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Chapter 9
"I need to tell you the truth."
I could feel his hands, they were so cold…even colder than mine. And it was cold outside, freezing actually. I looked down at him, his eyes, and his icy hands that were holding mine…I knew he was different, but I also knew that I didn't care. And I knew this felt right and for some reason that was beyond me, I knew that he wouldn't hurt me. So I whispered, "Okay."
He stood up, lifting my hands and pulling me with him as he did. He looked tentative, scared – and I couldn't help but wonder what he was scared of. It was as if our roles were reversed.
"Are you sure, Bella?"
I didn't know exactly what he meant or what his question held, I only knew that I was. I was sure I needed to know what his truth was – and in that moment – I was sure of him.
"Yes, Edward," I said. "I am."
He let go of one of my hands, still holding the other one reverently as I led him into my house. It was dark inside. I'd never turned the lights on in my frantic rush when I'd returned home. It dawned on me that I was standing in the dark with a man that may or may not have been dead. I was oddly calmed by the fact that his hand was still holding mine and it felt right and so fucking good as I laced my fingers with his. I heard him gasp softly at the movement and I gave him a gentle squeeze, trying to ignore the hard and almost granite texture.
He was different from me.
But he was real.
I reached over to the wall and flipped on the light switch. It turned on the lamp that was standing in the corner, casting a warm and golden glow over the room. It didn't escape me, that it was the first time I'd been in a room with him where there was light. And it was my turn to be scared as I lifted my eyes and really looked at him – in the light – for the first time.
And the sight of him took my breath away.
Edward was beautiful.
Not just beautiful, but flawless. His skin looked smooth and was completely unblemished. The line of his jaw was angled in a way that was reminiscent of classic works of art. His lips looked soft, the bottom one slightly fuller than the top. And even though I could still feel the chill of the night, my face and body flushed as unbidden, images flickered in my mind of them kissing me, caressing my skin…my breasts…the hot and secret part of me that suddenly clenched at the vivid recollection of how they felt moving against me. I was overcome with the knowledge that all of it had really happened. I looked down, suddenly embarrassed and his hand reached out and touched my chin, pulling my eyes up, so that I was looking into his eyes.
"What's wrong?" he asked, his voice soft and smooth and wrapping around me. "Bella?"
I wanted to answer him – truly, I did – but I was overcome with the sight of his obsidian eyes gazing intently into my own. They were wide and deep and haunted…and they were truly and purely ebony, sharp like the keys of a piano. They were so black, in fact, that I couldn't distinguish his iris from his pupil.
"Bella?" he asked again.
"I…I'm sorry," I stammered. "It's just…you're just…"
"What?" he whispered.
"Edward," I said, feeling the gentle sweep of his thumb against my chin. "Edward, you're beautiful."
His movement stilled and there was no sound, as I saw a fleeting look of pain cross his face. He touched my cheek softly and the cool of his hand felt good against my heated skin.
"You're wrong," he said, his voice thick and low. "I'm not beautiful. I'm not beautiful at all."
"You are," I insisted.
"You don't," he said, harder this time. "You don't see the real me…who I am, Bella…what I am."
I leaned my face into his hand, fully. His touch was so gentle and I knew I should be afraid…that everything about him was screaming that I should, but there was something there between us –something about him that my body and soul instinctually trusted. It was confusing and yes…a part of it was scary, but it was the kind electrifying scary that I felt before I did something exciting like cliff diving. And it might have been reckless, but I knew I needed to jump.
"Then tell me," I urged him. "Show me who you are, Edward. I want to know. I want to know you."
He sighed, loudly, stroking my cheek one more time before dropping his hand. I missed his touch immediately, but took comfort in the fact that he was still holding my hand.
"Maybe you…I mean we," he said. "Maybe we should sit down."
Sitting down.
Right.
Something told me that sitting down probably wouldn't make what he was about to say any less difficult to take, but I will willing to sit if it meant that he would still remain close to me. And just the thought of that eased me because I knew that on some level, it didn't matter what he'd say…because I still wanted him there.
Beside me.
With me.
I led him to the couch – the same couch where I'd sat with Jacob that morning – the same couch where I couldn't get him out of my mind. I'd thought he was a dream then. I thought he was this perfect and erotic fantasy I'd created in my mind, after a night with one too many cocktails and some unexplainable supernatural occurrence that I wasn't absolutely positive was real either. Even though, a part of me knew that there was no way it could have been fabricated.
Once we were seated I drew in a shaky breath. My nerves had settled somewhat, but my body still tingled with the remaining stress of the night and the powerful and almost delicious anticipation that he was there…and he was going to share himself with me.
And I wanted him to share so much.
"Are you okay?" he asked. "Bella, I need to know that you're okay."
The sound of his voice was as beautiful as my memory. There was something almost melodic about the tone, something just shy of entrancing…hypnotic. It was as if I were to sit there and listen to him long enough, he'd make me want to share all my secrets. Bare myself.
And I had.
I'd bared myself to him.
Maybe not in the sense that I had shared my secrets, but I had been more intimate with him than almost anyone. I had been naked with him in my bed. He had touched and explored me and I had felt his skin under my hands, under my body. And I couldn't get the images out of my mind.
"Bella?"
His question pulled me from my thoughts that honestly, felt more like fantasies. I knew I was blushing and I wondered if he could tell what I was thinking.
"Umm…yeah," I said. "No, yeah…I'm okay."
His brow furrowed as he looked at me and I wondered what he was thinking. His eyebrows were full, but not bushy, shaped but not sculpted. And as I looked at him, I noticed that there were elements of Edward that were almost unreal – too perfect to be real. While this made me question what he really was, it also made me self-conscious about my own physical attributes. I felt so plain…so ordinary. His expression softened as his eyes dropped down to our joined hands. He lifted my hand, staring at it – examining it. I could feel the gentle pressure of his thumb against my palm.
"You're so soft," he said, breaking the short silence that had settled between us. "And delicate…and warm."
"You're not," I told him. It was mostly an observation, but as I looked at him and my words sunk in, I realized that I didn't think my observation was completely accurate. "No. I'm wrong."
His eyes met mine.
"You were right," he whispered. "I'm cold and hard and…different from you. In so many ways, Bella."
I could feel his cold, hard skin. There was no denying that he was different. But there was something about Edward that was delicate. Something fracturable – something that was quite possibly, already broken.
"Tell me," I whispered. "Tell me how…tell me why you're different."
My heartbeat spiked as I thought about the fact that he communicated with me through the Ouija board. It wasn't possible that he was dead…that he was a spirit. I was touching him. He was there, physically in front of me. I could feel him. And even though he felt different – he was definitely real.
"You're right to be scared," he said.
"How do you know I'm scared?"
I was.
"I can hear it…feel it," he said solemnly. "Your heartbeat."
He looked at me, his smile sad.
"You can feel my heartbeat?" I repeated. "You can hear it?"
"Yes."
"How?"
"My senses," he said. "They're…heightened."
"I don't understand," I whispered. And I didn't. I didn't understand any of it. "Heightened how?"
"Right now," he whispered, bringing one of his hands to my chest and placing against my heart. "Right now your heartbeat is elevated; it's beating rapidly, though it's steady. You have a heart murmur. Did you know that?"
My eyes widened…and I gasped.
"How did…how…" I was shocked. "How did you know that?"
I did have a heart murmur. They discovered it when I was a child. It wasn't supposed to be a big deal. It was something that was fairly common…benign, the doctor said.
"I can feel the murmur," he said. "It's very faint. Though, right now…your…your blood," he breathed in deeply, "your blood is circulating much faster than it would be normally. That's indicative of fear."
"I'm not afraid," I lied, trying to wrap my mind around what he was saying.
He looked at me and I could tell that he knew I was lying.
"Of you," I added. "I'm not afraid of you."
And that was the truth.
"You should be," he said. "Of all the things that you should be afraid of, I am at the top of the list."
"Why?" I whispered. "Is it because…" I stopped, not sure I really wanted to ask the question that was positioned on the tip of my tongue.
"What?" he whispered. "What were you going to ask?"
His palm was still on my heart, the feel of it was soothing for reasons that I couldn't explain…even to myself.
"I'm sorry," he said, pulling it away.
I stopped him with both of my hands, pulling him back to my chest.
"Don't," I said. "I liked it. I – I like it. Please don't pull away from me."
His gaze was intense and as I looked into his dark eyes, I could see that he was scared. I didn't have any special abilities. I couldn't hear his heart or feel his blood…but I knew fear when I saw it. And Edward was scared. Just as scared as me.
Maybe more.
"What were you going to ask?" he said. "Before. You stopped. What did you want to ask me?"
I had to think about it…had to try to remember. Everything about him made me lose my train of thought. Everything about him pulled me in deeper, made me want to be…closer. I closed my eyes, hoping that the absence of his beauty would help me focus.
The silence between us hovered.
Even I could hear my heart beating.
"The Ouija board," I finally whispered. "You communicated with me…spoke to me…on the board."
"Yes," he said simply.
"How did you do that?" I asked. "How did you…how could it…? It moved."
My lips were dry and I instinctively licked them. And then I opened my eyes. He was looking at my mouth.
Drier.
Now they were even drier.
"I don't know how that happened," he said. "I didn't…I mean I don't…I still don't understand that."
I swallowed thickly, my tongue felt large and foreign in my mouth.
"But it did happen," I whispered, looking more for his confirmation than my own acknowledgment. "The planchette moved."
"Yes," he said, his voice low. "It did happen. Bella, you're not crazy."
At his words, I felt tears fill my eyes and spill hotly down my cheeks. I didn't know if it was the relief that I hadn't lost my mind, or if it was the overwhelming emotion that was consuming me from having him so close.
There with me and talking.
Answering my questions.
"How?" I whispered, wanting to wipe my face, but not wanting to let go of his hand that I was clutching to my chest. "Are you, Edward? Are you dead? Are you a ghost?"
"No, Bella," he said. "I'm not a ghost. I'm…I'm worse."
He reached up and wiped the tears that were still running down my cheeks. The chill of his hand was soothing, calming. I sighed and closed my eyes, trying to ignore the fact that he said he was something worse than a spirit…something worse than dead. Because – in that moment – it didn't matter what he was. It only mattered that he was there. And regardless of what he was, he offered me comfort. And I knew that he wouldn't hurt me.
"Why are you doing this?" he asked. "I don't…I don't understand."
"What?" I asked, leaning into his palm.
"Why are you letting me touch you?" he asked, his voice frustrated but gentle. "Why do you keep letting me touch you?"
"I don't know," I said, opening my eyes and staring into his.
"No," he said. "You don't. You don't, and when you do…it will be like it was before. It will be like it was when you looked at me in your room tonight. When you were scared…and you should be scared of me, Bella."
"I'm not scared of you," I insisted.
He laughed. It sounded dark…tortured. Like his eyes. And I wanted to know what made him that way. I wanted to know what made this beautiful man feel as if he were unworthy to touch me. I was nothing special. But he definitely was. I just didn't know how.
"You have no sense of self-preservation," he told me. "None at all. I've never met anyone so trusting, so willing to just… Fuck!"
His voice was hard. Even more anguished than before. I felt the need to throw my arms around him and I knew that was crazy – that maybe he was right. But I also knew that I didn't care. Something about him called to me…pulled me in. It made me want to know him…to hold him…to touch him. Not just physically, but emotionally.
"Willing to what?" I asked him.
"Willing to allow yourself to be placed in a dangerous situation," he said. "Bella…I'm dangerous."
His words should have scared me, but they didn't.
"How are you dangerous?" I asked him, my tone more challenging that it probably should have been for someone who just told me they were dangerous. "Are you going to hurt me?"
"I could hurt you very easily," he said. "Too easily."
The last part was whispered – almost as if it were more of an afterthought to him than to me. His eyes grew even sadder…even more pained. And I couldn't understand the dichotomy that he was presenting himself to be.
The man that was cold, yet caused me to flush.
The man that said he could hurt me, yet was touching me so gently that it almost caused my heart to break a little.
"That's not what I asked you," I maintained.
"What do you mean?"
"I asked you if you were going to hurt me," I said, louder this time. "Not if you could hurt me. There's a really big difference in those two questions, Edward."
I looked at him and still, he said nothing.
"It doesn't feel like you will hurt me," I said, my voice becoming thick with my emotion. "It didn't feel…it didn't feel like you would hurt me last night."
I squeezed his hand that was still on my chest as I thought about the way he'd touched me. The way he made me feel. It was the closest I'd ever come to making love and we hadn't even had sex. It was far more intimate than any sex I'd ever had.
I knew my heart was pounding and I knew that he could hear or feel it, too. I still didn't understand that, but I pushed it from my mind. There was a lot I didn't understand, but I could feel him pulling away and just the thought of that seemed more painful than anything I could imagine. Even if I didn't understand why.
"Will you?" I asked again. "Will you hurt me, Edward?"
"I could."
His voice was so low, I could barely hear it.
"Stop that," I asserted. "Stop doing that. You know what I'm asking you. Will. You. Hurt. Me?"
I was grasping his hand so tightly that I wondered if I was hurting him. If I was, he showed no evidence of pain on his face. He looked at me intently, determinedly. And I refused to break his gaze.
"Never," he rasped. "Bella, I would never hurt you."
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"I know."
His eyes flashed with something, some spark, some incandescent glimmer of…something that looked like hope. And in his eyes that had been so bleak – so fucking pained and dejected – that even the idea of hope caused something inside me to bubble up and spill out.
Before I could stop myself, I tried to pull him to me, wanting to feel his lips on mine. He didn't budge. It felt as if I was trying to move something that was more unmovable than a mountain. And I couldn't understand that was possible.
"No," he whispered. "Bella, you don't want this…you can't…you can't want me."
"You don't know what I want."
His face registered something…some knowledge or recognition. And I could tell that he was breaking…crumbling just like me. The need to give into whatever this was between us. And even if we didn't understand it completely – or at all, for that matter – we understood its inevitability.
"Please," I said. "Edward, please."
Still clinging to him, I decided that I would bridge the distance, but before I could…he came. He came to me with a groan that was far more desperate and sexy than anything I had ever known. His mouth covered mine and I moved my lips against his, opening them and whimpering into his mouth. His breath was wintery and it tingled as I sucked it in…needing him…tasting him. And he tasted so good – like clover honey and chamomile tea. His lips were rigid yet fluid in their movement, teasing and giving all at the same time. I brought my hands to his face, drawing him closer as he pulled on my bottom lip, surrounding it in gentle suction.
His kisses making me bolder, I raised up on my knees, swinging one of my legs over him and settling myself on his lap. This caused him to groan louder and only served to fill me with more desire, more passion and need than before. I moved my lips across his cheek and he buried his face in my neck.
"You're so warm," he whispered. "You're so fucking warm."
My hands were in his hair, feeling the silky texture as it ran through my fingers. His hands settled on my hips, right at the small of my back, and I could feel him gripping the cotton of my shirt in his hands. And all I could think about was that I wanted it to be me. I wanted him to grab me – wanted him to touch me – to take me the way he had the night before.
"Please," I whispered in his ear, before biting down on his lobe. "Please…don't stop."
I pushed myself against him, feeling him hard between us, and it was only further proof…further validation that all of this was real. That he had been there with me the night before. That he was actually there with me now. I pressed myself against him again…and then again…and then once more until I found that I was grinding myself fully against him. His whimpers and cries only served to arouse me more and triggered my need to feel even more of him.
I wanted to feel all of him.
"You…we…fuck, we need to stop," he rasped, his voice husky and broken.
"Don't," I said. "Please don't stop."
"It's too hard," he said. "I can't…I just can't when you…when you don't know."
My heart was pounding, every nerve in my body alive and deliciously on edge with my desire…my desire for him. I could feel the whooshing in my ears as my blood pumped furiously through my veins. And then I knew. I fucking knew that it didn't matter. Nothing mattered but him…but me…but us.
"I don't care," I told him, grabbing his face and looking into his eyes. "Don't you see?" I cried. "Don't you know? Can't you fucking tell? It doesn't matter who you are…what you think you are, Edward! I can feel you! I know that you're here…that you…that you're supposed to be here."
"No!" he cried, his voice louder than it ever had been. "You don't know. You don't fucking know! You only know what you want to believe! You only see the illusion of the man…and not the fucking monster that I am, Bella!"
His words were like a slap and even though I flinched away from the acidic hatred in his voice, I refused to let go of him. I knew that it wasn't about me. It was about him. He thought he was a monster.
But he wasn't.
I knew that he wasn't.
"Then tell me," I demanded. "Tell me, Edward. Tell me why. Tell me…tell me how. Because I don't see it. I don't feel it. Don't you think that this is all supposed to mean something?"
I was crying then, hating myself for feeling weak and knowing I needed to be strong for reasons I didn't understand. He had to feel this pull between us. It was why he was here. It was why he'd come back.
"Please don't cry, Bella," he whispered. "I'm always fucking making you cry."
"Tell me who you are," I said. "Tell me. Tell me and allow me to make my own decision. Don't run away. Don't hide from me. Don't hide from me because I've seen you. I see you. And Edward…Edward, I want to know you. And for the first time in my whole fucked up life…I want someone to really know me, too."
"Your words are too much," he whispered. "It's you words and your mind and your body and your blood."
"What do you mean?"
Nothing.
"What do you mean, Edward?"
Still nothing.
"Please, talk to me," I whispered. "You told me that you'd tell me the truth."
The intensity in his eyes scared me, but I refused to show it. I didn't care if he could hear my heart…didn't care how he could hear my heart. He was going to talk to me, and I refused to let him run away again.
"I can't hear you," he finally said. "I can't hear you and your words are too much."
"What do you mean my words are too much?" I asked, something tickling in the back of my mind, telling me that I was focusing on the wrong thing.
"You can't mean them," he said sadly. "You can't mean what you're saying and I can't know if you're telling the truth."
"How would you know?" I asked, my voice small.
He sighed loudly, reaching up to touch my cheek again. My eyes closed in a silent prayer that he would never stop.
"Bella," he whispered. "I can…I can hear other people's thoughts."
"Like a mind-reader?" I asked.
"Yes."
My mind flipped and spun with that knowledge and immediately, I wondered if he could hear what I was thinking. But then I remembered that he said that he couldn't. Suddenly it all began to make sense, but then I realized that nothing really made sense at all.
"And you…can you…can you hear mine?"
"No."
"You c-can't hear me?" I asked, my voice shaking.
"No," he whispered. "I can't."
"And what?" I asked. "You don't believe me?"
I felt his thumb reach across and stroke my bottom lip. It trembled from his touch…or the cold. I wasn't really sure anymore. My eyes searched his, wanting an answer, but needing to know so much more than he was telling me. And without thinking, I gently kissed the tip of his thumb, causing him to gasp.
"I want to," he said. "I really fucking want to."
"Then it looks like you're going to have to trust me."
"What if you can't trust me?" he asked. "What if…when you know the truth…what if you can't trust me?"
His voice was so vulnerable…so unsettled and soft. He looked just like I felt and I couldn't bear it anymore. I couldn't bear the distance and I couldn't bear the pain. So, I did the only thing I could, reaching out and hugging him, pulling him close and pressing myself against him completely. He didn't hug me back, but I didn't care. Something told me that he needed me to show him, so I clung to him and gave him the only thing I had.
"Do you have more secrets?" I whispered in his ear.
I felt his arms finally wrap around me, enveloping me with a warmth that far surpassed the frigidness of his body.
"Yes."
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"That's okay," I breathed. "I have secrets, too."
I don't know how long we sat there…just wrapped up in one another. His arms wrapped around me while my head rested on his shoulder. Minutes, hours…it didn't matter.
Time wasn't important.
He was important.
My body began to chill to the point that I was trembling. I tried to ignore it because I was frightened of what it might mean. Edward noticed, though, and pulled the quilt from the back of the couch and covered me up, looking at me apologetically before pulling me back into his arms.
"I'm so sorry, Bella," he murmured. "I'm just…I'm sorry."
"It's okay," I whispered, pressing a kiss against his neck. "Everything's going to be okay."
A shudder ran though my body as I began to warm up and Edward pulled me even closer, kissing me on my temple.
"There's one more thing," he whispered. "One more thing that I want to…that I have to tell you."
I tried to pull back to look at him, the sadness and apprehension in his voice making me nervous.
"Edward, you can tell me anything," I said softly, but clearly. "Anything."
"I'm not really scared of anything, Bella," he said. "There's nothing in the word that makes me afraid."
He laughed and the sound of it was tight…bitter.
"That's not true," he continued, looking at me softly. "Now. It's not true now."
"Why are you scared?"
"I'm scared that this…my truth," he whispered, "this is going to be the one thing that I tell you, that will finally make you run."
"I'm not going anywhere, Edward," I told him fiercely. "Don't you know that yet?"
"I'm afraid that you will never look at me like this," he said, dragging his thumb across my lips, my cheek. "I'm scared that you'll never look at me like this again."
"How am I looking at you?"
"Like I'm something," he said. "Like I'm someone."
I reached up and pulled his face to mine, kissing him softly. I couldn't help the whimper that escaped my lips as I cried into his mouth. He was so sad and scared and all I wanted to do was make him understand that it wouldn't matter – whatever it was – it wouldn't matter a fucking bit. I finally pulled back, licking my lips and still tasting him on my tongue.
"Tell me," I whispered. "Tell me and let me show you that you are, Edward. You're the most important 'someone' ever. Whatever you tell me won't change that. And neither will the way I look at you."
He looked at me for the longest time, his expression scared and unchanging. And even though I was terrified of what he was going to say…I still knew that it wouldn't change anything. So, I held his gaze, matching his fear with every bit of the emotion that I felt for him…and hoping that it would be enough.
"Bella, I'm…"
The ringing of my phone startled me and caused me to jump in his arms.
"Ignore it," I whispered. "It's late and no one should be calling me at this hour anyway."
He waited for the ringing to stop and just as soon as it did, it started ringing again. My mind immediately went to Jacob, as much as I hated it. I was hoping that nothing happened.
"Maybe you should get that," he said tentatively. "It doesn't seem like it's going to stop."
And it didn't. It continued ringing again, as if whoever was calling was just hitting redial whenever it went to voicemail.
I crawled off of his lap and went to the foyer to get my phone.
It was Rose.
I hit the call button as soon as I saw her name, an unexplainable panic rising up inside of me.
"Bella!" she exclaimed. "Is Alice with you?"
She sounded worried, frantic.
"No, she isn't," I said. "Why?"
"She's missing, Bella. Alice is fucking missing!"
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A/N
Reviews are love.
Please leave me some.
Thank you to my beta and partner, Marvar. You single-handedly made this chapter better. So, thank you. For always being honest…and for saying what you think. Even when it might hurt my feelings.
Love and thanks to my pre-readers, Caren (Nerac), rainamd, and ltlerthqak!
Thank you to each and every person reading! You guys make this so fulfilling. And adore each review, tweet and recc.
My recc this week:
Tunes with Tony Masen by Just4ALE:
So a few weeks ago, Marvar says to me, "You need to read this fic right now." Well, I put it off, because I'm a slacker. Anyway, on Sunday I read it. And it consumed my entire day! For real. I couldn't stop reading. It's a great mystery and one of the most intriguing and unique stories I've ever read. Really. It's brilliant. Check it out and leave her some love.