Title: You Found Me
Full Summary: Edward Masen has lived the life of a nomadic vampire, travelling with James and Victoria since he awoke as an immortal. His ability to read minds has had the unusual side effect of making him a vampire with a conscience. Despite the ridicule from his coven mates, he's confident he's making the best of his existence and doing what's morally right... until he stumbles upon a brown-eyed girl reading in a meadow in Forks. As he attempts to befriend her and learns more about the sleepy town of Forks, Edward finds there's a lot more to being a vampire than he ever thought possible.
Pairings: Canon
Rating: M, for language and future sexing.
Chapter: Five; Delusion
POV: Edward
AN: Not much to add today but the usual thanks to readers and reviewers alike. I also realized today, that since writing this I've not stopped to thank Jana, who has been kind enough to beta this story for me, even though Twilight isn't her cup of tea. I think I'm winning her over to our side, slowly but surely, though…
xx
On Thursday afternoon, I had psyched myself up to be ready and waiting for my brown-eyed girl when she showed up at three fifteen. Thankfully, the sky was a moody grey, which allowed me to safely venture to the meadow without raising any suspicions.
It was abundantly clear, even from our too-brief conversation, that she had remembered me, from the less than four seconds she had glimpsed me over a week ago.
I knew that she probably wouldn't see me for what I was: a vampire. But there was no way she wouldn't remember the boy who appeared out of thin air in the middle of the woods and fucking sparkled to boot. That wasn't something one saw often. She hadn't asked about my appearance, though. It hadn't even seemed an issue, granted we had spoken all of two minutes.
I was inordinately pleased that she remembered me at all. Yes, I looked like a sparkler, lit by the sun, but she remembered me. Did it really matter why? I was confident her beautiful boy would soon be a thing of the past.
If not, there were ways of remedying that… I couldn't exactly kill him myself, not if I wanted to remain in the good graces of the girl with the brown eyes, but I was sure James would take great pride in slaughtering an innocent high school boy, given the barest of reasons. That could be arranged. Quite easily, in fact.
I scoffed in disgust at the direction my thoughts had taken. Here I was, a 104-year-old vampire, plotting the demise of some blameless high school kid, because I was fucking jealous. I wasn't naïve enough to think I wasn't jealous. I knew I was. I could almost feel my eyes returning to their original green shade, as the jealousy had washed over me the moment they landed on that journal.
I resolved there would be no need for murder. The brown-eyed girl was mine now, whether she liked it or not. I would just have to get her to see things my way.
Mr. Beautiful would find another, less extraordinary human girl to be pretty for, eventually. Until then, he could go fuck himself because he wasn't getting anywhere near the brown-eyed girl, if I had anything to say about it. She was too good for him.
Today I had come prepared to dazzle. Mind over matter. I had steeled myself to sit cross-legged in that meadow and simply talk to her, like a normal person. Breathing and all. I could do it, I knew I could. I was still irked that I had faltered so easily yesterday, almost immediately after I'd caught a whiff of her scent.
I had spent most of the previous night, after I'd fled from the meadow, recalling the potency of her scent, flawless in its temptation, in memory alone. I'd practiced for hours, willing my body not to react. By the ninth hour of solid concentration I could sit stock still while thinking of nothing but the intoxicating smell of strawberries and freesia.
I still wasn't willing to risk her life by any means, but I now had the confidence in myself I'd lacked in our previous encounters. I cared too much for her to risk her spilling so much as a drop of blood. If it came down to it, I'd flee again. I hoped that would be unnecessary.
Now, if she'd just show up, already…
Patience was usually one of the few virtues I possessed. Today it seemed to have disappeared. Though I could usually sit perfectly still for hours on end, I fidgeted with my clothes and my hair incessantly as I waited for my brown-eyed girl to show, praying I hadn't scared her off with my utter stupidity and lack of manners.
After a few minutes that felt more like hours, she appeared in the thin gap between the trees that marked her path to the meadow. Her face split into a wide grin when her eyes lit on me. I found myself grinning back, distractedly hoping my teeth didn't frighten her. If they did, she didn't show it.
She immediately broke into a jog, heading towards me with purpose. I monitored her progress dutifully, prepared to break her fall if she took a tumble, something she seemed to do with astonishing frequency.
When she was within a few yards of me, she slowed, and I noticed her falter. It was apparent she wasn't sure how close to me she wanted to situate herself. I wondered briefly if that was due to her hesitation towards me, or some unwelcoming, predatory vibe I was emitting. Probably a combination of both, I reasoned.
Eventually she seated herself in the grass five feet away from me. Her grin was still present and seemingly permanent in my presence, a fact which pleased me.
"Hi," she whispered through her smile, her eyes fixed firmly on mine. They widened a minuscule amount as they took in the strange burgundy colour.
"Hello," I breathed, carefully inhaling her scent, and breathing it out again. Confidence swelled up inside of me when I managed to remain perfectly still. My thoughts hardly veered towards thirst. I kept a careful check on myself. I would not ruin this with overconfidence.
Her voice was shy and tentative when she spoke next. "You came back. Somehow, I knew you would. You left kind of abruptly…" She trailed off, fishing for an explanation.
"Yes," I admitted, segueing into a lie with ease. "I'm sorry about leaving so suddenly. I remembered my sister had requested that I be home before she returned from work. We were to leave for her fiancé's place in the city as soon as she returned."
"Oh," she said softly. "You live with your sister. In Forks?" She tried to mask it, but I heard the hopeful note in her voice. It was strange having to rely on body language. I'd neglected visual and aural cues for the better part of the last century due to my ability to read minds.
"Yes," I nodded. "Since our parents passed away. We moved here just last week. We move a lot, my sister's job requires it," I explained, matter-of-factly.
"Oh," she repeated, disappointment colouring the single syllable.
"It won't be a problem much longer," I responded boldly. "I'm nearly 18. I'll be going to college soon. I want to stay in Washington State."
"You do?" she asked skeptically. "Why? There's nothing special here."
"I have my reasons," I said vaguely. She didn't question me further.
We lapsed into silence briefly. I had the feeling neither of us wanted to waste the time we had together. We both started to speak at the same time, so I motioned for her to go first.
"I've been looking forward to seeing you all day," she admitted. "I was worried you weren't real. You remind me of something out of a fairy tale."
I felt the panic start to rise in me. She was going to ask why I sparkled. Even though I'd prepared an answer, the tension was causing me to lose my careful grip on my control. I took a deep breath and let it out, centering myself again, before responding.
"Why's that?" I asked, my voice sounding hoarse to me, though the change in pitch was so minimal I doubt she noticed.
"I don't know," she shrugged, a pretty flush rising to her cheeks. "I guess you just seem kind of magical. Like, here we are in the middle of the forest, surrounded by long grass and wildflowers… meeting one another in secret. Seems like something out of Snow White to me."
"Snow White?" I chuckled briefly at the image. "Well, you are the fairest of them all," I teased, referring to her smooth, pale skin, which was still a shade darker than mine. "Do you sing to animals, too?"
I pushed to the back of my mind her singing blood, and the irony that I was the worst kind of animal.
"No," she said quickly. "Do you?"
"No. The animals are more likely to flee from me, I'm afraid," I admitted, truthfully. That might have had more to do with my vampire nature than my singing, though she didn't have to know that. "Singing was never in Prince Charming's job description, anyway."
"No," she agreed, folding her small hands in her lap, looking down at them as she spoke, probably to hide her deepening blush. I saw it anyway. "You remind me of him, though. You're really beautiful, you know." I almost choked on my venom.
"Beautiful?" I questioned incredulously. I knew I hadn't misheard, but that particular word wouldn't quite register in my mind as being attached to me. The implications abounded. Could that mean…?
"Yes," she nodded vigorously, staring into my eyes meaningfully. "You've got the most stunning eyes I've ever seen. They're not brown or plum, but somewhere in between, with red thrown in to make them even more unusual. I didn't even know such a colour was possible."
"It's not common," I agreed, immediately spewing out the lie Victoria, James and I had concocted to explain our eye colour when we would forgo colour contacts. "My sister and I both have the same eye colour. We were told it's classified under 'violet', which is considered a category within blue eyes. Dad had blue eyes. Our mother had hazel eyes, though, so the warmth of the shade probably comes from her side."
"Oh," she replied again.
I was beginning to enjoy how much I could read about her from the way she muttered the word differently each time she said it. She was the most interesting person I'd ever met. Never before had I really thought about the various ways one could say "oh." It was never necessary.
"That's so cool," she continued after a beat. "My eyes are just boring brown."
"Your eyes are not boring," I admonished. "They're amazingly expressive and warm. Like chocolate melting in the sun."
"Thanks," she said shyly. "You're still ten times as beautiful as I am. And that's a modest estimate." There was that word again.
"What exactly do you mean when you say I'm beautiful?" I wondered. I wanted more than just a tangent on how unusual my eye colour was. I knew that already.
"Nothing that isn't already obvious."
She flushed more fiercely than I'd seen yet. Thankfully, rather than making me thirsty, the blood pooling in her cheeks made me want to stroke them and see if they felt as soft and warm as they looked. I didn't trust myself to do it, nor did I think it would be polite. Even if I felt as if I knew her, she hardly knew me. I resolved not to touch her until I had told her the truth.
"Surely you know what you look like."
"I have looked in a mirror before, yes." I frowned. That answer told me nothing.
"So you know, then."
I shook my head in disagreement. "I don't think I do."
"Are you really going to make me spell it out?" she asked, clearly floundering somewhere between embarrassed and irritated. "You've got perfect bone structure. Cheek bones up to here, a jaw that I'm sure could cut glass if you tried it, and a perfectly straight nose. And your hair… it's as unusual as your eyes, and I love that it seems to have a life of its own."
"Oh," I said, borrowing my new favourite word. "Would you call me a beautiful boy, then?" I asked slyly.
If I thought I'd seen the epitome of the perfect blush before, it was nothing compared to what she brought to the table now. "How – I mean – what – where did you hear that?" she stuttered.
"Nowhere," I said innocently.
"Okay," she said flatly, the colour in her cheeks returning almost to normal. "Um. Yes, I would call you that. I guess."
I gave myself an internal fist-pump. It was me! Me! Angels sung a hallelujah chorus in the distance somewhere. I had considered murder for naught. I suddenly felt stupid. If I could have mirrored her blush, I would have. I had mused for hours that Mr. Beautiful wasn't good enough for her. And fuck if I wasn't right. She was too good for me.
My mission impossible had suddenly become infinitely easier. Now there was just the pesky problem that I was omitting key points of my identity and pretending to be someone (and more importantly something) I was not. I decided I would worry about that later, once we had gotten to know one another better.
"Are you sure you mean beautiful? Not, say, 'handsome,' or 'rugged, but undeniably gorgeous?'" I prodded hopefully. Maybe I could sway her to using a term that made me seem less effeminate.
"No," she countered, the flush permanently affixed to her cheeks. "You're definitely beautiful. Have I hurt your masculine pride?"
"No," I huffed.
"Sorry. I'm just calling it like I see it," she said, yanking out a handful of grass nervously, probably worried she'd offended me.
"If it makes you feel any better," I told her, with a smile meant to reassure her, "I think you're incredibly beautiful, as well."
"A little," she confessed. "Though, I really can't imagine why. You're a Greek god personified. You aren't actually some illegitimate demi-god son of some promiscuous higher-up god, are you?"
I laughed heartily. "I wish."
"It would explain the sparkling," she muttered. So now she brings it up. Would I ever understand what this girl was thinking?
"Sparkling?" I forced another laugh, careful to make sure that I sounded genuinely surprised.
"Yeah. When I saw you last week, wherever the sun hit your skin, it seemed to glow from within."
"Glow?" I laughed incredulously, as though the mere idea was preposterous. "You try running about the forest for two hours and we'll see if you glow too."
"Sweat?" she said, disappointed. "That's all it was?"
"I'm afraid so."
"What about the inhuman speed? And how did you fall from a tree and walk away without a scratch?" she asked, still not prepared to concede that I was human, apparently. After what she'd seen me do, I couldn't say I blamed her.
I pretended to scratch my head absently. "Well let's see… I run track, so I guess you could say I'm quite fast. As you can see, I'm quite lean for my height," I explained, purposely unfurling my legs and stretching out in the grass. Her eyes followed the line of my body as I did so. "Long legs, minus extra baggage makes for excellent speed, I suppose."
"And the tree?" she persisted.
I furrowed my brow. "I think you must be imagining things. I never fell out of a tree. Well, not recently," I lied. "Maybe when I was a kid, but I sustained all the usual scrapes and bruises."
"Oh," she puffed out, deflating slightly. I smiled at her usage of the word. "I'm sorry," she apologized, "You must think I'm insane asking you all these weird questions. I'm not, I promise. I'm usually so pragmatic it worries my parents."
"That's a good thing," I said quietly. "No point in needlessly worrying the ones who love you."
"Yeah," she agreed, sighing.
Quiet blanketed the air around us, as we contented ourselves looking at one another and our surroundings. After a few minutes of companionable silence, she spoke up once again.
"Hey… I don't even know your name."
"Edward. Edward Masen."
"Edward," she mimicked, as if testing to see how the name fit in her mouth. She nodded, eventually. "It fits you. Like Edward Rochester. Or Edward Ferrars. Both distinguished, good old-fashioned men."
"Are you kidding me?" I asked in disgust. "You're comparing me to a brooding old man who can't do anything right and the most dull romantic hero ever created?"
"Sorry?" she laughed. The sound warmed my stone-cold heart. Suddenly, I didn't mind the comparison. "Those are classics, by the way. You ought to appreciate them. Besides, Hugh Grant played Ferrars, and some would say he's hot."
"Would you?" Jealousy burned in my throat.
"I guess," she nodded. "There's something about a British accent…" she trailed off suggestively.
"Okay," I muttered dryly, putting on a British accent. I probably sounded stupid as hell, but it made her laugh, so it was worth it.
"Very sexy." A smirk twisted the corner of her mouth.
"And, for the record, I appreciate the classics just fine," I added. "You just happened to list two of the most dreadful characters ever to be immortalized with pen and paper. The only way it could have been any worse was if you brought up Heathcliff," I said innocently, knowing full well I was goading her. She had brought Wuthering Heights with her to the meadow twice last week.
She gasped. "Heathcliff is so passionate and lovelorn. How can you feel anything but pity for him? He's cruel, yes, but he's also treated horribly by others, like his foster-brother who never recognized his sweetness when he was a child. They turned him cold and cruel, not the other way around. It's a case of nurture over nature," she argued passionately, colour brushing her cheeks for an entirely different reason.
"I seem to have stumbled onto a topic you know a lot about," I teased.
"Erm, yes. I love to read. Books, fantasy, escape… you know. It's the one thing I'm really passionate about," she admitted.
"I can see that," I nodded.
"What about you?" she asked quietly.
"What about me?"
"What are you passionate about?" she wondered shyly.
I was quite embarrassed to admit to myself that there was absolutely nothing that I was passionate about. Arguing with James didn't really count… I'd already told her I'd run track and brushed the topic off, as though I didn't care much for it, beyond participating in it. So I settled on the one thing I could remember enjoying as a human.
"Piano."
"You play?"
I nodded, even though I hadn't touched ivory since I'd stopped needing air to breathe.
"I used to compose some, too."
"So," I cut in, before she could ask further questions. "I told you my name. But you went off into a rant about how Heathcliff was wronged before you could tell me yours…"
"Bella Swan," she said quickly, looking up into my eyes, before quickly looking away again.
"Beautiful," I murmured, staring at the girl I now knew as Bella. The name was entirely fitting.
She nodded. "Yeah, that's what it means. In Italian."
"That's not what I was talking about." I smiled, anticipating the red cheeks I knew were imminent.
"Oh." She flushed and looked at her lap, and I grinned at the predictable response. I liked that I could do that to her.
"Even more so when you get all pink like that," I admitted.
"I hate it," she mumbled, ashamed of the involuntary reaction.
"Don't," I said firmly.
"Okay," she said quietly, though I could tell she was biting back some kind of snarky response. Her shyness was endearing, rather than infuriating, as I might have expected.
It hadn't escaped my notice that we'd spent most of our time together talking about me, or rather, I'd spent the afternoon lying through my teeth about who I was.
We'd been together in the meadow for nearly an hour and I hadn't had the urge to bite her. I wasn't going to let my guard down, but I was beginning to think I could be around her long enough to get to know her too.
I had all the time in the world to get her to open up to me. I just had to get her to trust me, and let myself trust her with my secrets. Until then, I was content with this limbo state we found ourselves in, not quite ready to attempt to bridge the chasm of unknown between us.
We spent the remaining time until the sun set in the overcast sky, talking about little, unimportant things, simply getting to know one another. It was hands down the best four hours of my existence.
The moment she left I was already anticipating the next day. It had been a while since I'd felt the fluttery stirrings of anticipation. I liked it. A lot.
xx
"Beautiful?" James snickered. "That's what's got you all bent out of shape? Some random human referred to you as beautiful in her mind?"
After returning to our rented cabin, I had told James that a human girl had referred to me in her thoughts as beautiful, wanting to get a second opinion. I should have known better than to ask for James'.
"What's so funny about that?" I growled, sitting on the opposite side of couch from James. He was watching some gangster movie on TV on fast-forward. "You don't think I'm beautiful, do you?"
Yes, his mind echoed. The barrier had slipped slightly as he cackled in mirth.
"Sorry, dude, I don't swing that way," he laughed. "But if I was a chick, I think, yes, you would be considered what we real men refer to as a 'pretty boy.'"
"Now I'm pretty?" I snarled. "You have got to be fucking kidding me! I might have, at a very long, uncomfortable stretch, been able to make my peace with everyone hopping on the 'Edward is beautiful' bandwagon, but pretty is taking it a step too fucking far. No way am I pretty."
"Sorry," James guffawed, not sounding apologetic in the least. "This is hilarious. Are you really trying to tell me you've never had a chick call you beautiful before? You're around humans all the time. You pass hundreds of them on a daily basis when you're in urban areas. You read their thoughts without even trying to. And no one has called you beautiful before? You're practically the poster child for pretty boys."
"I try to tune them out before they get all," I waved my hands around, unable to say the words, "you know."
"Horny for you?" James chortled. "This is classic. Wait until I tell Vic. You're bent out of shape about some chick lusting after you. No wonder you're such a prude."
"She was not lusting after me," I countered. "She just happened to think it in passing, when I walked by her on the street and it surprised me."
"I really don't get the big deal," James shrugged, "So some desperate girl wants to bump uglies with you. It's not like you've gotten any in decades. What's the harm?"
"Do you have to be so crude?" I spat in disgust. How Victoria could stand him, I had no clue. James and decency did not go together at all. Weren't women supposed to want to be adored and romanced? Victoria and James really were suited to one another, wild and insane as they both were.
"I'm just saying," James raised his hands in supposed surrender. "If you can't find any vamp loving, it wouldn't hurt to broaden your horizons. The incubus and succubus rumours exist for a reason. I've never met them, but supposedly the Denali sisters up in Alaska have been doing it for centuries. Seems like a perfect solution for a human-lover like you."
"You can't let it go, can you? Why do I even bother talking to you?" I wondered aloud. "It's like talking to a fucking wall. A really fucking stupid wall."
"You know me," James stated tactlessly. "I tell it as it is, little bro. If you want things sugarcoated, you'll have to talk to Vic. Why she coddles your ass, I'll never know."
I rolled my eyes. "Why do I get the feeling you're jealous? She's not my mother, dumbwad. I can assure you any and all coddling you perceive is unwanted, and further, unnecessary."
Victoria appeared as if summoned, returning from scouring the small town for god-knows what. I had a feeling I didn't want to know.
She settled into the sofa between us. "Jamie, you know I don't coddle. I just like to make sure my boys are taken care of. Edward here is our little breadwinner. You know his gift ensures our income. He deserves a break."
"Breadwinner?" I snorted. "Hear that James? I'm your sugar daddy."
"Don't be an ass about it, Edward. And don't provoke him." Victoria admonished. "You two love to get one another riled up, don't you? If I didn't know better I'd think you two were an old cranky mated couple."
We both scoffed.
"We'd be just fine without his thought stealing abilities, Vic, and you know it," James sneered. "Why you had to go drag him into our lives, I've not the faintest clue. We were fine, just the two of us. He's lucky we've put up with him for almost a century."
I snarled, infuriated. I had never asked for this. They were the ones who had changed me, and brought me into their lives, into their coven. They were the ones to suggest less than savory ways to use my gift for our benefit. I had gone along with them, but now, I wasn't sure why. I thought we had taken care of one another. It seemed like I was the only one putting any effort in.
"You are so full of shit, James," I countered, my anger simmering just below the surface. "You love that my mind-reading allows you to live comfortably. You love it when we go to a casino and walk around like we own the place, which I suppose we could, if you wanted to. You make all our decisions in this coven, leader. Why are we living here? Your choice. Why do we ever go anywhere? Because you said so."
"Well someone has to be trusted to make good decisions around here," he growled. "If we let you do it, we'd all be running around trying to play fucking Batman."
"Good thing that's not going to happen," I snapped. "We wouldn't want to inflict damage on people's retinas, something that would surely happen if they were forced to see you in spandex."
He merely glared, so I continued, adopting a more serious approach. "You are such a massive hypocrite. You love having control over my gift when it's beneficial to you. But when I try to do something useful with it, I'm wasting my time. Life isn't all about who has the most power. What you do with it is important, too; a concept clearly lost on you. You are the biggest power-monger I know. Why don't you try to overthrow the Volturi yourself? I bet you're stupid enough to think you could actually get away with it."
"Shut the fuck up about things you don't know about," he seethed. If it weren't for Victoria clutching his arm, I'm positive he would have pounced on me.
"I've lived with you for 87 years. I think I know plenty," I fumed in return. "Just because you don't like hearing it doesn't make it any less the truth."
James snarled at me, baring his teeth. Throwing Victoria's arm off, he flung himself at me. He was so infuriated that his mind barrier slipped. I heard his thoughts long before he actually pounced and was able to easily dodge him.
Fucking ungrateful little shithead, his thoughts growled, I'll fucking kill the little bastard. Victoria will get over it, she's my mate.
He lunged once more. Once again I heard his intention and was able to step out of his trajectory. He had thrown himself at me with such force that he was unable to stop, even with the split-second recovery time of a vampire and went tumbling through the dresser leaning against the opposite wall, leaving a shamble of wood in his wake.
The destruction only seemed to aggravate him further and he was on his feet in an instant. He'd carefully replaced his mind shield, but it was faulty. I could hear grumblings of his thoughts as it slid in and out of place.
…going to… dead… I will… him up… why Victoria ever… fucking car… he ruined my… who does… is… fuck!...
It was abundantly clear he wanted me dead, but his fucking car? I never ruined his damn car. I didn't know what the hell he was going on about. The moment of confusion afforded him a wide open shot.
The third time he lunged for me, he managed to catch my shin and send me careening to the nearby bed. The springs prevented me from doing much damage to the mattress, but the legs of the bed collapsed as the frame gave way under my considerable weight and the momentum of James' blow. The fall didn't hurt, but my leg stung like a bitch where he'd struck me.
I sprung up and settled into an offensive crouch, prepared to strike back. If the bastard thought I'd just lay there and take it, he was sadly mistaken.
I'd just landed a kick to his side, sending him across the room and back into the rubble that had once been the dresser when Victoria roared, "Enough!"
She settled in between us, her expression murderous. James and I both turned to her, startled. It was rare that she ever raised her voice. She was usually more of a quiet, slinky manipulator. I wasn't naïve enough to think she didn't wield a lot of the power in our coven through her bonded relationship with James, but her methods were usually much more understated.
"You two are acting like fucking children. Both of you shut the fuck up, and learn to live with one another. This is getting fucking ridiculous. Jamie, come with me," she said, already in the process of dragging him away, clutching his bicep. James glared at me, unable to restrain himself from hissing at me as they passed.
"We're going to go blow off some steam. Edward, I suggest you go find a way to moderate your temper, as well." Her words held the force of a command, and I narrowed my eyes, fed up with being ordered around.
In a flash she was gone, James with her. The front door to our little rented bungalow left open behind them. I could just make out their retreating backs, as they disappeared into the inky blackness of the forest under the cover of night.
I quickly strode in the opposite direction, where the sprawl of Seattle lay, having no intention of being anywhere in the vicinity of James or Victoria in the next few days. I'd live in the city until I decided what I wanted to do next.
xx
AN: Thank you all for continuing to read :) I'm now approaching 100 combined faves and alerts, which makes me very, very happy. I'm a little miffed that so few of you seem to want to review – I'm not scary, I promise! – but otherwise, I'm thrilled. I just want to hear what you think, hell, even suggestions. This story is plotted, but not rigidly, there's plenty of room for suggestions :) I run on feedback, and I'm getting a little downcast. You don't want me to look as grey as Forks, do you? Well, then, I think you know what to do…