I came back into awareness of myself, peaceful and euphoric.

In the next instant, however, I knew that I'd lost control. I swore that I would stay focused—that nothing would happen—and I had failed.

I froze in horror. What had I done in that one second? Was Bella alive, or had I ruined everything in a single moment?

What carnage would I see when I dared to look? Bella's torn body destroyed underneath me—my worst nightmare come true? With my lungs burning, I opened my eyes. The bed was in complete disarray. I'd destroyed several pillows in addition to the headboard and piles of feathers crowded around Bella's face.

But there she was, shuddering, sweaty, and smiling gloriously. I blinked, stunned. Bella was alive! I hadn't killed her!

I collapsed into her, shaking with silent sobs of relief. I buried my face in her hair.

"Edward," she breathed. "Thank you. That was perfect." She hugged me closer and kissed my shoulder. "I love you."

"Bella, Bella," I replied in wonder. My rage and panic faded in the ebbing waves of afterglow. "I love you."

We slowly pulled our sticky selves apart, separating what had seemed so fully joined. I rolled over, pulling Bella, now limp as a noodle, to settle on top of me.

She cooed my name and snuggled against me. Her breathing slowed. I wrapped my arms around her, feeling her heartbeat reverberate through my own aching chest.

That was the single most exhilarating, terrifying, magical experience of my century's existence. More than marrying Bella; even more than tasting her blood. I had made love to my wife on our honeymoon without destroying her. It was nothing short of a miracle.

The sound of Bella's breathing was like a gift. I kissed the top of her head, thanking God, the universe, whatever and whoever, for Bella. The impossible had happened.

She was my savior. She had changed me into the man I always wanted to become but thought that I couldn't. I'd never felt so satisfied, and I sunk deeper into the soporific joy still flooding my limbs.

The decades of anguish, of being alone for so long seemed like a distant memory. I loved my family, but it had been hard to hear their thoughts and watch their expressions of companionship when there was no one with whom I could share such feelings. That is, until now. Bella was my soul mate, my angel. She was the one shining beacon in my long, long life and the only thing that truly mattered to me anymore. I couldn't live without her.

I shook my head in amazement. How was it possible that making love had made our close connection even deeper?

I wanted to spend eternity with Bella, and to give her a second honeymoon without fear or restraint. But for now, I was content to watch her breathe, to feel her heart, to smell her delicious aroma on my skin. She was my perfect, human wife.

Bella stifled a yawn. The long day of travel and the stress of our consummation had finally caught up with her, now that the endorphins had worn out. Emmett had warned me that we'd be up all night on our honeymoon, but Bella was still human. Besides exhausted, she was probably tender, given that it was her first time.

I gently rubbed Bella's back, humming her lullaby in her ear. She sighed contentedly, sliding off me to settle against my side with her head on my chest. She apparently hadn't noticed the feathers sticking in her hair, but I didn't bother picking them out. I would get them in the morning.

Carlisle had assured me that the negligible amount of venom in my system wasn't enough to change her. I couldn't shake all of my worries, though Bella didn't act as though anything was wrong. I intended to keep my nightly vigil, watching her sleep, in case she started to turn.

Bella whispered a final "I love you, Edward." A few moments later, she fell asleep.

"My Bella, my wife," I murmured into her hair. "I love you, too."

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