Hi,

Change in POV in this chapter. Gotta introduce Emmett!

Thanks to my lovely ladies Lou and Nancy for pre-reading and betaing.

Thanks to Stephenie Meyer for creating these characters.

Chapter 7

Emmett's POV

"Holy Mother of Jesus!"

The bartender giggles, following the direction of my stare. There she stands, my dream girl. Stunning, head to toe.

"Hah," he snorts," don't even think about it. She's going to be your worst nightmare."

"Oh, c'mon, dude! Look at her, she's perfect."

"She does have the looks, but believe me, the woman is cold and heartless. Whoever approaches, she kicks them away; I've been witnessing how she gets rid of suitors for three nights in a row. She's fun to watch, you know, a little theatrical."

I concentrate on the amber liquid in my glass.

If the girl is as cold as ice, I could be the bourbon, and splash around her until she melts. Who knows, maybe it's worth the try. She's perfect, and I'm so bored in this godforsaken place.

I vacate the bar stool, grabbing my jacket in one hand and my glass in the other. She's found an empty table and chooses a seat. While she waves to summon the waiter, I'm already beside her and toss my jacket over the back of the chair next to hers. Her beautiful profile freezes in surprise, and for a couple of seconds, she doesn't look at me. Then she shakes her head, still looking away, and her long, golden curls bounce mesmerizingly.

"Beat it," she hisses.

I stay.

Make them feel insecure, that's what works with the chicks. Make them blush and fidget, make them second-guess their words. When you finally tell them you like them, they'll be grateful.

I put my glass on the table and bend, so I can speak very close to her ear.

"Name's Emmett, I'm here to melt you."

Before I even manage to withdraw, she stands, facing me, her hands on her hips. The ocean blue of her eyes gleams, her lips are pursed, and then her white dress is suddenly too close to my chest. I'm fascinated by the string of pearls rising and falling with her breathing. It's too close, indecently close - ah, and now she's pressing her boobs against my tee. Her boobs are actually sandwiched between us two, and, oh, shit, her hands grab my ass.

Next, she slightly scrapes the skin on my neck with her teeth, which is the moment I refuse to comprehend the situation. A very warm part of her body rubs against my groin, my cock comes to life, and I huff loudly. She licks where her teeth scraped before. I'm sweating.

"I believe you need the bathroom, melter."

I do need the bathroom.

I jerk off in the stall, calm my breathing, and step back into the bar, my chin low in defeat. I take back the stool I vacated earlier.

I need my glass.

Shit, I need my glass, and it's back there on her table. Screw the glass, I can have another, but then I remember my jacket is with her, too. Shit. I finally turn my head to make sure my jacket is still in place, and that she is still in place, but she's gone. My jacket and my glass are gone, too.

"I guess you need these," a voice announces somewhere behind me. My glass appears before my eyes, held by a delicate, manicured hand, and after that, my jacket appears in my field of vision. She steps around and faces me once again, only this time, I'm sitting and she looks at me from above. "Don't bother to thank me."

She's pure evil. She's wonderful.

Her retreating figure is enchanting. Those asscheeks moving under the white material sing a song for me.

"Told you." The bartender giggles once again. I'm about to snap at him when I hear the shuffle of a sheet of paper from where I'm squeezing my jacket. It's a hotel slip. She must have shoved it in my hand together with the jacket. There's a number written, and a name.

204

Rosalie.

I pay for my drink and immediately head to the hotel, knowing perfectly well where it is. It's the same hotel I checked in earlier today, only a block away.

I knock on door 204, and it opens while my hand is still in the air.

Rosalie grabs the collar of my shirt in her fists, pulls me inside, and kisses me, vigorously. Then she breaks the kiss and uses her toes to kick the door closed.

She's still wearing her white dress, and a minute later, she demonstrates there isn't any underwear underneath.

She's a goddess, all too perfect to be real; and yet, we make real love, repeatedly. She's passionate, inventive, initiative, kinky. This is heaven on Earth.

Then I ask her what's happening. Because this can't be real, not if she isn't after me for a reason.

And she tells me about her brother and his wife, who happens to be her best friend. It's a long and complicated story, and explains why she's been so careful in choosing who to ask for help.

"... I wouldn't ask you to do such a strange thing, but when my friend's life is endangered, nothing will stop me. What's more, if Jasper succeeds in killing her, I'm next. So, what do you say, will you help me?"

I say yes, because how do you say no to this wonderful creature? We agree on a meeting with Alice, her friend, the following morning. We will discuss her brother's "delicate mental condition", that's how she puts it, and the details of her plan.

An hour later, when I'm lying in my bed, alone in my hotel room, it comes to my mind that kidnapping a patient from the hospital is actually a crazy idea.