As always, I own nothing to do with Twilight. Go figure lol.

I thank you all so so much from the bottom of my heart. As usual, I am nervous as a coiled spring lol. But, my excuse from now on will be that... Edward made me do it! He is in control, and wants to take the story where it goes.

Hoping you will enjoy. I apologize so much again if it's a bad one. I always get nervous about posting- I suppose that'll never change, though.

Love you guys, I absolutely loved reading your thoughts on the last several chapters. Hope you keep them coming, and that you find some enjoyment in this one! x

Chapter Twenty

"Edward, untie me."

It felt like I had said that, over and over, for the past hour, while he kept on driving. And, like every other time before it, he ignored me, smiled to himself, and pretended he hadn't heard me talking at all.

But the tie keeping my wrists clasped together was truthfully too tight. I couldn't move my hands an inch, and they were starting to throb and ache, whenever I tried. Clearly, he didn't care, though. His mind was set on getting us to our destination as quickly as possible.

I couldn't tell much of our whereabouts, but I took advantage of looking every chance I got. The scenery gradually changed, from thick, green bushlands, to a straight rocky road that seemed to go on forever and ever. There were just no signs, nothing to give me any inclination into whereabouts it was he was taking me to. It was starting to seriously stress me out.

Once we had reached the illuminated surroundings of the hotel, it was already dark out. The parking lot was virtually empty, aside from two or three cars parked in the spaces. I figured that whereever we were, not many people took a pit-stop to this particular hotel.

Not to cause suspicion, of course, once he found a space to park closest to the hotel, he whispered for me to keep quiet, and that he'll be back in a minute, or two. I watched, swelled up with irritation, as he climbed out of his car, relocked the doors, and approached into the dark opening of the hotel, probably to get the keys for our room. Naturally, he couldn't risk taking me in with him. What would people think, had he brought in this young girl, who most likely had a swollen jaw and puffy eyes?

Surely, they would have automatically assumed something sketchy was up.

He was jiggling the set of room keys around his thumb, as he came over to my side and unbuckled my car seat for me. Even then, while he bent in and was leaning over me, he was too close to me. I was dying to get away from him.

I slid carefully out of the car seat, hands still bound and held in the middle of my stomach. He didn't even think of untying me, as he opened the back of his car, pulled out a suitcase of whatever luggage he had brought for us, and strolled on ahead of me.

Halfway through walking, he tilted his head back to look at me. "Well, come on," he beckoned, gently. "We haven't got all night. I want to get you inside before it starts raining, and you get wet. The weathercast said so this morning."

Without really wanting to, I followed him obediantly. He was the only way I could get my hands untied, anyhow.

We went through an arched brick area, bringing us under shelter, to a red-paint peeling door. He stopped to set his case of luggage on the ground, thrusted the key into the lock, and threw the door open, wide.

Then, sending me gasping, he turned to me, bent down low, and took grasp of my waist. He lifted me, up, up, until I was in his arms, carrying me bridal style through the doorway.

What the hell?

He was grinning widely, as he set me carefully back down onto me feet. Then, to my relief, he brought his hands up to pull the tie apart by the threading so that I could have my hands free again.

I rubbed them, and let loose an appreciative sigh at having my hands all to myself again.

"This is so exciting," he was saying, as he went back and retrieved his case from outside the door. I heard the door close, then the faint clicking of the lock.

Oh, great. Now I was trapped in here with him, while he was experiencing some kind of erotomanic episode that made him act totally erratic.

His love for me, at the moment, was bat-shit crazy and unpredictable, nearing the point of suffocating and scary.

And, well, as for my love... it was virtually non-existant for him right now, over everything.

Breathing in through my nostrils, I observed the hotel room. It was a lot bigger than I imagined. The room I was in, had both a sleeping area- a large, purple-sheet covered doublebed- and a joined, small kitchen area. I was presuming the bathroom was in a seperate room; Knowing that placated me in some sense.

It was tastefully decorated, with egg-shell colored walls and several abstract paintings hanging on the walls. The lights were modern, round glass domes that lightly lit up the room. There was even a coffee machine in the kitchen.

"Whoa," I whispered, in awe. I couldn't help myself from saying it.

Really, I didn't want to encourage him and whatever sick, little fantasies he was hoping to indulge in with me here, but I couldn't stop it from flying out of my mouth.

"You sound impressed," he observed, a grin stretching wide across his face over it. He laid his heavy-looking suitcase down onto the bed. "I knew you would warm up to it, eventually. It would just take you some time." He sounded absurdly pleased.

Grudgingly, I took in what was meant to be our sleeping area; One double bed, no single. It looked like I was going to have to share the bed with Edward, and be in close quarters to him, while we slept.

Great.

I dipped my chin over to the bed. "It's a bit small, don't you think? I suppose one of us will have to sleep on the floor."

"Small?" He was confused. "Bella, it's a double bed. Fit for two people, me and you."

I pretended to misunderstand him. "But only one person can get into that bed. If you want, I can take the carpet, I guess." Anything to avoid being too close to him...

He was silent for a moment, just staring at me. Then, understanding slowly flickered across his face, and his mouth pressed into a tight, thin line. "Ah, I get what you're hinting at. You don't want to be in the same bed as me?" Even I could hear the aching disappointment in his tone.

I couldn't believe the nerve he had. Did he honestly think I would so much as sleep near him, after what he did to me? After what he did to Charlie? He was delusional.

"No." I shook my head. I decided honesty was best, even if it did hurt his feelings-if he even had them at all. "I don't want to be sleeping anywhere near you!"

Rather instead of looking deeply insulted by my cutting remark, he disarmed me by laughing to himself.

"What are you laughing at?" I spat out, irritated beyond words.

"There's something else I haven't told you about myself." He had the heart to look a little nervous.

Oh, god. There's more? "What else is there?"

"Bella, I...I can't sleep. That is another impossibility for me."

It took a moment for that to properly sink in. "You can't?"

"No."

"Ever?" I couldn't hide the curiosity in my voice, and he had definitely caught it. He smiled at me, but then looked like, if he could, he would be blushing over it.

"No, not even a single bit."

I frowned deeply. "Well, that sounds pretty miserable, if I do actually say so..."

He blinked at me, surprised. "Miserable? Why would you think so?"

"I don't know." I shrugged, then brought my eyes over the whole of the massive room again. I couldn't wrap my head around it; It was all seriously rich. I didn't even know how he could afford such a room! "Those hours must drone on, though, until morning."

"Not if you find a way to occupy your mind. If you do, then you'll find it goes fairly quickly."

I glanced around at him again to find he was standing near the foot of the bed. He reached down and ran his palm slowly over the sheet, like he was indulging in the feel, or something. I felt the nerves race throughout my entire body. He was staring right at me, while he did it.

"What do you do to occupy your mind, though?" My voice came out so quiet, I was worried he hadn't heard me. But it turned out he had anyway, despite it all.

"Before I met you, I would either read or listen to music." He shrugged and, for some reason, looked incredibly embarrassed at the topic of conversation. I don't know why, but because of it, it made me uneasy.

"Before me?" I quirked an eyebrow.

He laughed again to himself- that laugh holding an anxious edge to it- then shifted his gaze elsewhere. "I used to fill my mind with...thoughts to distract myself." I wanted to ask what kind of thoughts, only he bet me to it, anyway. "I... used to picture what it would be like to actually be with you, sexually." He shoved his hands deeply into his trouser pockets, and sighed wistfully. I wasn't breathing. At all. "I would fantasize about how it would feel, the warmth of you spreading all over me, once I were inside of you officially. And, sometimes... I would think about the immense pleasure I would feel, and the gratification, in making you aroused, because of me."

Oh my god. I felt sick inside at his words. He fantasized obsessively about doing things to me, in the droning night hours, because he couldn't sleep? I didn't know whether I ought to have felt either creeped out, or flattered by that. It was a curious mixture of both, though.

Back then, when we first started dating, I did a bit, sure. I wondered what it would be like, how different it would feel... It had me intrigued due to my inexperience, and the fact that I was a virgin and hadn't ever done it before. But, not in a million years, would I constantly think about those things constantly, in the middle of the night whenever I could not sleep, no less.

I watched him cautiously, as he moved over to a small table that was placed opposite the bed. There was a CD player on top. My pulse was racing a bit, as he turned back to the bed and unzipped the suitcase. It was very filled inside. Faintly, I caught that he had his several bags of blood in there with him. Oh, gross.

I was still shivering over it, repulsed, when he brought out a CD case and turned his back onto me, as he fiddled around with the player.

Elvis Presley's 'I Can't Help Falling In Love With You' started playing again gently around the lit room. Of course. God, what was with him and Elvis' music. It was so, so strange.

He held out his hand to me, and I knew then what he wanted. He wanted to dance with me. But I didn't want it, at all. I was in no mood to play and dance, and have fun.

I shook my head, refusing to reach out and touch him.

He sighed loudly and grabbed my hand anyway. He tugged me closer, so much so that he almost sent me smacking right into his chest. Thankfully, I pulled back before it got that far. I was being very resistant, and he could tell. He started whispering underneath his breath, begging with me to dance. Each and everytime he tried to envelop me into him so that we could, I wriggled.

He made a funny noise, a noise that came right from the back of his throat, clattering on the bed of his tongue, and I suppose then, I decided to give up and just surrender. It was easier than even trying to fight him off. He was so adamant on it that we dance; He wouldn't take no for an answer.

He slipped his hand through mine, and held it out between us. He was staring down at my face, as he made us do a small turn.

"You are my little darling ragdoll, and dance we shall," he murmured softly, over the music. I felt it as he put his hand on my back, drawing me in closer. His nose was in my hair.

I made a rude noise of protest.

He leaned back to look at me, his eyes glowing with soft amusement. "Did you really just make a disgusting noise at me?"

"Oh, heaven forbid, Mrs. Masen just did," I taunted, then laughed weakly. But then, I had to close my eyes tightly to keep the waterworks in. "You know, I hate you. I hate the way you make me feel, when I'm around you. You do all these terrible things, like hurting Mike at the party, and what you're doing now... holding me here. And yet," I blew out a breath, frustrated with myself, "You do things and say things, that make me truly unable to feel bad things about you."

Our forced movements stilled into thoughtful silence around the music. "That's the way it should be. It's that way for me, also."

"But I haven't done anything truly despicable to you?"

"No," he agreed, slowly. "You haven't. But all that time you ignored me for what happened, for how you were so ready and eager to banish me straight from your life, ought to have made me feel some sense of resentment for you, and... frankly, it did, for a moment there."

I arched my eyebrows up at him. "But isn't that why you have me, here, like this? Because you're so unreasonable, you can't stand to let me go?"

"I suppose so." He frowned and glanced away from me for a moment, pensive. "I felt incredibly... frustrated that you were able to get under my skin, the way you did. I tried to block it out, only I couldn't. My mind wouldn't let me, to the point where it was ticking, and ticking, in my mind for hours, causing me even more suffering with your absence."

The corners of his lips arched with a faint, sad smile, and I found myself drawn to his mouth. Quickly, I brought my eyes down to his chest instead; To the loose collar of his dressy, white shirt. To the... smattering of chest-hair there. Then, yet again, I had to bring my eyes elsewhere. I didn't want them looking anywhere I didn't want them to be.

"At least, you seemed fuctional enough in the live world," he went on, an air of bitterness in his tone. "The first time, after what happened at the party, with the way you disregarded me so easily for that whole week... I couldn't understand how it was so simple for you, and yet, such torture for me. I would watch you walk by my car, head down, eyes forward, exactly like you were numb to it. Whereas, with me... I had to take the entire week off work, because I was so pathetic and miserable that I could not even focus on my job and my regular clients. I was paranoid that my boss was going to let me go over it." He shook his head, and let loose a trembling, stunned chuckle. "Hell, I even had to make up some bullshit story to tell my boss, that a very close person to me had died, and had to apply for a paid week off work to grieve. Never have I ever felt so vulnerable and hurt before. Everything about it is maddening."

My forehead crinkled at his heartfelt-sounding words. Pity flared deep within, only I couldn't say I wanted to feel any kind of sympathy towards him at all, in that moment.

"But I knew," he continued, in a much brighter, convinced tone of voice, "Oh, I knew. You felt it, too, if not as severe as I did. Everything for me, my love for you, my emotions concerning you, is intensified with what I am. But, inside of you, I know you did. And, you feel it even now. You don't truly want me to let you go, either. All this indifference you're showing me... it is just for pretense, I know it is."

"Well, you're wrong on that." I sounded so full of it, and he had definitely caught me out this time.

He laughed quietly, then raised our clasped hands. He brought the back of mine to his lips. He pressed a kiss into my knuckles, and, without really wanting to, I softened into him.

"Take my hand, take my whole life, too," he started murmuring quietly, in time to Elvis' crooning of the music, "For I can't help falling in love with you..."

I rolled my eyes, and made another inappropriate noise.

"Why do you have to go and taint this?" he whispered softly, feigning outrage.

"I'm really starting to hate this song," I muttered, through gritted teeth at him. "I'm starting to associate it with you. All of Elvis Presley's music, because you've been playing it repeatedly in your car ever since you took me away..."

"Or, is it truly because of something else instead?" he asked, like he knew something I didn't. I shot him a confused look. "Is it because we made honest, passionate love to this song, in my apartment that afternoon before I revealed my actual self to you?" He kissed the back of my hand again. Without my consent, I felt my cheeks flare and burn with heat. "It makes you relive that, doesn't it? It makes you feel incredibly flustered, I can tell, considering the rich flow of blood pulsating to your cheeks."

My throat tightened up at his words. Oh, god. Since when could he read me so well- about the blushing part, anyhow?

"No, it's not due to that at all," I replied, petulantly. "And, besides, I wouldn't have actually called it making love! That's totally cheesy."

He raised an eyebrow. "What was it to you, then, if it were not us making love?"

"Sex. Just plain, old good sex, with no meaning involved."

Of course, I didn't really see it that way. There had definitely been feelings involved, bundles and bundles of it, because I loved him. But, back then at that point in time, everything was so carefree. I didn't feel paralysing fear for what he was, back then. I was completely unsuspecting throughout it.

But I was only simply cheapening it to get a rise out of him. And, judging by the look on his face, I had suceeded.

"You cannot possibly see it that way." He narrowed his eyes down at me. "Tell me, you don't." He was begging.

"Oh, but I do," I laughed, keeping my pitiful lie up. "I totally do! I just wanted to get my first time over and done with, and you were so eager!"

I could see the flash of anger in his eyes. It worked!

"Fine," he hissed, letting go of my hands, and pushing them away. "See it that way!" At once, he stormed off into the clean, compact kitchen area, and threw open the door of the refridgerator.

He pulled himself out one of his pouches of blood, and searched around for a glass. He was muttering quickly underneath his breath, beyond angry in me and my words.

I felt a surge of satisfaction then, just as quickly, guilt for intentionally hurting him the way I had. I felt then, I wanted to dart over to him, and make it clear I was being spiteful, and that I never really meant it. Only, a second later, when I observed him tearing open the bag with his front teeth, and heard the sloshing sounds of the blood being poured into a glass, it made me stubbornly reconsider.

I didn't want to be anywhere near him, while he was drinking that stuff. Ugh. My stomach turned, as he slowly lifted the glass up to his lips. And then, sending me ill even more, his eyes held my own unapologetically, while he swallowed a few mouthfuls down.

He added in a few appreciative moans, and licked his lips for good measure. Perhaps he was doing it on purpose to get me back, because when I visibly shuddered over it, his mouth turned up and his eyes were glinting in amusement.

Sick, sick bastard. Eck!

He went one further, in asking me, "Would you like to try some, Mrs. Masen? It's very good. Soon, you'll be needing it."

I made a gagging sound, and stuck my tongue out at him from where I was standing. "Yeah, in your dreams I'll be needing it..."

"Oh, but I'm always dreaming of that. The possibilities of forever." It caught on that he was being completely serious. I shivered again.

"There will never be a forever between us, you sicko. I'll die before I reach that far!"

He gasped loudly and clutched a hand over his chest, feigning hurt. He thought I was playing with him; I wasn't. Not one bit.

He laughed again, but I was being completely sincere.

Oh my god! His teeth were stained. My stomach churned with full-blown nausea.

"Do I even want to know where you get all that stuff?"

"Probably not."

"Do you kill people for that?" I asked, very seriously. I just needed to know.

He finished off his glass in several more gulps, before turning and rinsing it out. He wiped his mouth on the sleeve of his shirt, before coming closer towards me.

"Of course not. There are other ways."

"How then?" I was self-consciously aware, when he reached out and thumbed along the lining of my collarbone.

"Well," he started, eyeing me intently. "They do have a regular blood bank, where people donate, Bella. We get our blood from there."

"Why?" I pressed, thoroughly disgusted.

It was a little hard to focus exactly on what he was telling me, when his thumb started travelling lower... and lower. Daringly, it went under the neck of my shirt. The heat returned to my cheeks again. Damn him, and his unfair seductive ways.

"Because, not all of us want to be killers, Bella." His expression was completely grave. "This way, we can get our fill, and keep ourselves sustained without having to take away a human's life. Isn't it better that way? Wouldn't you prefer it, like that?"

"Of course," I breathed, kind of relieved that he put it that way. "That sounds much better, much... easier to live with..."

"Not that I'm completely without fault," he went on quickly, much too casually for my liking. "Like everyone, I'm not perfect. Far from it, actually. I've killed before."

My stomach dropped. He's killed before! And, his words in the car... First girl I love, first girl I've managed not to kill.

"Oh, that's so reassuring," I whispered, sardonically. "And, now, you're going to kill me next! Great, it's what I've always wanted!"

He stiffened at my words. Then, immediately looked away, anywhere but directly at me, as he started to undo the cuffs on each of his sleeves. "You honestly believe I'm going to kill you?" He was speaking through clenched teeth. "Even after all this time we've managed to be together?"

"Yes," I insisted, loudly. "I know it! You have me here, because you intend to kill me, sooner or later! Or, at least, do...something sick to me."

Still, he didn't meet my eyes. He rolled his sleeves up to his elbows. "I've come this far, haven't I? I've let you in, both intimately, and emotionally. I've become different... because of you. You've altered me in ways I've never dreamed of. Up until I met you, I would have scoffed at the notion that a human girl could even bring my soul back to life."

"You keep saying that." I crossed my arms over my chest defensively. "I don't believe any of it!"

Suddenly, he held his hand out to me. Why, I had no idea. I stared down at it critically.

"What?"

"Come here," he whispered, full of need.

And still, I stood completely still, staring.

"No," I shook my head fiercely. He tilted his head to the side, contemplating me, his expression pained over my decline. "I'm not letting you draw me in, just so that I can become an easy meal to you!"

"Killing you is the last thing on my mind, believe me. How many times do I have to tell you that? How would you like me to convince you on that?" He took in a trembling breath, hand still outstretched to me, and waiting. "I just want to feel your warmth on me again. I'm always craving it. It's like a drug to me."

"Go to hell!" I went to back away, only he took a lunge, and I felt his fingers close over my arm.

With a teeth-clenched groan, he fell down onto his knees, and tugged me closer. I stared down at him, not even daring to breath.

What the hell does he want from me?

"Don't you see, Bella?" His words were soft, and tender-spoken. "I give myself to you. I am yours, as you are mine, as a soulmate and, somewhere down the line, a husband. Your birthday is in several weeks. Don't you see?"

I was failing to understand one bit. Yes, my eighteenth birthday in a two weeks time. It was September now. But... so what?

My skin felt all gross and dirty. I felt like a shower in that moment- just so that I could get away from him, and all these confusing things that he was telling me. At least for a few minutes.

"Can I have a shower?" I had no idea why I felt it necessary to ask him that, like a child asking their parent for permission, but I just did.

Regaining my sense of dignity, I didn't wait for him to speak. I left him there, on the floor, hands by his sides defeatedly, while I padded my way over to the first door I found that led me into another room.

Luckily, for me, it was the bathroom area.

It was all white tiles and cream-colored shower curtain drapes.

Hell, it even had a jet-spa in the corner of the room, decent sized. Pretty classy.

Already, a set of fluffy white cotton towels were left hanging on the rack. Not wanting to waste time, I pushed the shower curtain to one side, switched on the hot water, and started removing my clothes.

The instance I stepped into the water, it was like all the tension building in my neck, in my back, and around my shoulders, had been washed away and soothed. It felt so good. Hours, would be how long I would spend in here, if it prevented him for being anywhere near me.

Only... that blossoming idea was already shot to hell, when I heard it. Damn him!

I heard the door shuffle open behind me, then a delicate thud as it closed up again.

He was in here, I just knew it. I was aware of it, more than anything.

I heard the gentle unclasping of his belt through the running, dripping water, and then, I just knew. He was taking off his trousers. Hell, he was probably even intending to hop into the hot, steaming shower with me. I couldn't just stand there. I just had to check, and see, for myself, whether he was planning to, or not.

I stuck my head out of the shower curtain.

My breath got stuck in my throat because, sure enough, he was removing his trousers. He was in the middle of stepping out of them, his back to me, and, oh god, he hadn't even been wearing underwear. Next, he unbuttoned his shirt, and tore it off his broad shoulders, letting the material fall into a bunch at his feet.

He was completely naked to me at this point. Never had I ever believed something could ever look so incredibly daunting, even though I had already seen and experienced it once before. There was just no time to prepare and recollect myself, in advance.

He turned and, luckily, I found myself again. Quickly, I ducked my head back into the shower, pulling it right under the spray of water, submerging my entire face. My long hair wrapped around my cheeks, like a wet tangle of dark ropes. The water tapping onto my face drowned out all noise, thankfully.

Only, not enough to hear him slip in behind me through the curtain...

I turned my head away from the spraying water, and looked behind me, strands of my hair dangling forward over my eyes and dripping. He was standing behind me, completely bare, and at ease. His eyes were focused on my bare buttocks, and that didn't do well for the racing nerves inside me at all.

"You... you want to warm up?" I whispered, very softly, and unevenly. I was too anxious to even speak a lot.

He didn't talk; He simply nodded silently, and brought his eyes up to mine, before moving closer.

I bit the inside of my lip and lowered my eyes to the tiles across from him, as I moved out of the way so that he could warm up underneath the jet of clear, pouring water. Immediately, my body broke out into goosepimples with the loss of warmth from the water and the airy bathroom air hitting my skin. I rubbed my hands along my arms to create some friction, shivering and exposed, while I turned to watch him while he moved to stand directly underneath the water.

He was, surprisingly, very quick underneath there. I wondered if he only did it, because he could somehow sense how cold I was, standing there behind him, because he brought his head under, and then, just as suddenly, pulled back from the stream to look at me again.

His hair was dark, completely drenched, standing flat to his scalp. Droplets of water trickled down the bridge of his nose, and rolled underneath his chin, before falling to the tiles like teardrops. Even soaked with water, he still looked like the best-looking thing I had ever seen in my entire life, and I hated that fact about him.

I really oughtn't to have felt that way at all. But it was a little hard. He was irresistable to me, in every way.

He brought his hands up to rub them over his wet face. "Here, you can go back under now. I didn't come in here for that."

"Thanks," I breathed, bringing my eyes downwards to my feet, as I carefully brushed past him.

He wasn't making it any easier on me, though. Soon as I stepped past him, I felt one of his hands as he lifted it up to touch my wet shoulderblade, fingertips eagerly caressing. His touch was amazingly cold in contrast to the warm water that covered me again, as I retreated most of my body back under it to heat myself up again. It was unbelievable.

He bent down and kissed me, tauntingly slow, around my shoulder. He was murmuring words into my skin. Words I couldn't make out, but I presumed they were meant to be tender, and encouraging, by the tone of his voice. His long- fingers brushed over my stomach, as he kept up with his urgent kissing along my back, and I stiffened, caught off-guard, and unsure of whether I ought to let him proceed with what he was doing, or not.

My breathing was dangerously fast, and loud, failing me. I wished he didn't have this affect on me, even after all this time, but... still, he did. It was totally unfair.

Once he stopped kissing around my back, he was breathing down the side of my neck. Stunning me and causing me to accidently whimper, he turned his face into the crook of my neck, nuzzled his nose into the skin, and breathed all of me in, loudly. I wondered what I smelt like to him. Really, he must have enjoyed whatever smell I gave off, because he would smell me constantly before.

I jolted and yelped a bit, when something suddenly prickled and spiked into my skin. In a panic, I got to thinking it was Edward's teeth, but then a moment later, I saw he had a small pointy needle in between his fingers. He must have spiked me with it. And, what the hell for?

"Ouch, Edward!" I moaned, moving away. Lifting a hand, I went to massage my neck with my fingers. Edward caught it, and brought it down slowly to my side instead.

"Just wait," he breathed, desperately.

I saw, out of the corner of my eye, him lowering his head towards my neck again. His mouth closed over the part that felt particularly throbbing to me, and, it occured to me dauntingly then, that he was sucking off the blood that had been drawn out with the pin-prick. Surprisingly, it was both pleasurable and painful, all at once.

"I... I thought you said, you weren't going to kill me," I panted out, as I felt him swirl his tongue in a small, circular motion over the spot on my neck he had pricked. I trembled all over, and gasped. With a low moan, he removed his mouth from my skin.

"Bella, I was merely testing the wine," he groaned, "That's it."

Oh, like there's a difference...