Chapter 12
Unnatural Observations
She sleeps against me. I listen to her heart and her breathing and even the digestion going on in her stomach. I am sure she has no idea how acute my hearing is or she would not have made such confessions to Carlisle. I feel almost guilty to not only know how much she desires me, but I also know her fears. I am sure she has no idea how close I came to tearing him apart for even daring to touch her. He was mere seconds from my attack when he released her.
Of course I hope he does not know the extent of my fear over such a confrontation. I suspect Carlisle has figured out our secret; and perhaps his son Edward knows as well with his amazing power. The ancients – those of us who have been around for more than a thousand years – guard this secret .
The Volturi gave much away with their visit to the Cullen's. The sheer numbers they brought with them should have been enough to tip off someone like Carlisle. And most telling was the way Renata hovered so close to Aro. But also it was in the way Caius wanted to attack first without asking questions or waiting for explanations. It was in the way their wives hung back, so far away as to be protected by their distance and their status as non-combatants. I am sure everyone understood that they wanted a show of strength and wanted to come from a position of overwhelming odds. But I know that there is more to it than a desire for shock and awe.
I see the reason when I look at Vladmir – indeed when I look at myself. We are not just older than most, we are decaying. Of course we are not like humans who will grow old and feeble before dying and rotting. I am still stronger than any human just like always. But like the great ruins in Egypt, we are being whittled away by time. I avoid looking at my reflection. I see the luster has gone out of my eyes and that my skin has a powdery translucence, like delicate rice paper. It is more than just in my looks though, but also in the trance we now fall into that mimics sleep. It is in the way I no longer need to feed but twice a month. It is in the way my memory keeps losing the details, like a piece of intricately carved woodwork that has been painted so many times the fine detail is lost. And even though I know I could live a few thousand years longer, I wonder what those years will be like.
I wonder if Carlisle has guessed that if we fight, he will win. I have battled countless immortals and humans through dozens of lifetimes. I have lead armies, trained in every fighting style, and defeated fields of enemies, and yet I know that I will not be able to win a fight with the pacifistic Carlisle Cullen.
It is not weakness specifically, but a vitality that has been lost through time, and we all suffer it. Like stone that has weathered for centuries while the elements leech minerals out of it leaving it porous and brittle. We are brittle. We are breaking down, not from the elements, but under the affects of time. We have seen it all and done it all and there is nothing left to amuse us, entertain us, or interest us, no matter how hard we try. The elasticity of growth and renewal have disappeared and I have become like a snake that cannot shed it's skin.
I recognized it strongly in Marcus, in what looks like his eternal boredom. Perhaps without his wife he is more vulnerable to this break down than the others. I suspect that he will reach a point and just disappear. Vladmir tells of those he knew long ago who are no more. He recounted to me how one ancient leaped laughing into an active volcano and was incinerated. Others he knew just disappeared without a trace. In some ways I wonder if 'ashes to ashes, dust to dust' applies to mankind and our kind universally.
We know we can become ashes, but I believe we can also become dust. I am on my way to becoming dust and I fear what a fight with Carlisle could do to me. More than that I fear what would happen to her if Carlisle defeated me and earned her as his prize. Given fully to the rage and blood lust, I doubt even Carlisle could stop himself from feeding on her enticing essence.
But for now I am glad I am ancient. I can hold her and resist the temptation to kill her. Still, just as I think I am getting better at resisting her, she moves against me, turning her back to me she mumbles my name in her sleep. I lie on my side and pull her against me in the 'spooning' position. I forget how stupid this is for me to do when I am again hit by her scent, her warmth, and the tenderness at the nape of her neck, and the only place to rest my hand is on her body. It is a delicious torture and I force myself to remain calm and still, least I give Carlisle a reason to intervene.
Throughout the night every time she turns I am forced to readjust to her proximity anew. I notice the telltale signs of the approaching sunrise in the way my eyes adjust to the outlines throughout the room. One last turn has brought her once again into my arms and I am stimulated by the perfume of her morning breath. I could liken it to the smell of fresh rich earth from a garden; so full of life and mystery; so totally human and organic. I grin to myself. What is next to explore on my human? Would I sniff her underarms? Touch her excrement? Taste her assorted fluids? The thought makes me realize the potential extremes of my depravity. Why suddenly am I enamored of all things human? Have I become so old I am now simply playing with my food?
No, she will not feed me! I realize with the thought my arms have tightened around her and I have to constrain myself. In the light of the breaking dawn I can see her clearly. The way her hair falls across her face, delicate strands catching in the sticky moisture of her lips. I watch the steady rise and fall of her chest, and I note that in her tossing her gown has ridden up to the top of her thighs. I pull the blanket to cover her and try futilely to banish the image from my mind.
I am memorizing the angles and planes of her face when she wakes up. To see her startled blue eyes gazing at me is worth all the torment of the night. For long moments we stare at one another unmoving. When she finally moves it is to trail her fingertips down my face as she whispers, "you stayed with me." I find myself smiling at her. It reminds me that I have smiled and laughed more in the last couple days than I have in years. Even seeing the Volturi bested by the Cullens did not make me feel as light as I have been feeling.
"Good morning Summer." I have no fancy words for her. I should have something more eloquent to say after the intimacy we have shared. Yes, it is intimate in a way that kissing her is not. When I kiss her there is passion and fire and desire. But when she sleeps there is surrender and trust, and it overwhelms me that she has placed herself totally in my care. "Did you sleep well?" I wonder what her experience has been even though she likely will not remember.
Her smile is lovely and she kisses my chin softly. "You're cold and hard...but I still like you being with me. You make me feel so secure and safe, I felt you next to me all night, and I know I dreamed about you. It wasn't like the nightmares before, but sweet. I wish I could remember."
She pushes me gently onto my back and then lies on my chest. "You actually remind me of a good memory. Years ago someone gave my dad a waterbed they no longer wanted. We though it would help him with some of his earlier symptoms so we spent the day assembling the frame and filling it with a hose. Once it was full it felt wonderful, but the heater didn't work...or maybe the friend forgot to give it to us, I'm not sure." She smiles, and all her little movements are distracting me.
"Even in the heat of Southern California it was barely any warmer by evening. We decided to sleep the first night together on the waterbed, since I was crazy about the idea. We covered the mattress with layers of towels to absorb any condensation and then made up the bed with blankets and sheets. It was easy to fall asleep on the gently moving surface, but we should have waited since it was so cold the water just stole all the heat from our bodies as we slept. We both woke up stiff and chilled clear through. It made me feel glad to let dad have the waterbed since I'd had my fill of it. And it was good for him once he got a working heater for it."
I want to apologize to her for being cold and hard, but she has slid down and now rests her head against my chest. "I just want to hear for myself...your heart really isn't beating. You really are the living dead!" She sounds almost delighted and I can't understand why. She reaches out and takes hold of my hand, examining my fingers, the nails and the way they move. "Tell me about it...what's it like to be you? You said you can carve stone with your fingertips, and yet they're soft to touch." She kisses each one as she examines me. "Do you get hangnails? Do you need manicures? Does your hair grow? Do you sweat? Do you get tired? Do you have bad hair days? What about shaving? Can you eat? Do you need to brush your teeth?"
I am suddenly laughing at all of her questions. It seems she is as curious about me as I am of her. "No, no, yes, no, no, and sometimes, I answer her as she laughs. It is more delightful than a symphony, her laughter.
"Stefan! I'm serious. I really want to know." She looks down on me and kisses my chin. "How is your face so smooth?" She rubs her face against mine while her hand strokes my cheek.
"My – our hair grows slowly – very slowly. Of course the individual hair doesn't fall out on it's own either. It makes most of us reluctant to cut the hair we do have since a bad haircut can last a very long time. I have no facial hair because I grew frustrated with shaving; the beard would quickly dull the blade, so I plucked each strand out, and it never came back." She laughs when I tell her this, obviously thinking I am teasing her. "I am telling you the truth. I could not make up something so ridiculous!"
She runs her hand along my chin again. "I really like it, I don't get scratched when I'm close to you."
I laugh softly. "My dove, you do not need to worry about getting scratched, only getting bitten." Her warm laughter is overpowering in it's simplicity. I close my eyes just to absorb the sound, desperate to commit everything about this golden moment to memory. The way her hair falls softly against my face, shoulders and neck as she raises up to look down on me. The smells of her shampoo and the warmth of her own sweetness. I never knew warmth had a scent. Her breath is soaked in the myriad flavors of all she has eaten combined with her saliva and fermented like fine wine in her delicious mouth.
The feel of her is so captivating, that if I concentrate on her for too long I will surely lose control. I am sorry for doubting the saleswoman who recommended the rose colored night gown she wears. I almost allowed my insistence on natural fabrics to reject the soft synthetic material which alternately hugs and slides along her curves. With her body weighing on top of me, my hands trace along her as lightly as I possibly can and still be touching her. It is an exercise in restraint as my fingers register the slight chills that ripple across her skin at the contact.
"What about food? I mean can you eat any real food?" Her words snap me out of my thoughts and I smile wickedly up at her.
"Tell me what is more 'real' than what I consume? I can swallow food and drink like you, but one way or another it must come out, and it does not digest. I do enjoy the textures of some foods and sometimes hold them in my mouth. But truly my taste buds have refine themselves to the different nuances of my own diet. There are so many flavors in blood, you would be amazed. I also enjoy the taste of living skin and other tissues." She rests close enough I quickly wrap my arms around her, holding her still while I taste her as I describe. I trace my tongue along her neck and up to her chin. She gasps and her mouth delicately opens and I touch my tongue to her bottom lip. Her heart races as I close my eyes savoring the flavor of her perfect skin.
I open my eyes to see her staring down at me with a hunger I do not often see outside of our kind. "Summer..." She kisses me then, crushing her mouth onto mine as her own tongue seeks to connect with mine and her hands are warm clutching both sides of my face. I can see that I have been wrong about tasting only blood because I taste her mouth and it is a feast of flavors. I cannot get enough!
She moves quickly for a human, shrugging off the blankets as she throws her leg over my hips to straddle me. I watch her transfixed, feeling our bodies separated by the thinnest barriers of fabric. She leans down, pressing her chest against mine and kissing me without reservations. My hands slide over the gossamer fabric, taking in her delicate curves and tender soft flesh. I am aware that women of this age are bold almost to the point of wantonness, but to see and feel such ardor takes me by surprise. Not only do her actions make me clearly aware of her desires, but a new scent is in the air and I am shocked when I recognize the tangy musk of her arousal!
A low snarl escapes me and I am impatient for her human seduction. I flip her onto her back and stare down into her ravenous, rapturous blue eyes. Soft, warm, willing, and alive; she is mine! I determine to have her...to have her now. The tearing of fabric precedes her squeals. Her heart hammers against me through her chest and I force myself to slow down and pull back so I don't hurt her. I touch her and her body strains up, arching to meet mine. Her arms are around me and her fingers twine into my hair as she pulls my head down to hers for our lips to meet. I want this woman! I need this woman! I look down into her eyes, my still body posing a silent question to her.
We gaze hungrily into one another's eyes for long seconds and the magnetism between us is unbearably strong. She closes her eyes briefly before moving against me slightly, whispering…. moaning the answer to my question, "yes Stefan."
The noise is barely a distraction. In fact she notices long before I do as my hands have me overcome with their explorations of her body. She is struggling to pull away from me and I wonder why she is fighting me on something she wanted just seconds ago. And still the annoying noise is pecking at my brain like a swarm of angry bees.
"Stefan! Stefan stop!" Her words are like ice water and I struggle to obey her commands as I am determined to give in to her wishes. But I feel like a runaway train on a greased track with the brakes screaming ineffectually to stop. I register the noise is flesh on glass; hard, inhuman flesh banging on plexi-glass with nearly enough force to shatter it. A hand hammering to create a noise that should pull me back from the brink of... delirium and ecstasy. Finally the brakes catch and my runaway purpose is halted. I peer dazed down at her as she struggles in vain to move from beneath me. "I'm sorry...we have an audience," she gasps.
Carlisle is standing on the other side of the glass where he has been banging on the wall to stop me from ….from the very actions to which my mind and body were completely committed. I fight to regain control, then roll off of my – my woman – oh yes there is no denying she is mine. I watch her skitter away from me reaching for the blankets to pull over her. I realize her nightgown is in tatters and leaving her exposed. I react as chivalrous as I can, considering I am the one who caused her immodesty. I remove my shirt and drape it over her shoulders to cover her. I apologize as I move away from her and climb out of her bed. I glance at Carlisle and he is scowling at me.
I can think now that I am away from her and I see too that she seems disappointed as she looks at me. I watch her eyes travel down my shirtless chest and I head instinctively for the door. On the other side of the barrier I tell her that we will return as soon as I have made her breakfast. Carlisle leaves ahead of me and I look at her longingly from my side of the wall.
"I am sorry ….this is so disheartening." I leave and follow him up, when what I really want to do is finish what we started.
Carlisle waits for me in the kitchen. "What do you have for her to eat?" His question catches me off guard considering what he interrupted.
"Is that all you have to say?" I look at him in frustration.
"What do you want me to say? Than you're being an idiot? That you're taking too much of a chance on killing her? Or maybe I should just go back to what my father would have said and tell you that your sins are going to make you burn in hell for all eternity! I thought it just better to take care of her needs rather than try to take you to task for what you're doing." He is prowling around in the kitchen and pulling out some of the food I had stored haphazardly in the refrigerator I never even realized we had.
"I'll take care of the cooking, I've had some experience recently with human food since my daughter-in-law and granddaughter have given me a good reason to learn some of the skills I never knew even as a human." He laughs as he pulls out a frying pan and sets it on the stove. "Funny thing is, Nessie prefers to hunt with us, but she still loves when I make her french toast for breakfast." He heats the pan and breaks eggs into a bowl to beat them. I watch him fascinated, just enjoying the smells. As I watch he prepares a lovely plate with french toast topped with a pureed fruit syrup, a poached egg on the side, and cheese. He pours milk and juice and hands me the tray. "You lead the way."
We both go downstairs, but then Carlisle dashes back up to turn off the appliance before joining me once more. Summer is dressed when we come to her cell, and I can smell the mint of toothpaste. When I open her unlocked cell she watches me cautiously as I set the tray down and give Carlisle the credit for doing the cooking. She seems embarrassed and I can only imagine that it is because of our earlier preoccupation. I calmly go to her and take her in my arms, kissing the top of her head before I release her and step outside of the cell.
We both watch Summer eat her breakfast with obvious enjoyment. I notice Carlisle has changed from the night before and is wearing a muted purple button down shirt with charcoal gray pants. With his collar open and his sleeves rolled up he looks like a professional young human. I smile as I recall Vladmir trying to imitate this style with mixed results.
As soon as she is finished eating she takes a seat in the chair and we are all quietly watching one another. Carlisle speaks first. "I apologize for interrupting your...activity. But there are some things you need to know Summer." He then goes on to tell her in detail about how our kind can indeed participate in intimate relations with humans – at great risk to the human. He also tells how it is possible for our kind to impregnate a human female. It is what she has already heard, but in light of what almost happened she is considering it a warning.
Carlisle continues with his clinical dialogue and even I am embarrassed as he touches on subjects that should be personal and private in my opinion. "Summer, the most obvious answer to the dilemma you both face is for you to become like us. I'm sure Stefan would happily change you and then you would have little fear of keeping the secrets, or participating in intimate activities. Of course there are a lot of negatives that come with that choice and I'd want you to know about all of them before you took that step."
I can see from her look that the explanations are going to be unnecessary. She shakes her head as she stands up to pace in front of the window. "No, I can't do it. I mean if there was some way to live like you do without needing to kill something just to survive I would...but it's not even worth it to kill animals to keep me alive. I just can't do that.
Carlisle listens respectfully before he presents his next option. I have to walk away as he outlines his recommendations for contraception. His questions about her cycles and her health leave me shamed in ways his earlier interruption did not. When I hear him enter her cell I cannot get closer as I know he is giving her an injection that should prevent her from conceiving if my seed should come into contact with her human egg. He continues to give her instructions on what is safe and when to renew the protection. Then he comes my way.
He leads the way up the stairs and we go back to the sitting room. He looks at me still in my pajama pants. "You look different from the last time I saw you Stefan." His eyes meet mine and he nods his head as if affirming a suspicion. "I noticed it when I spent time in Volterra. You ancients are different from the rest of us. But I'm seeing a change in you that wasn't there when you came to witness for us. Your skin isn't as translucent. It doesn't look so fragile and powdery...and your eyes have lost that cloudy film. If I didn't know better I'd say you were only a couple hundred years older than me." He grabs my arm and compares it side by side with his. I am still lighter, but I can see what he is talking about. I am surprised to see the shadows of my own veins have disappeared as well. I look at him in confusion. "Why don't you go get dressed and we can talk."
I leave him then to go. I remember how Summer remarked that I dress like an undertaker and so I forsake the vest, coat, and tie. I take a moment to assess my looks in the mirror and I too can see what he spoke of; especially in my eyes. I also notice that the red iris's have become darker than I expected. They look as if I need to feed soon, though I should have at least another week. When I return Carlisle is comfortable on the settee and I again sit opposite him.
"I think she's good for you Stefan." He doesn't waste time with preamble. "Your physical condition is proof; whatever you're doing and feeling seems to be giving you back some of your vitality. I didn't know that was possible. It will be interesting to see how far the transformation can go with time. I mean you've not even had a week together. Of course in order for that to happen we need to make sure you can keep her alive. You're going to need to figure out what to do about the law, and I assume Vladmir will have something to say about a human sharing your house and bed." He is again making me uncomfortable with his words.
"That brings me to my next point Stefan. You're not off the hook as far as protecting her goes. You need to do your part if you want to be with her as a man. I've given her something that should work in twelve hours or less, but because the timing of her cycles is off, I've advised her to use an alternate method until you both can be sure. A week should be fine." He reaches into his bag as he talks. When he pulls out a large box I am stunned speechless. "For about a week I'd recommend you use the barrier method of birth control..."
The case of condoms he presents makes me angry. I leap to my feet, angrily asking, "my god, what do you think I am going to do to the poor girl? One hundred...for a week! You've brought enough to supply a brothel! I could never...I mean just because I want her... I do not think I could ever...this is ridiculous!"
Carlisle's laughter snaps me out of my anger. "Sit down, I need to show you something." I sit, still fuming as he opens the box and takes out one of the wrapped ….things. The odor is pervasive but he does not seem to notice as he tears the package open and removes the disk shaped ….thing. With practiced ease he unrolls it until it looks like a deflated balloon, seemingly innocent until I consider its purpose. He stretches the opening and holds it near his mouth, then spits into it twice. With two fingers he squeezes the fluid to the bottom and we sit and wait.
As I stare at him he calmly tells me, "I don't expect you to be with her so many times in a week. I'd recommend you show much more restraint than that since just one wrong move can result in her death. If I could talk you out of it entirely I would, but this mornings demonstration proves that is unlikely." As he spoke I watched the spittle begin dripping from the end of the condom.
With a grin Carlisle looks at me. "For a week, each time you want to be intimate with her, you will need to use three of these. Humans hate even using one, so I'm thinking it's not going to be a picnic for you either. There's not enough venom in our semenole fluids to kill the sperm, but there is still enough to make these fail." He holds up the dripping condom with a smile.
"Would you please put that away!" It disgusts me just looking at it. "All this is pointless anyway. I am not going to need to use any of this." I indicate the ….things. "I have already decided I am going to change her."
Carlisle freezes and locks his gaze onto mine. "NO! You can't do that she already said she didn't want it!" He leaps to his feet suddenly more angry than I have seen him yet.
"She is mine, she will do what I want, and I did not ask your permission!" I do not know why I speak in such a confrontational tone, I only know that of all the options he has presented, only one truly makes sense. I cannot take a chance on killing her accidentally; one time in my existence is more than enough.
"Stefan, you just can't decide that for her. I've done it myself and it doesn't always work. She deserves to have her wishes respected. She is young and healthy and you can't take that choice away from her just because you want a plaything!" His hand on my arm makes me more angry than it should.
I push him angrily away as I yank my arm free. "ENOUGH! She needs protection. Changing her will give her the necessary protection from humans, the Volturi, and even me! You have not given me any other reasonable choices! Now stay out of it!" I stalk by him to head to the cellar. I feel his hand clamp down like an iron manacle on my arm.
"I'm sorry, I can't let you do this my friend." His words are calm and cold but his intention is clear.