striking on her.
He could remember seeing her for the first time, smelling her for the first time, and he had waited far too long to finally have her within his grasp. Even when Isabella was a child of seven, Lord Masen knew the call of her blood was strong. And it had only bloomed in the years since.
It was not the only thing that had blossomed.
Her transition into womanhood had been kind. Isabella's form was inviting. The pale flesh of her neck, delicate and floral, called to him. Faint freckles were sprinkled across the tops of her breasts, the supple roundness spilling out of the top of her gown. Her tiny waist was a consequence of her upbringing; the life of a farmer's daughter was all too familiar with hunger. But the curve of her hips enticed him to find out what lay beneath her skirts.
It was something he had not anticipated.
"How did you find your room?" he asked, bringing a goblet to his lips.
Mesmerized, Isabella watched him drink, his Adam's apple bobbing as he swallowed. When he pulled the goblet away from his mouth, he licked his lips, wiping away the traces of the deep red liquid.
He cleared his throat, releasing Isabella from the trance she was under.
"It was unexpected, My Lord."
"Unexpected?"
Her brows knit together as she stared down at her lap. "I was not expecting a room so ... lavish." She looked up then, meeting the intense stare of her mysterious benefactor. "I did not expect to be treated as a guest."
"What did you expect?"
"I believed I was brought here to work. I expected to be put to work in the kitchens ... to be a housemaid, or to work in your stables." She bit at her bottom lip before releasing it. "I do not understand how am I to pay back my father's debt as a guest, My Lord."
The blood rushing to the surface of her skin where her teeth had abused the delicate flesh was a distraction. Lord Masen forced himself to tear his eyes away and meet her questioning gaze.
"You have been brought here as my companion."
"Companion?"
"Yes. I am in need of someone to"—he tilted his head and paused, unsure of how to phrase his expectations—"occupy my time," he finally said. "I am a lonely man, Miss Swan. I am also very busy and keep odd hours. I wish to have someone to talk to, someone to whom I can teach the things that interest me."
"Are you not in need of a wife, then, My Lord?"
He smirked at her candor, his fingers dancing along the edge of his goblet. "I have very ... singular tastes, one might say. Not many people tolerate my peculiar habits for very long."
Isabella could not believe what she was hearing. How this handsome man, one who owned the vast lands surrounding them, could be in want of companionship and feel he could not take a wife was beyond her comprehension. But as she tried to grasp what he was telling her, she came to a realization.
When he said he wished for companionship, perhaps she was there to serve him in ways in which the women in her village had warned her against. She was warned of the fleshly appetites of men and told to keep her distance lest she lose her virtue. It was the only thing of worth for a farmer's daughter, something to entice a man to take her off her father's hands when the time came.
Her body began to tremble and she swallowed hard. Surely, her father would not have agreed to this arrangement had he known Lord Masen intended for her to—
"Am I to warm your bed?" she whispered, her voice shaking along with the rest of her.
"No." He raised his glass, hiding his widening smirk behind it and licking his lips. His eyes lingered on her exposed décolletage before meeting her gaze. "But perhaps someday, Miss Swan."
...
Isabella removed her dress, and as the silk and lace drifted to the ground, a chill raced through the room. Her pert nipples puckered beneath the soft linen that covered them, and gooseflesh broke out across her skin. She turned in the direction of the whistling noise coming from across the room. A biting draft slipped through the crack of the door leading to the balcony. Dressed in only her shift, she hurried across the room, pulling the door tighter and securing the latch.
As she gazed through the glass, out into the dark of night, there was something ... beyond, some kind of force pulling at something deep inside her. The sensation rushed through her, down to the marrow of her bones and the secret places hidden beneath her shift. It was forceful, sudden, nearly bowling her over like a winter gale and filling her with both excitement and trepidation. It was overwhelming. And just as suddenly as the biting draft had blown into her room, the pull was gone, vanishing like smoke into the night.
"Perhaps it was an animal," she said to herself.
She did not hear the deep chuckle beyond the windowpanes as she climbed into bed. But the sound echoed in her dreams that night. Deep, hypnotic whispers accompanied the feel of warm, wet kisses to her overheated skin. It was the prelude to a sharp sting, quickly soothed by a laving tongue.
Her sleep was tumultuous and her body twisted in the linens on her bed. Unfamiliar feelings coursed through her veins, and a yearning she did not understand brought her to the edge of consciousness. But when that deep, hypnotic voice whispered a word she did not know—"Riposo"—her body calmed, and a wave of contentment washed over her.
She slept more deeply than she ever had.
When the next day dawned, she was roused by the brightening sun streaming through the window. As she buried her face in the pillows and blankets, a comforting smell filled her senses. Closing her eyes and inhaling, she allowed ,the scent to wash over her her body reacting in embarrassing ways to something as innocent as a scent.
The knock at the door pulled her away from her thoughts, and she tripped over her feet in her rush to answer it.
It was the same young woman who had escorted her to dinner the previous night. "Good morning, My Lady." She stepped past Isabella, placing her morning meal on the table before the fire. "Let me know if there is anything else you require."
As the girl walked toward the door, Isabella called out, "It would be nice to know your name."
She turned to Isabella and smiled. "Alice, and I am but a call away."
"It is nice to meet you, officially. And please, call me Isabella."
Alice's smile turned regretful. "I don't believe Lord Masen would like that very much, My Lady."
While Isabella did not understand the girl's reluctance to address her by her name, she did not challenge her. After all, Alice knew her master better than Isabella did.
"And where is Lord Masen? Am I to attend the lessons he spoke of last night?"
"He sleeps late, My Lady. All day, in fact. But he will call for you when your presence is required."
"What am I to do with my day while I wait?"
Alice's eyes lit up. "Explore the grounds. The gardens are exceptionally beautiful and the horses in the stables would love to meet their new—" Alice laughed nervously. "They would love to meet you."
"Horses?"
"Oh, yes! Lord Masen breeds the most magnificent beasts for the villages."
"So I have heard," Isabella replied softly.
"If that will be all?"
"Yes, thank you, Alice."
With a nod and another smile, Alice left the room, closing the door behind her. The morning meal laid on the table was an amount Isabella could not fathom consuming on her own. But when the first bite hit her tongue, she realized how ravenously hungry she was and devoured nearly every morsel. She was so distracted with filling her growling stomach, she barely paid any mind to the dull ache at her neck.
...
The gardens were exactly as Alice had promised—beautiful. Flowers Isabella had never laid eyes on flourished all around her. It was an unexpected surprise. At this elevation and with what felt like an impenetrable veil of clouds surrounding the manor, it seemed to defy logic that anything would thrive here. But it did.
A myriad of colors lined the paths, and a well-manicured hedge bordered the north side. But what stole her breath was the display at the heart of the garden. The most magnificent cluster of white rose bushes grew in a spectacular display. Their fragrance carried on the breeze and filled her senses.
She closed her eyes and thought back to her earliest memories. Her mother would cut the flowers from the wild roses that grew outside their cottage windows and bring them inside their home, filling it with the most delicate fragrance. The memory brought a gentle smile to Isabella's lips. How she missed her mother, lost to a fever that had ravaged their village when Isabella was a young girl. Every summer after her mother's passing, when the roses would grow and their scent would carry into their home, Isabella felt closer to her.
Her eyes fluttered open and she gazed down at one of the unfurled blooms. How fortunate to have such a thing, here of all places, to remind her of her home, of her mother.
Suddenly, realizing how she may appear to any passersby, she looked around, but there was no one. And as she thought on it, she realized she had passed no one all afternoon. Isabella was puzzled by the lack of groundskeepers. As far as she could tell, no one was tending to the grounds.
It was as if the plants thrived, untouched, despite their surroundings.
Anxious to see the magnificent beasts Alice had promised her, Isabella walked to the stables. Stall after stall held a stallion or mare more remarkable than the last. One especially impressive creature caught her eye.
"Hello there," she said softly as she approached. She held her hand out, palm up, allowing the animal to sniff her. "You certainly are beautiful." Slowly and carefully, she reached up to stroke the giant's muzzle.
"He seems taken with you."
Startled, she turned toward the voice. The man at the far end of the corridor was tall with broad shoulders and tanned skin. His beaming smile lit his entire face.
"I'm sorry, sir. I did not know anyone was here," Isabella said, feeling somehow chastised for being caught inspecting the animals.
"It's quite all right." He walked toward her, stopping an arm's length away and reaching past Isabella to stroke the horse, forelock to muzzle. "This one is usually not too fond of strangers." He turned to Isabella and smiled. "But he seems to like you."
She looked at the horse, shyly glancing at the young man beside her. "The feeling is quite mutual."
"You must be Miss Swan."
She tilted her head. "I am. Am I to assume my arrival is the talk of the manor?"
"We've been anticipating your arrival for quite a while."
"Oh?"
Before he could elaborate, Jasper appeared at the end of the corridor. "Miss Swan, your presence is required."
She wheeled around and looked toward Lord Masen's footman expecting to meet his gaze, but it wasn't on her; it was locked on the young man at her side.
"Jacob," Jasper said, his tone curt, "I believe you should be tending to the horses in the lower fields instead of entertaining our guest."
"Yes, of course," Jacob replied sheepishly. He doffed an invisible hat atop his head in Isabella's direction. "It was a pleasure meeting you."
She was puzzled with their unusual interaction, but she smiled politely. "Likewise."
Jacob passed Jasper as he left, and the look they exchanged could have frozen the flowers off the plants in the gardens. Sensing it was a bad idea to ask questions, Isabella dutifully followed Jasper back to the manor.
That evening, after Isabella enjoyed her meal alone in the dining room, Lord Masen finally joined her in the sitting room.
Isabella stood, greeting him as he entered. "Good evening, My Lord."
His expression was somber, the corners of his mouth downturned. The news his footman had given him that afternoon still echoed in his mind. But Isabella's warm greeting made him momentarily put aside his inner turmoil.
His expression softened. "Good evening, Miss Swan. I trust you had a pleasant day. Jasper tells me you explored the grounds."
She beamed. "I did. The gardens are especially lovely."
"I hoped you would enjoy them."
"Oh, I did. Especially the roses. How serendipitous it is you grow them here."
"How so?"
She smiled, her cheeks growing pink under his inspection. "They grew near my childhood home. My mother would bring fresh cuttings inside and our cottage would smell so wonderful. I—" Realizing she was rambling like a small child, her mouth snapped shut.
Lord Masen appraised her with an amused smile. "Please, go on."
"I am sorry, My Lord. I should not prattle on so. Please forgive me."
"There is nothing to forgive, Isabella."
With her voice caught in her throat, she nodded and looked at her feet.
As he looked upon her, with her rosy cheeks and racing pulse proving her embarrassment, he was reminded of her other afternoon activities. "And what of the stables? I hear you met my stableman."
"Yes, I did."
"And was he ... accommodating?"
There was something in his biting tone that told Isabella to answer carefully.
Softly, she replied, "He was very polite."
With a terse nod, Lord Masen turned to the bookshelf, retrieving a thin book. "I would like to begin your lessons this evening if you're agreeable." He looked up from the small volume in his hand and met Isabella's gaze.
His eyes were mesmerizing. Swirling shades of green and gold seemed to glow by the light of the fire and accompanying candlelight. His gaze was intense, rendering Isabella nearly speechless.
Her mouth felt dry and her pulse raced, the tender spot on her neck aching in time to the beat of her heart. She licked her lips and swallowed, nodding her assent. "That would be lovely."
"Come," he commanded, walking toward the settee before the fire. "The light is best here." He pointed to the large seat, waiting for Isabella to sit before he took the place beside her.
His nearness did funny things to her. His scent, intensified by the heat of the fire, was familiar. As she inhaled more deeply, those stirrings she felt as she laid in her bed that morning awakened deep inside her. She closed her eyes and breathed deeply, allowing the scent of him to fill her lungs. The deeper she inhaled, the faster her heart beat.
"I will begin by reading a passage or two."
Isabella's eyes flew open, and a flood of embarrassment heated her cheeks. His eyes locked on hers, and she felt as though he knew what torrid sensations were rushing through her.
That rush of blood to the surface of Isabella's skin and the pounding of her heart caused an entirely different rush to run through Lord Masen. He inhaled deeply to calm his own racing pulse.
It was a reaction he was not prepared for.
Clearing his throat, he continued his instruction. "I believe hearing the passages read aloud will give you a better sense of the melody of the words." His eyes met hers, his intense stare trapping her like the prey she didn't know she was. "I wish for you to enjoy the written word as much as I do."
When he exhaled, his breath was warm and sweet. As it washed over her, the skin of her neck warmed and tingled. She reached up and placed her palm flat against the now-pulsing flesh.
"I wish for that as well," she whispered.
He broke their connection, turning to the book and opening it to the first page. "Then let us begin."
The cadence of his voice, the depth of emotion as he spoke, cast Isabella under his spell. She watched as his finger glided over the words on the page. As he continued to speak, she leaned in closer, enraptured by the words falling from his lips as the fire blazed in the hearth. But when Isabella's hand brushed against Lord Masen's when she reached for the page, an altogether different fire blazed.
In that simple touch, her body was set aflame.
Their gazes lifted from the page, locking on each other's. A moment, heavy with silent expectation passed between them before either of them spoke.
"I believe that will be enough for one night, Isabella." Lord Masen's voice was deep and gruff, nothing like the tone in which he'd been reading. He closed the book and stood, placing the book in his vacated seat. He stepped toward the mantel and stared into the flames.
"My Lord? Did I do something wrong? Forgive me for—"
"You've done nothing wrong, Isabella." He turned to meet her confused eyes. "And I believe if we will be spending so much time together, I would like you to use my given name. Please, call me Edward."
"Edward," she whispered, tasting the name as it rolled off her tongue.
He took two long strides toward her and offered her his hand, and with great trepidation, she took it. The smooth skin of her palm slid against his. Such a simple touch stirred something unfamiliar in them both, for both had been without tender touches for so very long.
"I believe you will far exceed my expectations, Miss Swan." He brought her knuckles to his lips, placing the gentlest of kisses upon them. "Until tomorrow."
And so was the first of many evenings spent by the fire, leaned over a book, their heads tilted together as he taught her the sounds for the script on the page. It did not take long for Isabella to grasp what she was being taught, and it was only a matter of days before she was reading simple passages back to him.
He was patient with her. And when she would read back to him, his pleased smile brought about a sense of pride in Isabella she'd never known. Edward's praise became addictive, and Isabella began to seek out time alone in the gardens to practice her reading, hoping to impress him.
On one especially cloudy day, Isabella was seated on a bench in the center of the garden with her nose in a book. Its simple text encouraged her to try reading the passages on her own without Edward's guidance. Her lips moved as she read, forming the words with no sound. And that is how Edward found her.
"You will have no need of me soon if you insist on running off with one of my books."
Her head shot up, her cheeks instantly burning at being caught. "I beg pardon, My Lord, I—"
"Isabella," he scolded gently, "I've asked you many times to use my name."
Her gaze fell to the book in her lap. "I beg pardon, Edward."
He took the empty space beside her, the heat of her body permeating his cloak. "Why are you out here all alone? Am I so poor a tutor you feel the need to teach yourself?" His teasing tone made Isabella relax.
She looked up at him and smiled, the blush in her cheeks darkening with her admission. "No, I was hoping to surprise you."
Seeing her blood rush to the surface of her skin was enough to make Edward's mouth dry. He licked his lips and swallowed. "You surprise me at every turn."
Being this close to her, he knew it would be difficult to resist succumbing to his baser instincts. He stood, offering her his arm. "Perhaps we should take a walk."
Taken aback by his gesture, she sat straighter. "I would like that very much."
Arm in arm they walked, their bodies a respectable distance apart. But even the innocent way in which he led her around the gardens was enough to make butterflies swirl in her belly. The familiar pull she always felt while in his presence was there, tugging on something deep inside her.
There was also something else.
While he was a patient and thoughtful teacher, a generous man who'd welcomed her into his home, he was also an enigma. He never spoke of his family. There were never any callers to the manor. How isolated had this man been before she'd arrived? How did he pass his days, and with whom? He'd told her he was a busy man. Did he travel? Had he seen the world? How had he become the Lord of Masen Manor?
She wanted to know why he preferred to sleep through the days. She wanted to know how he spent his nights after she would retire to her chambers. She wanted to know why this mysterious man wanted to spend his time with her, a poor farmer's daughter, instead of a lady of his own station.
So many questions bubbled beneath the surface. Isabella could barely hold her tongue.
It did not go unnoticed.
"Tell me, now that you've had time to settle in, how are you liking Masen Manor?" Edward asked, drawing her out.
She sneaked a look at him before turning back to their path. "I'm liking it very much."
He nodded slowly. "I am glad to hear it. I would hate to think you were unhappy."
"Not at all. I am enjoying my time." She lowered her voice, and it quavered as she spoke. "Especially our evenings in the sitting room."
He raised a brow, only somewhat surprised by her forwardness. "That is very good to know, Miss Swan." He looked down and met her inquisitive gaze, grinning. "Very good indeed."
His hand came to rest on hers as it lay on his forearm. The innocent touch sent tingles up Isabella's arm and through her body, pooling in her middle. The cool air hit her suddenly prickly skin, making her shiver.
Delicately, she cleared her throat. "I am used to life on a farm. It has been many years since I have been able to sleep past the sunrise and spend my days as I wish."
"You took care of your father's home after your mother passed." It was not a question. At her nod, he prompted, "Tell me of her."
And she did. She told him of the way her mother would sing as she worked, how she would tell Isabella stories that had been handed down through the years as she drifted to sleep each night. She told him of every happy memory she had of her mother.
"You loved her very much."
"I did." She shook her head, a rueful smile on her lips. "I do. But I fear I am talking too much about myself. Tell me of your family."
The corner of his mouth turned up. "There is not much to tell. My memories of my own mother are murky at best. And my father was a bit of a tyrant, so I've blocked him from my memory you could say." He met her eyes and hesitated. Her inquisitive stare made him want to confess all his secrets. He wanted to tell her the man who had taken his parents' lives was the same one who took his humanity, damning him to the half-life he led. "They have been gone from this world for many years," he finally said.
"When did you lose them?"
"I was a young man. Too young to know better but old enough to inherit this land."
"You must've been so lonely," she whispered.
His footsteps halted, causing them to come to a stop. He cupped her cheek as he gazed down into her eyes. In them he saw so much more than he ever expected. All those years ago, when she stood before him as a child, her blood called to him. But he never expected to feel anything more than bloodlust when she arrived.
This was so much more.
"I was lonely."
"Was?" she asked, breathless with anticipation as he hovered over her.
"But not anymore."
He leaned forward, and Isabella rose on the tips of her toes, anxiously waiting to see if he would kiss her. She wanted him to kiss her.
His sweet scent washed over her, making her dizzy. Her breaths came faster as he closed the distance between them. Her heart pounded, unrelenting, until his mouth passed hers to leave a soft kiss on her cheek.
Edward pulled back, leaving Isabella in quite a state. Her heart was still racing and her skin was tingling. Her nipples puckered under the heavy cloth of her dress, and he could smell her arousal; it caused his own to increase exponentially.
He cleared his throat. "I believe we should return to the manor. Alice will be serving your dinner soon."
Isabella's gaze dropped to the pebbled path at her feet, disappointment burning through her veins. "Of course."
They walked the path toward the entrance of the gardens, but when they reached the rose bushes at the center, Edward once again pulled them to a stop. He turned and lifted her chin with a crooked finger.
"I want you to know, Isabella, whatever circumstances brought you to me, I am thankful you are here now. You have brought something to my life I was missing, and I hope ..." He searched her eyes, seeing possibilities he had never before hoped for. "I hope one day you will allow me to show you how much more I can offer you."
...
Edward avoided accompanying Isabella in the gardens after that fateful day, fearful he would do something he would regret. Instead, he chose to watch her from his window. Just seeing her engaged with a book, hearing her soft murmurs as she read the words, or watching her stop to smell the roses, was enough to sooth the ache he felt when he was apart from her.
He was slowly going mad with desire to be with her in the way he wished. But it was not yet time. He needed her to find her way, needed her to grow into the woman she was meant to be. In time, he would reveal his true nature, tell her of his wish to have her by his side for eternity.
Isabella was learning new things, growing more confident every day. He was beginning to see her realizing her full potential. But there was one more thing he needed from her before he could reveal his intentions.
He needed her to want him the way he wanted her.
While her evenings belonged to Edward, most of Isabella's days were spent in the gardens and reading from the simple texts Edward suggested. She would sit in the gardens for hours, reading and pondering. She would go and visit Jacob at the stables, but she would keep her lessons to herself.
Isabella did not wish to share something so precious to her with anyone else.
Everyday her confidence grew. And in the evenings, after they would have her lessons, they spoke of what they read. It was the first time anyone had asked her opinion on any topic. And for the first time, Isabella felt like her feelings mattered, which was unheard of for a woman, especially one of her station.
The way Edward looked at her, the way he would smile when she shared her thoughts with him, made her insides feel warm. Each evening they would sit nearer to one another. Their innocent touches became more frequent and less innocent. And with every touch, the pull to Edward would grow within Isabella.
He, in turn, found any excuse to touch her, and he found great amusement when she would brazenly touch him. He began to hope a stray curl would escape the confines of her upswept hair. He would argue a point simply so she would reach for his hand. Her touch, much like the rest of her, was addictive.
And the draw was mutual.
Lord Masen captivated Isabella. So much so that her nights were spent dreaming of him. Her dreams grew more and more explicit, more and more real as the days passed by. Flashes of muscled flesh, rough touches, and hot kisses continued to haunt her dreams. She ached in places she had not even explored herself in her waking hours. The sensations felt so real, Isabella would wake overheated and throbbing. She was beginning to believe she was going mad.
...
The skies were thick with heavy clouds and streaks of grey, but Isabella could not stay indoors a moment longer. Her evenings with Edward were leaving her more confused every day, and she needed a distraction, a way to clear her head.
She gathered her cloak and stepped out into the gloomy late afternoon, wandering toward the stables. The stallion that had caught her eye on her first visit was not in its stall, so she ambled around aimlessly, wasting time until she would be called for the evening meal.
When she came upon the stall at the end of the line, a familiar face was there to greet her.
"Miss Swan! What a pleasant surprise."
"Hello, Jacob."
"What brings you to the stables today?"
"It was a bit too cloudy to enjoy the gardens. I thought it was a good reason to come and see the horses."
He placed the pitchfork he was using against the wall and brushed his hands on his pants. "Then it must be providence to bring you to me today." He looked past Isabella, toward the corridor, and back to her. "I must say, I'm surprised to see you."
"Why is that?"
He tilted his head to the side and furrowed his brow. "I thought Lord Masen would have had his fill of you and sent you on your way by now."
"Had his fill of me?" Isabella asked, aghast at his forwardness.
Jacob's grin was somewhat mocking. "Our master isn't known for retaining his ... guests for very long."
Isabella's brow furrowed. "I am more than a guest, Mr. Black. I was invited here to be his companion."
"Companion?" Jacob scoffed. "You should ask him about the last woman brought here as his companion." His gaze travelled up and down her form. "She was small like you. Dark hair and dark features. She didn't last a fortnight. He does not keep them long."
"How Lord Masen conducted himself before I arrived is none of my concern. But I assure you he has been nothing short of a gentleman."
"Perhaps you're different. But how am I to believe you're nothing more to him than a warm body? A way for him to indulge his ... appetite?" Jacob got so close to her, Isabella could feel the heat of his body, the smell of him as he grew nearer. He smelled of old hay and manure, and it turned her stomach.
"How dare you, Mr. Black!"
"Tell me, Miss Swan, how much time do you really spend with him? He doesn't even bother to have his meals with you, does he? Ask yourself why. Why does he only appear at night? Why does he not eat the same foods you do?" Jacob leaned in and lowered his voice to a whisper. "It is because he is not a man at all. He's a demon sent here from hell to corrupt you, to manipulate you into thinking you care for him so he can take from you what he wishes. You should leave while you still can."
"I've heard enough." She tried to walk past him, but Jacob blocked her path. "Step away from me, Mr. Black," Isabella said with all the conviction she could muster.
"Are you this frightened of Lord Masen when he's this close?"
"I believe I should return to the manor. They'll be expecting me," Isabella replied, her tremulous voice betraying her words. She took yet another step back, but her shoulders hit the wooden planks of the wall.
"I think you need to be shown the pleasures a real man can give you before he tosses you aside like every other woman who has passed through the doors of Masen Manor." He inched closer, and when his lips landed on hers, they were hard and demanding, nothing at all like the kisses in her dreams.
Her hands splayed out on his chest and she pushed with all her might, but he was too large, too imposing to shove away. With nowhere to go, with not enough strength to remove him, Isabella struggled to get out of his grasp.
"Enough!"
As though an invisible force was at work, Jacob's body was suddenly gone, pulled away and tossed aside into a pile of hay inside a stall.
Stunned, Isabella stood, her mouth agape as she watched Jacob try to pull himself from the heap.
"You will return to your quarters, Mr. Black, and wait for further instructions," Edward said. And while Isabella's eyes were now on her rescuer, his were fixed firmly on the interloper struggling to stand.
"Yes, My Lord," Jacob mumbled as he ran, hunched over, toward the door, disappearing into the rapidly fading light.
It left Isabella and Edward alone, each of them breathing as though they'd climbed the mountain upon which Masen Manor stood.
"Are you well?" he asked her, his voice tight.
She nodded, wiping her lips and trying to calm her racing heart.
He strode toward her, intent on inspecting any possible damage the careless stableman had inflicted on his precious companion. "Did he hurt you in any way?"
Unable to speak, she shook her head.
When he was but a breath away from her, he met her gaze.
Time felt as though it had stopped as they stood there, their gazes locked. Isabella was fearful of giving him an honest answer, for the fire in his eyes was frightening. Jacob's words still echoed in her ears as well.
"It is because he is not a man at all."
"I wish to hear you say the words. Did he hurt you?" he repeated.
Trembling, she remained silent.
"Do not make me ask you a third time, Isabella."
She swallowed and looked down at her feet. "He only kissed me," she said softly.
"Did you ask him to kiss you?" he asked through gritted teeth, his words rumbling from deep within.
"No, My Lord." Her words were no more than a whisper.
He went silent. How that pup would dare to touch this woman, dare to take something so precious as a kiss without her permission made the monster within him rattle at its chains. But there would be plenty of time for that. Right now, he needed to reassure himself the shaking young woman before him was well.
Reining in his anger, he stared at her, his breaths ceasing. It would do no good to breathe in her enticing bouquet while they stood surrounded by horses and hay. Breathing heavily, her heart racing, she was far too tempting.
The air between them seemed to crackle and pop. Isabella feared his anger over the stableman's actions was somehow directed at her. But when he met her eyes, it was not anger she saw. No, it was something altogether different.
Desire.
Instinctually, she took a step back, but not in fear of the man before her. No, this time she feared what she might do if he came any closer.
So many restless nights she laid in her bed, dreaming about the formidable creature approaching her. So many evenings she sat beside him as he read to her, hoping he would bestow a kiss upon her, that he would ravage her before the blazing fire. And now he stood before her looking like he wanted to devour her where she stood.
She began to wonder if what Jacob had suggested was true.
The heat between them only intensified when he took another measured step toward her. She peered up at him and licked her lips.
It was the sign he had been waiting for.
With the authority of the Lord of the manor and the tender touch of a lover, he pulled her into his arms. He cradled her head with one hand and held to her tiny waist with the other as his lips hovered over hers.
"What have you done to me, Miss Swan?" His voice was even, but his body trembled with the restraint he was wielding. "May I kiss you?"
"If you do not, I fear I will have to kiss you."
Needing no more invitation, his mouth descended on hers.
Isabella's hands came to rest on his shoulders, her grasp tightening as he held her closer, kissed her more deeply. The sensation sent a shock through her body, and she gasped. When her lips parted, his tongue delved into her mouth, gliding along hers. The taste of him was sweet, intoxicating, and Isabella feared she would never get enough.
But it was nothing like the taste of her.
To him, she tasted of the finest wine, of the most decadent delights that had ever touched his tongue ... save one.
A moan of pleasure came from deep within her and it only spurred him on. The hand grasping her waist traveled lower, coming to rest on her backside, gently squeezing and kneading as he pulled her closer. He could hear her heart racing. He could feel the blood pumping through her veins.
It called to him.
He pulled away only to kiss at the tender skin of her neck. "I fear I will not be able to stop myself, Isabella. And we must stop."
"Why must we stop?" she asked, panting as he lavished her neck with kisses.
He pulled back and cradled her cheeks in his smooth hands. "Because I fear I will take something which is not yet mine."
"It is mine to give freely, is it not?"
His eyes darkened as he grinned at her forwardness. "I fear you are under some kind of spell, my dear, and I wish for you to know the real me before you agree to such a thing."
She gripped at his cloak, her delicate hands fisting the fabrics as she pulled him closer. "I do not care. Jacob has already told me. He spoke of—"
"What did he speak of?" he asked, his voice harsh, demanding.
"He said you were not a man, but I do not care. I feel something, My Lord. Please do not deny me. Do not deny us both."
His heart sunk with the realization she knew the secret he'd been so reluctant to share with her. It pained him to know she might see him as less of a man. "You promised to call me Edward," he whispered.
"Edward," she whispered. "Edward, I feel ..."
"Tell me. What do you feel?"
"There is an ache deep inside me I cannot seem to quench." Her cheeks blazed red, and the strange feeling she felt deep in her belly whenever she was near him intensified.
Tossing caution to the wind, he cradled her head in his hands. "Then I shall quench it for you," he murmured as his mouth once again covered hers. Only this time, he did not relent. As if he were trying to consume her, his lips never left hers. Pressing, tasting, ravishing, he wished to consume her.
In that moment he decided he would, and this time it would not be under the cover of darkness.
Only the sounds of their heavy breaths could be heard over the nearing thunderclouds. Lightning flashed in the distance, the rumble of thunder coming moments later. And when his thumb brushed over her breast, she cried out.
In that moment of her distraction, he whispered unfamiliar words in her ear and pulled back, staring into her eyes and breathing his sweet-smelling breath into her face. She gasped, inhaling it deep into her lungs, and as she did when slept, she let the magic course through her veins.
Swept up in the spell she was under, the feelings of lust surged through her body. And whispering all the things he wished to do to her, Edward had her exactly where he wished her to be. Her subconscious mind showed her visions of Edward taking her to his bed. She could see how he held her naked body to his while he showed her untold pleasures.
How he longed to make her feel these things without his gift of compulsion. But it would have to wait. For now, it was the least he could offer her as he took the one thing he could not do without. It was an offering of pleasure in exchange for the life force that flowed through her veins.
She writhed in his arms, her keening moans making it nearly impossible to control himself.
"Yes, my beauty. Soon. I will have you soon and you will be mine for all of eternity. But for now ..." His nose trailed up the column of her throat. His lips came to rest over where he had been drinking from her since her arrival, and he inhaled deeply. "For now, I will take what I can bear for you to give."
As if it pained him, he looked away, closing his eyes and saying a silent prayer to the god who had damned his soul for all of eternity, hoping it would protect the fragile woman in his arms. The sharp incisors that only appeared when he fed descended in his mouth, elongating even more so due to his aroused state.
With every ounce of self-discipline he had, he turned back to her neck, piercing the delicate skin in the same place he had every night since she'd arrived. On those nights, it was the call of her blood that brought him to her. But this time, as he began to pull at the sweet liquid flowing through her veins, it was the call of her body that spurred him on. He squeezed his eyes closed, wishing he could take her body as well as her blood.
He held firm to her, pulling her tighter against him, and when she cried out in ecstasy, he knew she'd reached her limit ... as he had. For he may not have been human, but he was still a man.
When she collapsed against him, he swept her into his arms.
"Dormi, amore mio," he whispered into her ear as he carried her from the stables. Edward practically flew toward the house, his hold on the sleeping woman in his arms sure and tight. Instead of walking through the kitchen, through the halls where any of his staff could see, he chose to enter the manor through Isabella's window.
It was not the first time he entered that way, nor would it be the last.
With a single bound, he leapt for the balcony, reaching it in one smooth movement. Isabella did not even stir in his arms. He walked toward her bed and gently placed her on the mattress. As he hovered over her, he traced a gentle path along her rosy skin with his finger.
"You have given me such a gift." He cupped her cheek. "Such a gift." He laid beside her, soaking her warmth into him, wishing he could stay like that until she woke. But he knew there was one thing yet to take care of before they could proceed.
He placed a gentle kiss upon her lips and brushed a wayward hair from her face. "I will return to you, my love. And then we will speak of what is next. For I do not think I could stand to be parted from you any longer."
With one last, longing glance, he pulled himself from her bed, leaving her chambers in the same manner in which he entered.
...
Jacob Black trembled as he hurriedly packed his belongings. He knew his behavior in the stables was improper. Not only did he force a kiss upon Isabella, but he also warned her of his master's true nature. Jacob knew Lord Masen would be coming for him. But he hoped the woman who had so thoroughly captivated them both would hold Lord Masen's attention long enough for Jacob to get away.
Taking one last glance at his humble accommodations, he gathered his satchel and stole away into the night, hoping he could make it to the base of the mountain before Lord Masen was through with whatever it was he was doing to Isabella.
Jacob cursed the day he ever laid eyes on the girl. His impulsive decision to tell her what kind of man she was living with led to him abandoning the place he'd called home since he was a boy. And now he feared he would fall victim to the secret that resided in Masen Manor.
The more Jacob thought on it, the more he realized Isabella was hardly worth the trouble.
He pulled his overcoat tighter and picked up his pace. If he hurried, he would make it to the bottom of the mountain before the sun rose.
Jasper watched from his spot in the kitchen doorway as Jacob walked through the mist toward the road.
"He's left, then, has he?" Alice asked, walking up beside him.
Lord Masen's footman hummed a reply as he watched Jacob disappear into the darkness.
"Stupid boy, that one," she said. "He'll be lucky to make it to the village."
Jasper turned and pulled Alice into his arms and grinned. "I doubt he makes it to the road." He closed the door, hoping none of the other staff might hear the screams that he knew were soon to follow.
Jacob tugged his coat high on his shoulders, using the upturned collar to ward off the lingering light rain and wind. He tried to stay to the grassy patches that lined the wheel-worn path. He would likely sink to his ankles if he strayed.
A rustling sound, too loud and too large to be caused by the wind sounded to his left. The moon was shrouded in cloud cover, so his light was limited. Jacob quickened his pace, ducking his head low and paying special attention to his steps.
It did not take long before he knew he was being hunted.
The pup's scent was nearly repulsive, and it was only amplified by the rain. But the predator would not allow it to deter him. He would make the boy pay for his insolence. As he tracked his prey for another mile, he made sure to toy with the boy, exaggerating his steps and movements as he stalked him along the tree line. He was sure to step on every felled branch and twig.
The response was a thudding, pounding heart, and with every beat, Jacob's fear increased. It was the fear that fueled the lurking predator's hunt, feeding the monster inside him and reminding him of his intent.
He could recall Isabella's fear as Jacob stood over her; he remembered smelling it in the air as Jacob put his lips on her without her permission. He also remembered Jacob spilling secrets to Isabella Edward was not yet prepared to share with her.
The memory was what drove him from the shadows and onto Jacob back, knocking him into the mud. His sharp, pointed teeth had already descended before they sunk into the warm flesh of his neck. The man's scream fed the monster's frenzy, every pull of blood feeding the beast within.
The harder Jacob fought, the better his blood tasted. And when the fight finally left him, once he'd been drained of every last drop, his rapidly cooling body was dropped to the forest floor. But Lord Masen couldn't be bothered with hiding it.
After all, everyone knew there were all manner of wild beasts that lurked in the woods beyond Masen Manor.
...
He climbed to watch from his usual perch outside her balcony window. Even as she was buried in her quilts and blankets, he could see her chest rising and falling as she took each breath. The ever-present pull he felt in her presence was as strong as it had ever been.
Oh, how he wanted her. How he longed to tell her how he felt. Not only did he want her body, but he also wanted to share all of eternity with her. He cherished her mind, her constant desire to learn more, to grow. And he wanted to be the one to show her everything the world had to offer.
He wanted to tell her all of his secrets and show himself for what he truly was.
He no longer wished to hide his true self from her.
But could he really damn her to the kind of existence he'd been forced to endure for more than a century? Would he force her into a life of isolation and no sunlight? A life full of blood and death?
He looked down at his hands. Hands that longed to hold Isabella once again were dirty, speckled with wet earth and blood. No, as much as he wanted her, he could not force this life upon her; it needed to be her decision. But how could he ask it of her? And could he let her go if she denied him?
Without a sound, he turned and jumped from the balcony, landing on the sodden grass with a muted thump before fleeing into the woods, far away from his temptation.
He needed time to think.
A forceful tug brought Isabella from the sound sleep she'd been in. Confusion quickly set in. She could not remember how she'd come to be in her bed. Looking down she saw she was still dressed. The last thing she could remember was being in the barn. The kiss Jacob forced upon her. The kiss she shared with Edward. She closed her eyes and smiled. But her smile soon faded as she realized kissing him was the very last thing she remembered clearly.
Except for the fuzzy memories following the kiss. Those came to her in a rush.
The roaming hands.
The kisses to the hidden places of her body.
Edward claiming her for his.
"It is because he is not a man at all."
She sat up. Memories of what preceded their kiss came back then—Isabella begging him to take her—and shame coursed through her.
"What he must think of me," she whispered.
A gust of wind rattled the door to the balcony and drew her from her bed. With slow steps, she walked toward the window.
The light of the moon was shrouded in thick clouds, and Isabella could not see beyond the tree line surrounding Masen Manor. An inexplicable sadness weighed heavy on her heart. That pull she'd felt was straining under the burden of something she could not see.
Isabella had so many questions. She wanted, no, needed to know Edward did not think her wanton. She needed to know she still found favor in his eyes. She could not bear to think her actions that evening had crushed any chance she might've had for a life with him.
She needed to know what Jacob meant when he said Edward was not a man.
She needed to speak to Edward.
Isabella ran from her chambers, going first to the sitting room where they shared most evenings. He was not there. She searched the dining room, hoping to find him sipping at his favorite Port, but he was not seated at the table. She searched the manor, but he was nowhere to be found.
Gathering her nerve, she resolved to seek him out in the one place she had never gone. The one place she had been asked to keep away from.
The corridor leading to Edward's chambers was dark and cramped. The staircase wound, not up, but down, into the deep, dark caverns of the manor. Only a few lamps lit her path, but she was determined to speak to Edward, so she pressed on.
When she arrived at the door at the end of the corridor, she knocked. When there was no reply, she turned the latch and pushed the door open.
A single lamp burned in the corner, and it took a moment for her eyes to adjust to the darkness. The space was nothing at all like what she expected. While she may have been expecting a dark room, she did not expect one devoid of windows. The bed was large and imposing, draped in heavy curtains and piled with lush cushions and linens. But it was lacking the warmth she associated with her own bed. No, Edward's was far simpler than she had imagined.
A writing desk sat near the empty hearth, and the books and papers strewn upon it called to her.
She picked up the single candle from the desk and lit it from the lamp, carrying it to the abandoned logs in hopes of starting a fire. It took several minutes, but eventually, a spark took hold and a small fire began to build.
With more light now brightening the room, she could see what covered the desk.
"Oh."
Spread out on the table was sketch after sketch ... of her. Some were sketches of Isabella as she sat in the gardens enjoying the roses, some were of her smiling face as she read from a book. But there were also some that made her cheeks burn.
There in charcoal and parchment were pictures of Isabella, spread out on her bed, wearing a shift and nothing more. She sat heavily into the chair at the desk. Her gaze traveled over the strewn papers, finally coming to rest on an open book, the quill and inkwell just beside it.
She reached for the book, and what she read made the heat in her cheeks spread to the rest of her body.
8th October
The way she looks upon the open blooms and smiles, the way her lips move when she reads to herself makes me long to know the secrets hidden within her. What makes her smile? What words move her to hide away and read to herself?
I feel an overwhelming need to make her mine. But will she accept me for who I am? Will she cower in fear when she learns my true nature? Or will she embrace the darkness as I have?
Isabella has bewitched me. I want to ask her to be mine, to spend eternity by my side, but I feel as though it may be at too great a cost.
"What cost do you speak of, Edward?" she murmured as she traced his elegant script on the page.
She felt him before she saw him. The skin of her neck throbbed and the pull she felt when he was near tugged tightly. The urge to run to him and ask him all the questions bubbling up inside her was so great, she trembled where she sat, but she didn't dare look up from the journal in her hands.
The pull grew stronger. Her skin prickled, her nipples tightened, and her center ached.
"Is it some kind of magic that draws me to you?" she asked, not looking up from the pages of the journal.
Edward's footsteps halted, and his own pulse began to race.
"Is that why I feel this pull?" Her voice quavered. "You say I have bewitched you, but I believe it is you who have me spellbound." Finally, she looked up and met his heated gaze. "Jacob told me you are a demon sent from hell, and I did not want to believe him. You have been nothing but kind and generous with me, but"—she held up his journal—"by your own admission you speak of your true nature, of embracing the darkness." She swallowed and whispered, "What are you?"
He took several slow, measured steps into the room until he was at her side. He carefully removed the book from her grasp and took her hands into his, forcing her to look up at him. "I am a man who has not been a man for a very long time."
"I do not understand."
He smiled. "I did not expect you to, my love."
Her heart stuttered at the endearment.
He knelt at her feet and lowered his voice. "I was born a long time ago, Isabella."
She searched his face and her brows furrowed. "But you can't have been. You cannot be more than—"
"Three hundred years old," he said, his voice steady yet strained.
She pulled back. "No. That cannot be—"
He reached for her once again. "It is true. I have been on this earth for a very long time." His grip on her hands tightened and he swallowed. "And I wish to spend the rest of my endless life with you, Isabella. I want to give you the gift of immortality if you'll spend it with me."
"Immortality? Edward, I do not understand."
"I have fallen in love with you and I know you have feelings for me. I wish to spend eternity with you, Isabella. Tell me I am wrong and I will send you back to your father this very night. You will never see me again."
A pang ripped through her heart at his suggestion. The very thought of being sent away caused her physical pain. Her grasp held more firmly to his. "I do not think I could bear to be separated from you," she whispered.
A sigh of relief escaped Edward and he leaned forward, resting his forehead to hers. "Tell me you wish to be by my side forever ... please."
Her heart raced and her voice cracked, but when she spoke it was with conviction. "I do not fully understand, but I do not wish to spend the rest of my days any other way."
The room seemed to blur as they moved, her body feeling weightless as he swept her into his arms and carried her to his bed. "Tell me I can have you, Isabella," he begged, hovering over her.
The pull inside her was nearly painful. She throbbed and ached as he held himself just away from her. "Please," she whimpered. "I am yours, Edward."
Their kiss wasn't like the first they'd shared. No, this one ignited a blaze in both of them. Their breaths came faster, their touches grew more insistent. Isabella pressed her body so tightly to Edward's, she was unsure where she ended and he began. Edward used every ounce of restraint he had to refrain from breaking her fragile body.
"I cannot promise to be gentle, Isabella," he said against her neck. "I will give you pleasure beyond all your wildest dreams, but I fear I will be unable to hold back." He pulled away and stared into her eyes. "There will be no turning back after tonight. You will be mine forever."
"Yours."
With speed Isabella could not comprehend, Edward rid them both of their clothes. The dim light of the room danced across their skin, and as they moved together, the ache in Isabella's center began to increase. His lips and tongue danced across her body, making her blood rush to the surface.
It called to him.
When he could no longer hold back, he settled between her legs, pressing into her slowly but without warning. Isabella gasped and arched her back, the feelings overwhelming her. And as he began to move, all she could do was hold on as indescribable sensations coursed through her.
Beads of sweat formed on her brow as he moved above her, inside her. She moaned in pleasure and he moved faster, sending them both toward something Isabella could not fathom.
A wave of bliss crashed over her so forcefully it stole her breath. Edward chose that moment to seal their union with the kiss that would forever change their lives. His sharp incisors descended and pierced her skin, and euphoria filled them both as the warm, sweet liquid flooded his mouth. Pull after pull brought them that much closer to their destiny. But there was one final step they needed to take to make her his forever.
He rolled them until he was beneath her, sitting up and pulling her legs around him. Their hooded eyes met, and he dragged a nail across the skin of his chest, over his heart.
"Drink," he murmured. "Drink from me and seal our fate, my love."
Understanding, Isabella leaned forward and placed her lips on his chest. When his blood hit her tongue, it woke something deep inside her, and a hidden instinct took over. Soon she was lapping and sucking, drawing more and more of his essence into her mouth.
As he held her head against him, her lips still attached to his chest, he murmured, "That's it. Drink, my love." He looked down and met her eyes. "Take your fill of me and be mine ... forever."