Disclaimer: I don't own Twilight or any of its characters. Everything Twilight belongs to Ms. Meyer. No copyright infringement is intended.

Author's Note: Stalkward shall make an appearance. Can we ever get enough of our beloved Stalkward? NO! enjoy.

His nostrils flared, taking in her flowery smell, as venom filled his mouth. She was the sweetest thing he had ever smelled, and she was right inside his manor, in his territory, completely alone with him, and completely unaware of the danger.

Isabella was shivering from head to toe. Her clothes were completely soaked and her wet hair was plastered to her head.

The cold was getting to her, making her mind a little fuzzy. She could barely keep herself upright; her body was giving up. She leaned on the wall of the corridor to steady herself and glanced back at Edward, who looked nonplussed.

She followed his gaze, which was fixed on the floor, where her dirty boots had left muddy trails. The sight of her dirty boot prints on the exquisite marble flooring made her cringe. She started thinking about an apology, but words weren't forming clearly in her head, everything was jumbled up.

Edward, on the other hand, wasn't even remotely concerned with the floor or the dirt marks. His mind was elsewhere, lost in his own dark thoughts.

Isabella's scent had been so powerful, that he couldn't think of anything else for a few seconds. His mind had taken a cue on its own, producing the many scenarios under which he could kill her and drink that sweet nectar she possessed. Her silent mind was the only thing that kept him frozen in place. He was mentally debating with himself on whether to kill her immediately or to keep her alive until he got to know why he couldn't hear her.

"I…I'm s-sorry. Uhh—I'll-I'll clean that up for you," she stuttered, finally drawing the words out.

The sound of her sweet voice brought him back from his nearly deranged state of mind. It was some how able to break through the enchantment that had him entranced.

He raised his eyes and looked at her. She looked frail, as though she would break into a thousand pieces at any moment. Her eyes were half closed, and her pulse was weak.

A weak pulse was not a very appetizing set-up for him. He liked the racing pulse better, with adrenaline pumping the blood straight into his welcoming mouth.

There would be no pleasure in having to suck it out of the prey, it would kill the thrill of the hunt, he thought, as his eyes sized her up.

Suddenly, her legs started to give way and she slumped downwards on to the floor. This prompted him to rush to her side.

He raised her back on her feet, supporting her weak frame with his strong arms. Her sweet scent caused his throat to burn with thirst again. It called to him, coaxing him to take a bite. In a moment of sheer weakness, he lowered his head to her neck and nuzzled it, tracing her jugular vein with his lips. He pulled her body closer to his own, trapping her small frame in his arms as his lips started to suck on the creamy skin of her neck. He was ready to bite her, when a violent shiver shook her whole body and brought him back to his senses. He loosened his grip on her and immediately stopped breathing. It was easier for him to handle this situation by not breathing at all.

"Isabella, are you all right? Isabella… Miss Swan?" He lightly patted on her cheek to make her respond, but she just shook her head and remained silent. Her eyes were now fully closed and her pulse was getting weaker. She was fainting.

Without wasting another precious moment, Edward swiftly lifted her in his arms and carried her to the main hall.

He laid her on the sofa that was nearest to the fireplace and hurriedly kindled the fire. It was a good thing that he always kept the firewood ready inside the fireplace, it proved to be helpful in this peculiar situation.

The firewood popped and crackled, sending its heat in her direction. He brought a few blankets from the guest room and covered her in them.

He was desperately trying to warm her body, as he didn't want her to die.

It would be such a grave misfortune if her sweet nectar got cold. That would be like…utter wastage of a vintage wine, he mused as he observed her.

He could detect the change in her condition now, it was getting better, but just so. He tried to think of any other way that would make her warmer and speed up her recovery.

Slowly, he bent down and lifted the blankets off her body. He saw that her clothes were wet, and realized that this was the reason behind her slow recovery. His hands slowly came up to the buttons of her dress, but then, like a reflex action, they pulled back.

How am I supposed to undress a woman? That too, without her getting the knowledge of my actions. His mind was reeling with confusion.

As he struggled in his mind, he felt her stirring beneath him. He moved back a bit and looked at her.

She gave a violent shiver and then went limp again. She needed to get warmed up, fast.

He rejected every other thought in his mind, and went for her dress buttons again. Her corset prevented further access to her dress, so he loosened it first, and then unbuttoned her entire dress. It was an arduous task for him, taking the layers of clothing off her body.

When he was down to her inner-garments, he stopped, and glanced at her. The view in front of him was something he had not anticipated. In truth, it was his own reaction to her body, which he had underestimated.

He stared at her, bewitched by the delicate perfection of her curves. Her chemise clung to her soft body and outlined its every crest and trough. It was probably the first real instance that he had stopped and appreciated a woman's physical beauty, and he enjoyed every moment of it.

Her body shuddered once more, and he quickly covered it up with blankets again. He drew himself back and away from her, sighing deeply. That was a wrong move, as it brought the dizzying scent of her blood back to him.

He exhaled quickly and backed away.

It's controlling me! I cannot think properly whenever her scent hits me. I can't be so weak, it's pathetic. I'm the one who decides to kill the prey, not the other way round. The prey cannot command me to kill. My control is superior, and it will not bow down to any smell, no matter how sweet or mouth-watering it is. Edward prattled away inside his brain.

He looked over at Isabella again, keenly observing her condition. She was much better now, and her pulse was returning to its normal pace. She was now sleeping peacefully under the comfort of the warm blankets.

He picked up her damp clothes and took them outside to dry. After coming back, he left her clothes in the guestroom and then retreated back to his room.

Edward paced back and forth inside his room, mulling over the strange situation. He had much to consider here. She was no ordinary human. He couldn't hear her mind, and it wasn't because she was lacking it, she was simply out of bounds. This intrigued him as well as irked him at the same time.

Her scent was enough to render him powerless, and that bothered him. He had worked hard to control and channel his thirst, and he was proud of himself. He didn't like feeling helplessly thirsty in her presence; it made the thirst appear stronger than him.

I'm not a slave to my thirst. I'm no Jasper. Carlisle was able to rein in his thirst, therefore, I can do that as well. I can do better than that. I can drink human blood and still be immune to its effect, he concluded in his mental monologue.

Another thing that he had to consider here was that Isabella was no stranger. She was a relation of Charles Swan, his employee and his best liaison man. He was an asset to his business, and the best thing about him was that he kept his distance. He knew what Charles thought of him, and he knew that Charles's conclusion about him wasn't all incorrect. It just didn't matter. Despite his suspicions, Charles remained loyal to him. That mattered most to Edward.

I can't just go ahead and kill his niece on a whim. That would be a blow to the man's loyalty, thought Edward.

"Besides, she looks too tempting to throw away like that," he blurted to himself, his mind racing back to the grand hall, to her luscious body.

Once again, he found himself on the verge of losing control of his senses. This time, though, it was her body that did him in, not her scent.

It upset him, to be weak in any form or way, and seeing himself react to that girl in such ways made him feel weak. He decided not to consider her in any way whatsoever, because every way led to the same consequence—his destruction.

After a few hours, he heard Isabella stirring and squirming on the sofa. He could gauge that she was about to wake up.

Isabella tried to open her eyes, but they weren't obeying her. She felt extremely tired and her body ached badly. Finally, after much struggle, she wearily opened her eyes.

The sight that greeted her was unfamiliar to her. She didn't recognise the room or the furniture; she couldn't recognise anything in there. Panicking, she got up hurriedly and looked around the room. It was huge and lavish, with exquisite furniture and tapestry. Such opulence was alien to her, thus, it left her perplexed.

She walked toward the end of the hall, where a long corridor began. Her mind clicked and she recognised the corridor. She was still caught up in the haze of weakness, and couldn't remember the events of last night clearly. However, she definitely remembered knocking on the door of Mr. Masen's mansion.

"Good morning Miss…Swan." The end of his sentence came out as a sigh, as Edward struggled to keep his lust at bay. She was standing there in his hall, in nothing but a flimsy chemise.

Isabella whirled around and saw him standing at the end of the curved staircase. She noticed a strange smirk on his face, and wondered what might have amused him.

"I suppose it would be better if you get dressed, we don't want you to get cold again. There's a guest room straight ahead." His smirk grew as he spoke.

Isabella blushed profusely as she realised the state of her undress. She had been so preoccupied with her surroundings that she forgot check her clothing in the process.

Edward turned around and went upstairs, giving her some privacy, along with giving himself some peace of mind.

Isabella found her clothes inside the guest room. They appeared to have been dried, but in a haphazard way, as though they were left to dry in a whirlwind. She quickly put them on, coming out of the guestroom fully dressed. Her blush hadn't gone away, as she was still feeling embarrassed.

She was shuffling around in the hall, searching for her boots, when Edward came back.

"Looking for these?" He pointed to the pair of boots that he held in his hand; her boots.

She nodded and walked towards him, feeling painfully shy and embarrassed.

He handed the boots to her and observed her closely as she started putting them on. Her blush was making it difficult for him to control his thirst.

This is just foolishness. I should just do the deed. No one will ever know. I'm sure no one expected her to land here in the first place. I won't be the target of any suspicion. Fate has literally dropped her in my lap, like a gift that I had always wanted…the sweetest blood…the finest wine. His thoughts were going haywire again.

He took a step towards her, planning out his attack.

She was completely oblivious to his approach, struggling with the boots, as her weak hands were not able to grip the leather properly. Her struggle made her chest heave, and Edward definitely didn't miss that. Even though her dress was a modest one, being in a bent forward position lowered the neckline. That gave him a fleeting view of her cleavage. Seeing her feminine curves did him in, eradicating all his plans of attacking her right there.

He crouched down in front of her and pushed her hands away, easing her delicate foot into the boot effortlessly. He repeated the same with the other foot, swallowing the venom that was flowing into his mouth.

"I thought ladies liked their shoes more feminine." Edward smirked at her again. He was trying to make light conversation to get to know her better, just to keep his mind off the bloodlust.

"They—umm—they're better, more comfortable to move around in," she replied, looking at her boots. She then peeked at her dress, which had been ruined by the rain. It was one of the dresses that her uncle had bought her in Port Angeles.

The thought of Port Angeles brought back the memories of yesterday, of Charles.

"Oh God…," she whispered to herself, thinking about Charles.

"Pardon?" Edward felt annoyed for the fact that he couldn't hear her thoughts.

"My uncle… he was expecting me…yesterday. I-I couldn't make it back home…because my carriage got stuck in the rain—I got lost and came here," she blurted out in a hurry, her voice shrill. She was panicking with the thoughts of her uncle being worried sick about her. She needed to see him, as quickly as possible.

"I'll take you home. But first, you need to eat something. Your body is suffering from weakness, therefore I suggest that you have breakfast here, and then go home," he said, making his way toward the kitchen.

"No, no…I'm fine, Mr. Masen. I just want to go home; I'm worried about my uncle. Please, just take me home. I'm already indebted by your kindness. Thank you for taking me in last night." She tried to dissuade him from the breakfast invitation.

"Miss Swan, I don't think that your uncle has told you much about me, but I must tell you this…I don't take 'no' for an answer," he said sternly, still smirking at her. Though, he was smiling, the tone of his voice sent chills down her spine.

Edward was trying to make her stay longer. He knew that he shouldn't, but something inside him made him do it. He wanted to observe her, to probe her, to pry every little bit of information out of her, since he couldn't read her mind. Along with that, her silence brought with it some new experiences, like the refreshing feeling of noiseless, pure and unadulterated peace. It was a strange experience, her thoughts not interrupting his own.

She followed him inside the kitchen, in total silence. He asked her about her preferred meal, checking the pantry for supplies. He was mentally cursing himself for not planning beforehand.

"Just anything, I don't have any preference. Please don't trouble yourself, Mr. Masen." She desperately wanted to get out of there, to see Charles. Besides her personal reasons for wanting to leave, something didn't feel right to her about this place. Even the kitchen looked barren and unused, as though no one ever cooked anything there, which was strange.

He couldn't find anything in the kitchen, since he didn't use it at all. Nevertheless, he was determined to keep her with him a little longer. He brought her back to the grand hall and told her to wait for a few minutes.

Edward dashed towards the nearest homestead and brought back a freshly baked cake, and home cooked eggs and bacon.

"How did you manage it? Where did you…?" She was perplexed by his ability to bring breakfast out of nowhere.

"I have my ways, now eat." He smiled at her, thinking about how he had bribed the family at the homestead.

She ate in silence, feeling extremely uncomfortable under his steady gaze.

There's something anomalous about him. He looks so pale and tired, as though he hasn't been sleeping properly. And his eyes…I've never seen anyone who has maroon eyes. What a strange color. He's exceptionally handsome, though, but he gives off an eerie feeling, she thought, meeting his gaze a few times.

"What are you thinking?" He couldn't contain his curiosity.

"Umm…," she tried to conjure up an answer, "that the breakfast is really good…delicious." She averted her gaze. Her heartbeat increased; she wasn't a very good liar.

"What are you actually thinking?" He smirked, hearing her erratic heartbeat.

"Why are you not eating?"

His gaze hardened at her question.

"I'll eat later. I usually have my breakfast around nine O'clock. Leaving that aside, please do tell me, why were you alone yesterday? Why did you not have a chaperon with you?" He tried to change the topic.

"I…my uncle wasn't feeling well, he needed the rest. So, I went on my own," she replied, looking down.

"And where were you going?"

"I was coming back from a social gathering…at the Webber residence."

She got up, collecting the plates, but he stopped her and took the plates from her hands.

"Do not worry about this; I'll take care of it. The house-cleaning maid will be here soon. Now, let me take you back to your beloved uncle." He forced a smile on his lips and gestured for her to follow him outside.

"So, what happened to your carriage?" He asked her as they sat inside his horse car, bigger and more luxurious than her uncle's.

"Honestly speaking, I have no recollection of where exactly I left it last night. It was dark and the rain made it difficult to see anything. I just remember the part where I tied the horses to a tree. I think I was on the path only…" She tried to recollect the events of last night.

"I will check up on that for you." With that, he turned and pulled at the reins.

Isabella sat in silence as the carriage moved in the direction of her home. She looked at him, keenly observing him while his back was turned toward her. She had noticed many things about him by now.

He has an air of confidence, akin to being superior. His whole persona is so overbearing and somewhat daunting. He looks young, so may be…being successful and rich at such a young age has made him like that. I wonder... She processed about him in her mind.

Another thing she noticed was the way the horses were behaving. They appeared to be nervous, with their heads shaking constantly, as if trying to run in a different direction, but they weren't misbehaving like her horses. They galloped along the path in a disciplined manner, and were easily being manoeuvred by him. She wondered if the horses also felt the same unease around him that she felt.

Isabella ran towards her house in haste, calling out to her uncle. Her legs felt wobbly and weak, but she ignored it.

Charles was sitting in the drawing-room, tired and weary. He had been searching for his niece since early morning, with no luck.

Suddenly, Isabella's voice broke through the walls of the room, lifting his heavy heart and low spirits.

She rushed to him and gave him a tight hug. She was awfully relieved to find him there, safe and fine.

"Isabella! My child! Where were you? I've been looking for you everywhere!"

"I'm so sorry Uncle…I'm so, so sorry…I had been careless. I didn't pay attention to the time and got caught up in the storm last night." Tears welled up inside her eyes and her voice cracked.

"Oh god! Issy…everything is fine now. You're safely back home. Thank God for that." Charles breathed a sigh of relief.

"Good to see a family reunion." Edward stood in the doorway, looking quite pleased. The emotional fragility of humans amused him.

"Mr. Masen?" Charles was shocked to see his employer at his doorstep. Visiting people, even his own relatives, wasn't a habit of Edward Masen.

"Oh, Mr. Masen! I'm so sorry! I completely forgot..." Isabella trailed off.

"It's fine, Miss Swan, I understand," he said, reassuring her that he wasn't mad at her for ignoring him. He looked at Charles and continued, "Charles, take good care of her. I believe she is still weak."

"Yes, of course, Mr. Masen. But how…?" He looked at Isabella, confused.

"A fallen tree had blocked my way and the horses weren't behaving, therefore I tried to walk back…but I lost my way and then stumbled upon a trail that led to Mr. Masen's residence. He…he took me inside and saved my life." She tried to give a concise account of her ordeal.

"I don't know how to thank you, Mr. Masen. You saved my niece and brought her back. You've been so kind to me…always. I feel extremely indebted to you, and really don't know how to repay you." Charles expressed his gratitude.

Edward nodded. "Perhaps," he said, as his gaze shifted to Isabella and then back to Charles, a wicked smile growing on his lips, "you will be able to repay me some day."

With that, he bid farewell to them.

"Issy?" Charles knocked on her door.

"Yes, Uncle, come in…it's open," she mumbled sleepily as she sat up in her bed.

"How are you feeling now?" He enquired as he came inside and sat in the chair beside her bed.

"I'm fine, Uncle, feeling just a little lethargic, but it's nothing, really." She didn't want him to needlessly worry for her.

He nodded, but his face still held a grave and weary expression.

"I'll never be so careless again. I let you go alone, and I cannot stop cursing myself for it. I've been a bad father…," he trailed off, looking away.

"No, Uncle, it's not so. Please, don't think like that. If anyone was at fault, it was I. It was very imprudent of me to not leave when the sun was still up. I would have reached safely…," she said, looking at her hands, feeling guilty.

"Issy, you must have been very engrossed, it happens, dear. Don't blame yourself. You needed to have a chaperon with you, and I failed to fulfil that part."

"Uncle, please, just stop blaming yourself," she said, looking at him pleadingly.

"I'll stop if you stop as well." He gave her a wan smile and patted her head affectionately.

She smiled back at him, and nodded weakly, feeling relieved at seeing him smile again.

"I must go and make dinner now," she said, getting up from her bed.

"You don't need to, Mrs. Webber came today, while you were resting, and she brought the dinner. She knew you would be tired." He gestured for her to sit back on the bed.

"Oh, that's so thoughtful of her. I must thank her for it."

"Yes, I thanked her, and I'll take you to the Webber residence tomorrow."

Later, they went downstairs to have their dinner.

"Umm…Issy?" Charles broke the silence as they ate.

"Yes, Uncle?"

"How was Mr. Masen…I mean, how did he react when he saw you? How did he treat you?"

"Uhh, well, I don't remember much, as I was feeling extremely tired and weak; I think I fainted at his doorstep. Nevertheless, he was…very kind towards me. In the morning, he brought me breakfast as well…I think he's a very kind person." She indeed felt indebted. Even though she was somewhat taken aback by Edward's overbearing nature, she couldn't deny the fact that he had, in fact, saved her life.

"Yes, he's a kind man. He has always been very generous towards me. I only asked because…because he doesn't like people visiting him, and at such odd hours, he must have been a bit annoyed, I assume. But he saved your life, nonetheless." Charles wanted to end the conversation now. He didn't feel like sharing his fears with his niece. He was indeed very glad that Edward had brought his niece back in perfect shape.

"Yes." Isabella couldn't think up any other response. She had been able to see that fleeting emotion of worry on Charles's face, and wondered what might be bothering him.

She got up and started collecting the utensils.

"Issy, leave it, I'll do it tonight. You need to rest." He gestured for her to go to her room. She sighed and nodded reluctantly, wishing him goodnight as she made her way to her room.

Isabella was struggling against it. She tried to scream, but nothing came out. The green of the forest had engulfed her completely, it was suffocating her.

She felt trapped, unable to see anything clearly, weariness obnubilating her vision. The only things she could see were the thick green vines that had her in a chokehold.

Suddenly, the vines took shape of a pair of hands. The hands felt cold, almost freezing. They didn't let go of her, instead, they pulled her backwards. She felt a hard body behind her. The hands pulled her closer to the body, tightening their grip on her. She tried to turn around, but couldn't, as the hands held her firm and she couldn't.

She struggled again, trying to break free, but her attempts proved fruitless. Then, she felt something touching her neck, a pair of ice-cold lips. The lips lightly caressed her skin, nuzzling her neck. She shivered at the touch. The lips parted slightly, and slowly started sucking on her neck. She heard a low groan from behind her, as the lips increased their pressure on her skin.

She felt paralysed, with both shock and fear. Her struggles had ceased.

The hands loosened their grip on her and travelled to her shoulders, tracing her collarbone as if trying to memorize its shape.

A low whimper escaped her lips, as the combined effect of the hands and lips clouded her senses. It felt wrong to her. It was making her feel things she had never felt before. She was afraid of these feelings.

The whole situation petrified her. She wanted to run away, but the cold hands wouldn't let her. She wanted to think clearly, but the icy lips paralysed her brain.

Isabella woke up with a start, startled by the dream. She was breathing heavily and her heart was pounding in her chest. She looked around herself in panic, half-expecting to find the green vines or those icy hands around her. The dream felt too real to her, as though she was experiencing it actually. She was positive that she felt the icy coldness of those hands and lips on her skin.

She climbed out of her bed and went towards her window. She needed some fresh air to clear her head. Peering out of her window, she felt the fear of her nightmare grip her again. The forest loomed ahead in front of her. It looked eerie and haunted, a monster that was waiting for its prey. She shuddered as she thought about her nightmare again and quickly went back to her bed.

She didn't feel like sleeping again, but her tired body caved in. As she drifted back into a deep slumber, a shadowy figure appeared at her window, climbing into her room silently.

Isabella slept soundly for the remainder of the night, under the watchful eyes of Edward Masen.

Creepy Edward, hell yeah! Do tell me what you think about his creepiness. Like it or hate it?

Read and Review please. Thanks!


A/N: ShadeFighting300/ Johana- I deliberately started out with a longish start, so that the characters could be portrayed properly, as they are not canon. And I love the past, I always wanted to write a fic which was set in the past. Thank you, really appreciated your response.