Hello again. Thanks for all the reviews for the last chapter. I appreciate them.
Now, before we go any further, I want to give you all a warning: this chapter has a very disturbing part to it. I was disturbed while I wrote it, but I think it was well done. I wanted to show you all just what being a vampire is and the horrors of one of our favorite character's past. I hope you enjoy the chapter and I hope you don't think I'm sick in the head after this. (lol, I'm actually a little serious.)
~Allora
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I sat with Carlisle and Esme, my mother's arms wrapped around my shoulders as my head rested on her chest. Carlisle rubbed my knee soothingly and assured and reassured me that there would be room here for both me and Jasper for so long as we wanted to occupy it. It was hours later, the sun had fully risen, reached it's zenith and was beginning to set when a change finally occurred.
Carlisle sat up a little straighter then got to his feet. I heard why a second later; the light, tentative footsteps that were apprehensively approaching the house. Jasper's footsteps, I knew instinctively, though they held none of the seductive forcefulness they usually did. Carlisle went to the door and opened it.
"Come on in, Jasper." He said calmly; welcomingly.
The footsteps paused, then acquiesced. He walked around the couch then stood stock still, like a statue, the way he did when he was tense and fearing an attack. His gaze flicked once to me then away. I sat up straighter, suddenly it seemed so silly for me to have been sobbing at all. What were my feeble fears compared to what Jasper had just been through? Compared to the sheer effort this careful facade of control had to be on him. Already, I could see the cracks beginning to form in his mask of control. His hands balled into fists at his side.
"Nobody blames you, son." Carlisle said softly as he settled on the couch next to me again. He gestured for Jasper to sit on the opposing couch.
Edward made a sound from the basement that made it sound like he very much did blame Jasper. I quickly squashed my irritation at my brother before it could impact Jasper, I hoped.
Jasper shook his head stiffly. "I apologize, profusely, Carlisle, Esme. It was monstrous of me to attack your family after you opened your home to me. Absolutely inexcusable. Edward, since I know you're listening, I am sorry. As you've all, no doubt, guessed by now, I am an empath. I'm sorry for what you all had to experience. It was a shameful, unforgivable lapse of control on my part. I'm just here to say goodbye to Alice, and then I'll be gone."
"Now, Jasper, that isn't necessary." Carlisle began.
"Goodbye?" I asked dumbfounded. It was a joke. Ha. He couldn't leave me. But my mind flitted back and reminded me, cruelly, that he had already been leaving when all this had started. That he had been trying to slip away in the middle of the night without so much as another word. I scrambled out of Esme's arms and into his. "No."
"Alice, look at what I did to you." He said firmly, gently twisting my arm so the scar was facing upward. It was completely healed, completely painless by now. Just lighter white crescents against my already pale skin. "I can't be around people if this is how I'm going to act."
I shrugged it off. "We match now."
His eyes narrowed dangerously. "No." He said vehemently, shaking me slightly. "No. You have no idea-"
"Jasper, we want you to stay with us." Esme said suddenly, cutting him off.
He froze, mouth dropping open a little in surprise. I felt an unending, infinite rush of gratitude for the woman I now considered my mother. Anyone else would have caused doubt. Anyone else he would have been able to discredit as an attempt as civility. But Esme loved Edward as a son. Her love for Edward was clearly visible in so many ways. It rivaled her love for Carlisle. Her love for all her children was absolute. And she wanted the man who had tried to kill her son to stay with them.
"Please, Jasper. I'll follow you anyway." I pleaded, my hands unconsciously clutching his shirt like my life depended on it.
"Why?" Jasper demanded, but he was looking over my head to Carlisle and Esme. I pulled myself into a tight hug against his chest. I could hear his deep, unsteady breaths against my ear. His arms distractedly folded around me. He wasn't paying any attention to me, but I liked his instinctive reaction. I felt safe in his arms. I felt like I belonged here.
"Jasper, you need help. You want to be able to be around people. You're not going to get any good at that on your own, son." Carlisle said. "And it would make Alice miserable if you left."
"I'd go with him." I said firmly. Jasper absently stroked my hair. My eyes fluttered shut at the gentle touch and I breathed in his scent.
"You'd still be miserable, wouldn't you?" Carlisle asked perceptively.
"Yes." I affirmed.
"That settles it then, Jasper Whitlock Cullen." Esme said in a very businesslike tone. "Welcome to the family, love."
"No." Jasper argued. "I don't want . . . No one should have to suffer like that again because of me."
"You suffer like that." Carlisle said calmly.
"Yes, but that's me. It shouldn't ever be inflicted on anyone else like that. It's unacceptable. And I can't guarantee that it wont happen again. Control is an issue." Jasper said, shaking his head vehemently.
"You shouldn't suffer alone. And we all have issues with control sometimes." Carlisle said firmly.
Jasper shook his head, suddenly releasing me. He stormed back out the door, fleeing. I glanced at my family, at Carlisle and Esme, and smiled sadly before following him out. I didn't know if we'd be coming back. I didn't know if I'd hug Esme again. I didn't know if Carlisle would ever reassure me again. I didn't know if I would ever have another half conversation with Edward. I didn't know if I would ever get to know Rosalie and Emmet better. But none of that mattered because Jasper was infinitely more important.
I sprinted after him. He'd already disappeared into the trees but his scent was easy to follow. It called to me. He was faster than me, but I was determined to eventually catch up. Even if it took me days. I darted through the trees, leaping over dead fall, dancing over low lying branches, as I rigorously followed his scent.
Eventually he began to slow. I could hear him now, distantly ahead of me, but the gap was closing. I spurred myself faster, burst through the underbrush into a clearing and froze. He was standing, his back to me, hands in his pockets, only a hundred feet away. I paused. I didn't want to intrude on his alone time.
He glared at me. "Go away, Alice."
I took a wide step back. I wouldn't crowd him, but I wasn't about to let him disappear. I bowed my head and waited. I tried to force a vision, tried to see what Jasper was going to do, but all I could see was him standing in the meadow. He hadn't made a decision yet.
"What are you doing?" He asked, a light wave of frustration floated my way.
"Giving you some space." I muttered.
He rolled his eyes at me, "You're going to have to go further than that, then." He said coldly.
"I'm not leaving you, Jasper."
"I wish that you would."
I winced at his words but held my ground. "You don't have to be alone." I said. I wasn't going to budge. "I think you're over due for a bit of happiness, you know?"
He laughed derisively. "There is no happiness for one such as myself. I do not deserve it."
"Jasp-"
"You don't know me at all, Alice. You know nothing about me. You don't know what I've done." He snapped.
"You're right." I conceded as I crossed the meadow to him. "I don't know what you've done. I don't know at all, I absolutely cannot comprehend, the past you had. Whatever unforgivable crimes you commit are completely beyond my reckoning. But I do know you, Jasper. And I know we belong together; I've known for every day of my existence."
"Even you admit that there were days you didn't see us together." He countered.
"Yes. Those days highlighted all to clearly that I would die without you."
He flinched. "Don't say that." A ripple of anger shivered off of him.
I smiled and kissed him lightly. He resisted. "Come on, Jasper. Hit me with your best shot. Let me in. Let me feel what your feeling. Let me see the whole gory mess of it." I challenged. It was the quickest, most binding, most lasting way I could think to make him mine. If I could endure, if I could withstand his emotional release, then he couldn't say I didn't understand what he was going through. Then he couldn't claim I didn't know him. I would know him, even the darkest, most horrifying parts of him. Then, he would have no excuse to resist me. Then he would be mine.
His eyes narrowed and he stared at me for a long moment. I could see the emotions playing in his eyes. His vindictive need to prove me wrong was warring with his dislike of showing weakness. Vindictiveness won in the end.
He growled and I was hit by an unseen force of emotion. Hit like a truck. Hit like a tank. Hit like a brick wall. His anger had staggered me before, but this force, this emotion, crumpled me. I managed to make it two steps away before my legs gave out on me. Emotion was the only way I could think to describe it. I didn't even know what I was feeling. I wasn't experienced enough to differentiate all the subtle different flavors between all the different types of shrieking agony I was experiencing. This was a hundred, no, a thousand, a hundred thousand times worse than his episode at the house.
This was . . .
Thoughts escaped me and I felt my body writhe uncontrollably on the ground. It felt like he was pushing experiences into me. Horrifying, anguishing experiences. I squeezed my eyes shut and saw stars, then a face. A very pretty face. It was the face of a girl, no older than fifteen, with beautiful, swinging golden ringlets under her wide rimmed hat. Her eyes were a starling shade of blue, the perfect shade of blue, like summer sky on a cloudless day. That shade of blue.
The experience grew, my focus widened, and I could see the girl was hurrying down a side street at dusk. Such a silly thing for the girl to be doing. In her slight, delicate hands was a package from the pharmacy. It looked like medicine or baby formula, something of the sort. Ah, the girl was hurrying home to a sick relative? To her anxious mother with the baby formula for her younger brother or sister or niece?
Her shoes clicked rhythmically on the street, scuffing against loose stones. She was coming closer, her long, tan skirt swishing with her hurried movements. Was it imperative that she got home or did she merely not like the look of the darkened street?
She caught sight of me then, pausing in her tracks before smiling tentatively. A low blush colored her fair cheeks, luscious blood pooling under her translucent skin. My eyes flicked to her throat, to the pretty, simply golden chain that hung there over her racing pulse. The rush of the blood was audible, heart pounding like a runaway horse. Enticing.
She continued on her way. Silly girl. She turned her head shyly away from me as she passed, uncomfortable by my scrutiny, exposing the delectable stretch of flesh below her ear before it disappeared under her collar. Silly, silly girl. The venom was already pooling in my mouth, my throat burned scorchingly. Her fate was already decided. Her number was up.
I pushed away from the wall I had been resting against to pursue her. I would make it quick, but not here. Not in front of these shabby houses' dimly lit windows. No, somewhere more private. Somewhere no one would be able to see the real me.
I tried to argue with myself. This was wrong. This was not what Carlisle had taught me. This was something horrible. This was in the past, a different era from the one where I sat suffering in a clearing with Jasper Whitlock. It wasn't real. It didn't stop me from following her.
Rising loathing and guilt ripped through me. She was just a girl, for Pete's sake! Just a silly girl who hadn't known to run when she'd had the chance. Surely she deserved some mercy. She was simply in the wrong place at the wrong time, that was all. But her scent was in my mind, like rose petals, and her heart was beating furiously in her chest, warming her blood. She knew I was following, she could sense it.
The girl walked more quickly, breaking into a jog sometimes, winding around corners breathlessly. Her perfect golden curls bounced down her back, across her shoulders, wafting her scent back my way. Too appealing.
Then she suddenly turned into a house. It was bigger than most of the others around it. Nicer. She swung the door quickly shut behind her and I heard the lock turn in the door. Silly girl. I could have splintered the door off it's hinges, no matter how thick it may have been. I didn't. I waited, patiently, on the roof of the house across the street and listened, intent on the hunt. I heard her heart begin to gradually slow, falsely comforted by the thought that she was safe in her home. She wasn't. "Silly, Lena." She murmured to herself. There was the swish of fabrics. The removal of her coat? Even, steady, pattering footfalls up the stairs onto the second floor.
A light turned on.
A target.
I leaped, my body moving lithely, bat-like, through the darkening evening onto the roof of the silly girl's house. In seconds, I had slid through her unlocked window. She hadn't heard me, but she'd felt the shift in air pressure and turned. Terror lit up her beautiful face, eyes wide, the blood drained from her face. So silly how their blood could do such things depending on their mood. Somewhat fascinating really; a blush to a blanch.
She got the first, strangled syllable of a scream out before I was on her, hand over her mouth, teeth to her neck. A careless mistake. My sharpened teeth sank easily into her neck, sank easily through fat and muscle and tendon as her blood overwhelmed my senses. Real blood. The blood we were supposed to live off of.
I shuddered, throat burning. But that didn't make sense, I was drinking blood. There was no reason to feel thirsty now. In a very distant, compartmentalized part of my mind, I felt the hard, snow-covered ground beneath me. A glimmer of understanding before I was drawn back into the girl.
The door opened behind me, another heartbeat, heavier. Another careless mistake. I fought the instinct to face my intruder. It was a human and I was almost done with the girl. I would deal with the intruder next.
Her life slipped away before her blood did. Pale, perfect, sky blue eyes stared at me unseeingly out of the abyss as I finished. Death was supposed to be peaceful. The girl's corpse looked terrified. I dropped the body at the same time I became aware that something was hitting me. Hitting was too strong of a term, brushing lightly against my back.
I turned to find a man pummeling me with a fragile looking chair. He was a wide man, porcine with a beet red, sweaty face and balding head. The chair came down to crash against me again and splintered as I lunged at him, sinking my teeth into his flabby, salty neck.
More blood.
More screaming.
No, not so much a scream as a choked gasp from the hall.
More heartbeats.
More careless mistakes.
The fat mans blood rushed into my mouth, satiating my thirst. His high blood pressure and frantically beating heart forcing his blood out of the wound. He fell with a muted thud on the thick carpeted floor as I crept out into the hallway. At the end of the hall a tall, elegant looking woman was planted firmly against a door, hands fixed on either side of the frame to barricade my entrance.
I paused for a moment, just long enough to listen. Only two more. Two more heartbeats. Two more careless mistakes and I could be gone.
I wasn't a sadist. I didn't like their fear and suffering. Right now the fear was so thick in the air it was a discernible taste. Bitter and cold. So I didn't draw out her suffering. She couldn't live, despite her murmured pleading. No one could know about this. There could be no witnesses.
Hand over her mouth to keep her from screaming, I bit again. I was so full of blood I was nearly blind - intoxicated by it - but unable to stop. No, I couldn't stop. Even if I'd wanted to, I couldn't stop. This release, no, this indulgence. It had been far too long. Far far too long since I had made myself full. Since I had made myself completely satiated.
The woman clutched against my wrist, tried to push my mouth away, tried to kick me. Impossible tasks. Then she too crumpled, dead, on the floor in the threshold of a thin, white door. One more heartbeat. One more careless mistake.
The room gave me pause. The walls were painted in pastel blues and there was a light, powdery scent in the air. A happy scent. And in the center of the room there was a small crib. A nursery. Part of me recoiled. Part of me was shouting at myself to stop. But that part wasn't very loud or forceful.
The baby was sleeping in the crib. It had that smell, that indescribably innocent baby smell. Dumpling cheeks flushed in sleep while pudgy little fingers grasped the hem of it's blanket. So sweet. So innocent. So . . . savory. A delicacy for the most heinous of all monsters.
He began crying when my teeth broke the skin, pudgy fingers patting frustratedly at my face. Featherlight tickles. Then those too stopped and the house was finally, blissfully, silent.
I piled the bodies together in the girls room, seated them all on a small settee in the room. The perfect, macabre parody of the perfect American family. I began to notice small similarities. The girl had her father's nose, but got her eyes from her mother. The baby boy had inherited his mother's pointed, impish chin.
God.
What kind of monster could do such a thing? What kind of monster . . . The thought was unbearable. An entire family destroyed. Four lives extinguished simply by a series of careless mistakes. Careless, irresponsible mistakes. What kind of monster could do such a thing?
But I knew what kind of monster it was.
I knew.
I had seen it before.
It had been Alice that had stalked the poor girl to her family home. It had been Alice who had drained each of her family members of life in turn. Alice. Mary Alice Brandon. It was Mary Alice Brandon who had later burned the house to the ground to hide the evidence.
Mary Alice Brandon.
It had been me.
I hadn't been able to fully lament the horror and tragedy of the incident then, back in 1914 when I'd first tasted human blood. My body simply wasn't able to produce the sufficient levels of agony and remorse and self-loathing needed to devote to the situation. Not then. Not until Jasper. Jasper had opened up whole new universes of pain for me to discover.
It felt like every good thing I had, every good memory, every good thought, every good inclination, was being mercilessly ripped my from being, leaving me with only the worst, darkest, most hellish memories, thoughts and gestures. I had to go. I had to get away from here. I couldn't bear it.
I managed to gain enough consciousness to scramble another half dozen feet back to the trees before collapsing again. The brick wall of emotion was pulsing, knocking me down, sapping my strength. Agony wasn't a strong enough word. Hate not a deep enough self-loathing. Even the ninth circle of hell could not be worse than this.
Then I caught sight of Jasper.
He was crumpled, head in his hand, on his knees, rocking back and forth. Hugging himself. Dry, miserable sobs choking from his mouth. His eyes were squeezed shut, trapping him in his personal hell. I'd never seen anyone look more broken in my life.
My heartbreak seemed a very small and insignificant feeling compared to the towering, monstrous things Jasper was sharing with me. But it was enough.
I crawled over to where he sat and pulled him into my arms. He pulled me into his lap and hugged me so hard it was crushingly painful as he buried his head in my hair. I tried to sooth him. It was difficult. There was nothing good left in me. No gentle instincts. All I knew was that he was hurting, and I forced my mind to act rationally, to detach itself from my body, and hug him. I whispered reassurances to him, kissed his head, his neck, his cheeks. Squeezed him. Massaged him. Told him I loved him.
It was difficult with the running commentary of all my blackest moments playing behind my eyes. God, how many humans had I killed? I didn't think it had been this many. Too many. Too many days when I hadn't been able to see Jasper. Days when I needed that little bit of extra comfort. Abominable. It wasn't even comforting. The guilt afterwards had always been agony. Ha, agony used to be such a powerful term. A skinned knee or a pinched finger compared to Jasper.
My poor, sweet, sensitive Jasper.
It seemed like hours. No, it was hours, it seemed like centuries, later that the anguish began to lessen. Lessen in very small, minute, gradual degrees. They would have been almost imperceptible to a human mind, but not to my mind. It lessened one tick worth of torture every ten breaths Jasper took, like he was practicing an exercise for control.
I began kissing him again, once for every ounce of control he gained. One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. Seven. Eight. Nine. Ten. Tick. Kiss. I think I hoped he would regain control faster with the added incentive. He didn't. He continued as he had been, one tick every ten breaths. He did, however, eventually, after a long time, begin kissing me back. One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. Seven. Eight. Nine. Ten. Tick. Kiss. Kiss.
His hand brushed lightly against my cheek as he held my face close to his, lips brushing against mine more often. One. Two. Three. Kiss. Four. Five. Six. Kiss. Seven. Kiss. Eight. Nine. Kiss. Ten. Kiss. Kiss. Kiss. Tick.
He opened his muddy brown eyes for the first time in hours. I was expecting to see guilt there maybe. Or that horrid lifeless expression he'd had at the house. I wasn't expecting the burning, passionate gaze he was directing my way now, or the scalding new aura of his emotions.
Scalding was an understatement. I felt like I was being burned alive . . . but not in such a bad way. If I'd been human, I would have been blushing furiously. The way he was projecting desire was like shouting an erotic novel at the top of his lungs. And even more embarrassing, I couldn't help the way I was reacting to it. He had completely overridden my logic. I was putty in his hands.
He kissed me roughly, his hands curled into my hair. There was no control, no tenderness in this Jasper. He was lust in it's purest form. His hands clawed at me, crushed me against his chest as he roughly kissed my lips, my face, my neck, and anywhere else my skin was exposed. His lips left burning trails across my skin as I warred with myself.
Yes, this was what I wanted. Of course I wanted Jasper in this way. But did he want this? Really? Did he really want me? Was I sure this wasn't a misguided byproduct of the emotional torture we'd just been through? Was this just a path to comfort for him? A means to try to forget his darkest moments? Did I mind if it was? Could I take advantage of him in that way? What about after? What would happen when he came back under control and realized what he'd done? Would I be strong enough for that? But what if he knew quite clearly what he was doing right now? What if he knew exactly how his every touch was making me feel? How his every embrace was turning me into mush. How I couldn't help the shivers and sighs that escaped. What if he wanted me to feel this way?
He pushed me back, his lips never leaving contact with mine, and I was once against trapped beneath his weight. All thoughts escaped me, all my mute arguments with myself fell silent. "Yes.", was the only thought I was capable of. Yes. Yes yes yes yes yes. I would deal with whatever the consequences of this was later. After. At a time when I could plead I was as out of control as he was.
My hand ran through his hair as he continued kissing me maddeningly. I ran my hands over his strong shoulders, his arms, his chest, under his shirt to feel the taut, hardened muscles of his back. I traced my fingers over ancient scars, dug my nails into his skin, hugged him. He responded with enthusiasm and his hands closed into fists around the fabric of my dress at my hips. I heard the seams at my shoulders strain, then rip.
The sound brought him back into himself. He froze, his eyes closed, and sighed loudly.
"I'm sorry." I breathed.
He stood up and moved away, standing with his back to me, wordlessly. It was like we'd returned to square one. He was standing in the same spot he'd been when I'd first discovered him here, with his back to me, brooding.
A little ripple of self-righteous anger shot through me. Why should I have apologized to him? It was hardly my fault that he could make me want him like that. It was hardly my fault that he had made me want him like that. Hardly my fault that he'd started kissing me like he needed me more than blood. No, that wasn't my fault at all. He couldn't keep doing this to me. He couldn't. He knew how I felt. He knew that I wanted him more than anything else. I had conveyed that to him a number of occasions. He couldn't keep toying with me like this. He couldn't keep leading me on.
"Please stop, Alice."
"I'm not doing anything." I snapped irritably. It was true, I was still laying where he'd left me.
"Please, I know you have every right to be angry at me, especially after the way I just attacked you, but can you please try to squash it for a few moments." He pleaded.
Attack? Who had said anything about attack? Well, sure, the earlier part, the ceaseless guilt, the agony of remembrance, that had been unpleasant. But I had nearly forgotten about it in the wake of his kisses. The way his lips had crushed against mine and left burning trails of longing had nearly obliterated those thoughts from my head.
"Alice, please." He said in frustration.
"Sorry." I muttered quickly, before taking a deep breath to clear my thoughts. I tried again to look into the future but it was jumbled. I caught flashes of things, most of which I couldn't recognize. They were gone before I could make sense of them. I did think I saw a glimpse of Charlotte and Peter but I immediately questioned those visions when I saw a flash of what looked like Carlisle's face. It was giving me a headache, kind of dizzying, to try to focus on these jolts of color and action.
I gave up and instead just sat with my legs crossed, head resting on my hands. It was dark again, a fact my eyes scarcely registered. The last two days had been utterly miserable. It was almost funny how bad everything had gone. It was like each misfortune had rolled into the next and into the next creating into a giant snowball of misfortune and anxiety that had stopped here, where we were now, with Jasper's back turned to me.
Oh. I was thinking again. Feeling again. I pushed everything out of my mind and focused on the snow in front of me. I could see each individual snowflake; every minute detail of each flake. It was like staring at Formica counter tops for hours on end. Hours and hours of impatient despair while waiting for my handsome stranger . . . Still thinking. Still feeling. Gah, blank. Blank. Blank. Blank.
Jasper chuckled. I glanced up, he was watching me with a tender look on his face. "I'm sorry, Alice. My behavior has been inexcusable."
"I'll tell you what's inexcusable." I said in frustration as I got to my feet, assuming I was allowed to be angry now. "You kissing me like that and -"
"I know. I'm sorry." He cut me off.
"Let me finish." I argued. "You kissing me like that and then pulling away. Do you have any idea what you do to me, Jasper? Do you have any idea, even the slightest clue, how I feel about you? You can't keep doing this to me. I'm going to combust."
He watched me closely for a long minute before a sad smile crept across his lips. "I'm sorry, but do you have any idea what you do to me? Any idea how I feel about you, Alice?"
"No." I growled. "You've never told me. Even though, since the moment I met you, I have been honest and forthcoming with my feelings for you."
"True." He nodded hesitantly. A long, awkward moment of silence passed between us. "I never said anything because I . . . was a coward. I didn't want you to know just how little I deserved your attentions."
I rolled my eyes at him. "I've already told you, I don't care about your past. I don't care what you've done, Jasper."
"But you should." He insisted.
"Fine, plead your case then. Try to make me care. And when you're done, I will kiss you and tell you that it doesn't matter to me in the slightest." I promised.
"I've killed children." He started with a dark glare.
"So have I." I whispered with a grimace.
He frowned. "I don't think you understand the magnitude of that confession."
Was it so much worse if he'd done it once or a hundred times? It was the same crime, and a crime for which I, myself wasn't blameless. I kissed him softly. "It doesn't matter to me."
"I've killed vampires simply because they were in my way or had outlived their usefulness." He tried again.
"You know I'm not innocent of that crime." I said softly, thinking of the maddened newborn we'd come across. I kissed him again.
He sighed angrily. "I'm going about this the wrong way. Alice, all I know is killing. For almost a century, I have been a machine of war and violence. I thrived on it. When I did well, when I killed enough, I was rewarded."
"I know, Jasper." I whispered, trying to kiss him again.
He stopped my lips and his hand moved ever so gently around my throat. "I could kill you, Alice. You know this right? That it is in my nature to kill." He said softly.
"It's in all of our natures to kill." I pointed out.
"Not to the same degree. You thirst only to kill humans and animals. I strive to kill everything in sight. Just like a damned newborn." He countered.
I smiled. "Give yourself a little credit, Jasper. You haven't tried to kill anyone today and plenty of living organisms have crossed your sight."
He dropped his hand from where it rested at my throat and sighed in annoyance. "It's not funny, Alice."
I rolled my eyes again. He was doing a very miserable job at trying to push me away. I wasn't afraid of him in the slightest. I pushed myself up onto my toes and captured his lips with mine, holding his face close to mine with my hands in his hair. He broke my grip easily and leaned away.
He shook his head in frustration. "I believe we talked about you not making yourself so accommodating, Alice."
"We did. But that was before you tried to run off without me." I answered truthfully. "I will be just as accommodating as I need to be to keep you with me."
He hissed. "I'm trying to be a gentleman with you, Alice."
"Don't -" I began.
"Alice, you don't understand. For a century, my every need has been instantly gratified. Not just blood, Alice." He looked at me significantly.
Oh. I wasn't sure how I felt about that. Of course, he'd been alive a lot longer than I had. It was to be expected that there had been others. Others who had loved him in ways that I had not yet accomplished. It hurt a little. It felt like a betrayal, even though the thought was completely ridiculous. He hadn't known me then. He'd been a different person then.
But a little, incessant voice piqued up in my head and reminded me that I had never felt the need to run off and do things with strangers. I had never tried to seduce anyone but him. No. Instead I had sat in stinking diner after diner waiting for him to show up while he was philandering with God knows how many women.
"I do care about you, Alice. As much as I shouldn't, or rather, that you shouldn't care about me, I do. I want to do this right, this time. So please, let me pretend that I'm a gentleman." He whispered and caressed my cheek.
His tenderness wiped my malcontent thoughts from my mind. My gentleman. I sighed, the beginnings of a smile fighting it's way onto my lips. "And you wont try to leave me again? You wont try to sneak off in the middle of the night without me ever again?" I asked. If he could agree to that, then I would let him be a gentleman. Otherwise, I would do everything in my power to bind him to me as permanently as I could manage.
"I am incapable of leaving you now. I tried yesterday evening and was made to come back. I couldn't go more than a foot without my thoughts straying to you. I thought if I tried to say goodbye first it would be more manageable. It wasn't. Thoughts of you stopped me here." He explained softly. "I'll go where you go."
I choked back a sob. Now wasn't a time for crying at his touching words. Now was a time to be dancing ecstatically, singing, shouting, kissing. He wanted me. He loved me, though he still hadn't said so. "Then let's go home."
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A/N: :D So I hope you got to this part. If not, I'm very sorry to the people who had to turn it off.
So there's one more chapter left; the epilogue, and then this story will be complete.
Please remember to review. And if you hated it, let me know that too, just do it as nicely as you can. lol.
Thank you for reading.
~ Allora