This chapter contains the answer to a question many of you asked after reading The Ghost Of You.
All rights to Twilight belong to SM. I'm just screwing with her characters.

Summer 1933

Rosalie hopped from limb to limb where she could and dashed along the forest floor in between. Her smile widened as she neared the creek, anticipating a repeat of the peaceful silence experienced during her first visit. As she was just about to drop from the treetops, the sound of someone already splashing around made her freeze, gripping the limbs above her head to harness her momentum. A few twigs and sticks tore away as her hands slid along the bark and dropped to the forest floor.

Suddenly, all was silent around her. The surrounding forest was as frozen as she was, waiting for the prior calm to resume. After a few minutes of breathless observation, Rose carefully climbed down the tree she perched on, eventually reaching a low and wide branch. Rose laid down on it, resting her chin on her wrist and observing the odd human in the creek pool.

Odd that he appeared shortly after Carlisle and I came through, she thought sarcastically. Why is he following me? In the meadow, he had been warning her. He seemed almost protective, though evidently, he knew what she was.

Why would he betray his people? Why protect a monster he did not know?

Suddenly alert, Ephriam stood. Fully naked, he walked out of the water. Wide-eyed, Rose held her breath as he searched his surroundings.

He trembled, his heartbeat quickening. "I know you are here," he said as if she were beside him. "Are you just going to watch me, or do you intend to stay?"

Rose let out an involuntary gasp. The audacity of this one, my goodness.

"I came here alone. No one will come," Ephriam said and walked back into the water, sinking into the center as she had done that first night.

What the hell to do? Should I speak with him again? What if it's some sort of trap? Should I run home to Carlisle? Then I would just have to deal with Edward's anger all night. Suddenly, risking an ambush seemed less annoying than Edward's pretentious piano solos for the next two hours. It's just as well. I'm already dead. What could they do anyway?

Rose dropped to the ground and walked toward him carefully. Shoving her hair over her shoulder, she was surprised to find a few leaves stuck there. She had entirely forgotten, letting her hair flow free in the meadow earlier. Her hairpins lie on the ground somewhere now, forever lost. Her feet were bare, the bottoms nearly black from the rich earth.

If only Mother could see me at this moment. Rose combed her fingers through her hair to remove the stuck leaves and sat down on a large boulder by the entrance to the creek pool. When his warm, earthy scent hit her, she remembered how upset their earlier encounter made her and considered fleeing again.

Before she could decide, he stood in the water. Ephriam smirked and said, "She walks. Does she talk?"

Rose couldn't help but smile back as a nervous laugh escaped her. She asked, "Do you plan to stay long?"

His eyes filled with mischief, he asked, "Do you?"

Rose was trying to look anywhere but at Ephriam's naked form. Tall, muscular, and lean, his size alone was intimidating - for a human. He seemed somehow taller than he had on their first encounter. His musculature was larger in other ways as well. Rosalie had not realized it that afternoon with his proximity. Now that he was a few paces from her, the height difference was unmistakable.

Was that even possible? She adamantly refused to allow herself to glance below his chest. She had gotten a clear enough view from her perch in the tree. "I intend to swim at some point. If you want to know how long we are staying in the area, I can't say. That decision belongs to Carlisle, I suppose."

"Carlisle?" Ephriam asked, "Is that the golden man you were with today?"

"It is very impolite to stalk someone, sir," she said, though she felt no anger over his actions this time. Had she not just done the same thing to him? Still, his fascination with her confused her. Tentatively she asked, "Why do you hunt me?"

"Hunt you?" He frowned, immediately taken aback. "You believe I am hunting you?"

Rose said, "You follow me. You watch. Is it not the same?"

"It is not the same," he said. "I wish you no harm. I only want to learn of you, to know you are what you claim. My brothers …" Ephriam lowered his voice, nearly growling as he warned, "My brothers would hunt you."

His warning washed over her like he'd thrown her in the creek, sending a shiver up her long-dead spine while dread settled like lead in her belly. She damn near gasped out loud.

"Why would you not, then? You do not know who I am. You only know what I am."

"I have seen nothing that assures me you are a threat," he said. "You said you drink animals, and I have seen it. Your eyes tell me you are not the same."

Rose calmed somewhat and asked, "Because of the color?" Carlisle had long discovered that eye color proved animal blood was consumed amongst their kind. The redder the eye, the more human blood is consumed. Those who fed on humans daily had eyes that shined like rubies in the light, as red as the freshest blood spilled on pure snow.

"Because of your soul," Ephriam said softly.

Again, his words took her by surprise. Did he believe she still had a soul? She was not even sure if it was true anymore. Carlisle truly felt vampires were damned. If she could have cried at that moment, she would have. Somehow this odd, beautiful stranger made her feel vulnerable. And, very, very human.

"I am not innocent," she admitted. "But, I've never tasted human blood. I don't want to do that. Whether I have a soul remains to be seen."

Incredulously, he asked her, "How long have you been as you are?"

She chuckled. "A vampire? A few months."

He swallowed nervously. "And your eyes are already gold?"

Rose stared into the rocky creek bed as she thought about the night her human life ended and mentally cursed Royce King to hell for the thousandth time. Unintentionally lowering her voice to a whisper, she said, "I lost a lot of blood when I died."

For a while, all was silent. Rose closed her eyes and listened to the soothing sound of the trickling water while she awaited his response. When she finally glanced at his face, Ephriam openly stared back at her. His sour expression did not hinder his beauty, but it did annoy her. Why does he care so much?

Harsher than intended, she said, "Please do not pity me."

"Why? Did you choose this life?" Ephriam scooped cool water over his face and pushed his long, dark hair back.

The question cut her to the quick as a wave of bitterness flooded her being. "No," she said firmly, unable to hide the anger behind that one simple word. I certainly did not choose this life.

Unwilling to meet his gaze, Rosalie watched as droplets of water dripped from his chin and slid down his broad chest before looking away again. Despite her anger, she felt fascinated with his rich, dark skin to the point of distraction. Royce King, as much as she had once cared for him and despite all the time spent in his presence, had never fascinated her as much as this odd stranger had in three encounters. Even Edward, with his peculiar behavior and pale skin, had not left her so intrigued. The observation was unsettling.

Interest in Royce and Edward had led her to this life. Could a fascination with this man imply a worse fate?

"I didn't mean to offend," Ephriam said before she could ponder it further. "You are very young."

She scoffed and admitted, "Eighteen. Practically a spinster."

He chuckled and shook his head. "Your friend also appears young."

"Carlisle?"

He nodded at Rose's question. "Is that his name?"

"He is quite old. Close to three hundred."

Ephriam gaped at her again in surprise, then asked, "Is he your creator? He took your life?" He began trembling again, moving closer to her.

Rose said, "He is my father in this life, yes. Killing me was never his intention. He was trying to save me. He barely found me in time." This was possibly the oddest conversation I've had with a stranger.

Another part of her was busy asking herself, Why are you answering his curiosity? Why does he need to know, and why are you so willing to answer truthfully? Rose didn't have the answer to that. She felt equally curious about him. He was the first to take any interest in her besides her new family. Was she simply attempting to feed her vanity or genuinely interested in knowing him? Rose didn't have the answer to that, either.

His voice softening with genuine concern, he asked, "You got hurt? How?" He sat in the shallow water and somewhat attempted to conceal himself. For the first time, Rose was glad for the lack of color in her cheeks. If she were still human, she would have been blushing.

"It is not a tale I care to tell," she said simply.

Respectfully, he nodded. His trembling had calmed again, though she was unsure how. The water felt nearly warm to her cold skin. He had been so hot when he'd touched her arm in the meadow that she had wondered if he carried a fever. She could only assume that the water was freezing for him.

She asked him, "Have you cooled down?" Ephriam glanced over at her curiously. "Your skin was hot today. Are you ill?"

He scoffed, staring away from her. "I am not ill. I am waiting."

Before she could stop herself, Rose asked him, "What are you waiting for?"

"To change. My first change will come soon," he said bitterly.

"Change?"

He smirked at her again. "You do not know what I will become? My ancestors claimed we are natural enemies, you and I."

"I honestly cannot imagine a worse monster to become than what I am," she admitted softly. "At least your heart still beats. And I am not your enemy."

"My people have a legend. One like you, a red-eyed demon, attacked my people. My ancestor took on the body of a wolf. He became a creature that could change between wolf and man. He could tear the creature apart. Since his change, the men from our blood become wolves when the time is right. We protect our land and people from the demons of your kind," he explained.

"And when you become this wolf ..." she asked hesitantly, "Will you then want to kill me?"

"I hope that is not what happens," he admitted. "Killing, outside of survival, does not appeal to me."

Grimacing from the ache in her cold hands, Rose spread her fingers out and flexed them. Ephriam watched her curiously and asked, "Are you in pain?"

She sighed, wiggling her fingers again. "Yes. I hate being cold. It is the one thing I hate the most about being… this."

Rose gasped as Ephriam suddenly moved to her side. He reached toward her hands and hesitated, chuckling.

"May I?" he asked her, holding his hands out.

Rose hesitated for a moment before she held her hands out for him. He clasped both of her hands between his large, hot palms. She couldn't help the involuntary moan that escaped as his heat enveloped her hands. The sensation was reminiscent of warming her stiff hands near the fire, the warmth of his touch spreading through her like an electric current.

When Ephriam finally let go, she moaned happily again, flexing her fingers. "That is the best my hands have felt since…" She looked up at him and forced a smile at him.

Ephriam grinned back at her before sighing. "I suppose I should leave you now," he said. "I have taken up quite enough of your time."

Rose could not help but feel disappointed. She squeezed her eyes shut as he stood and walked out of the water. She could hear him muffling his laughter at her embarrassed reaction. Within a few minutes, he had dressed and was tying a large knife to his waist. He grabbed a wide cloth satchel from where he'd hidden it on a tree limb and slung it over his shoulder. He nodded at Rose as he walked into the forest and disappeared as silently as a ghost.

When she was sure he had gone, she stripped from her dress and slid into the water. When she finally stepped out and redressed, the sky had lightened with the approaching dawn.

She sighed as she contemplated going home. Edward was probably pacing in aggravation, wondering where she was. She hoped Carlisle was not worried, though he would have searched her out if he had been. Rose climbed up the closest tree and began darting across limbs toward home.

Current Day

Ephriam led Rose gracefully around the floor. While Emmett was a decent dancer, something about how Ephriam moved intrigued her. He had been a graceful human and wolf, but as a vampire, he moved as if he was light as a feather. His movements were fluid and precise, despite his hulking frame. They danced through a few songs, silently enjoying each other. The room full of humans behind them barely existed.

Eventually, Ephriam walked back to their table to grab her purse and cardigan. He slung an arm around her shoulders and led her from the bar. She smirked as he walked past a group of bikers hovering together in a cloud of cigarette smoke and mounted a dark blue chopper. He fired it up, grinning as she stared.

He looks damn good on that bike.

"You coming?" he asked her and chuckled.

Not yet. But she would before she left his side. Many, many times. He laughed harder as he took in her expression, aware of how much she still craved him after all these years.

"Jacob drives a Harley. I guess it runs in the family," she said, redirecting her attention. Rose walked over, appraising the height of the seat.

"Judging my choice of bike?"

"Judging my dress, actually." She grinned and winked before tearing her dress up the side of one thigh.

A few men nearby cheered and then laughed as she curtsied, saluted them, and swung her leg over the bike. Rosalie knew they glimpsed the bare curvature of her ass with the motion as one man dropped his jaw and leaned against his friend. She looked up at Ephraim and winked.

"Still my wild woman," Ephriam said affectionately. Rose wrapped her arms around his waist and leaned against him as they sped away.

Ephriam turned off onto a poorly kept gravel road hidden in a clump of forest near a strip club on the edge of Port Angeles. Rose wondered, not for the first time, what the tribe would think if they knew that not only was Ephriam alive (sort of) but that he lived so nearby.

Despite living in the area with Emmett for some time, Rose had not broken their "scheduled" plans to seek Ephriam out. While their situation wasn't what most would consider a normal one by any means, it worked for her men, and she didn't want to ruin what they had. Rosalie loved them both.

Ephriam's cabin loomed ahead of them, dark, quiet, and seemingly empty for anyone who would happen across the property. Though he had running water and a cast-iron stove to heat the cabin, should he choose to, there had never been much need for him to worry about electricity. He used candles and lanterns for light, though he did not need them with his perfect vampire vision. The simplistic way he lived always made her feel like he'd taken her back in time. Back when they were both trapped, young adults with nowhere to escape except within each other.

Ephriam chuckled as Rose hopped down immediately after he shut off the bike. "Someone is eager."

"I have missed this place," she whispered, nudging him.

"Hey," he whispered, teasing her, "it missed you, too."

It missed me. Of course, he would joke that the cabin missed me. Ephriam would never tell her that he missed her out loud. He rarely said he loved her. Instead, he let every touch and glance convey his feelings, pouring love and warmth into her as though every time were their last. It took decades for Rosalie to be so open with her feelings. After experiencing so much pain, both understood the other's difficulty with sentiments. She hoped he would rejoin their family one day. He's missing out on so much…

Ephriam cupped her face between his hands and gently brought his lips to hers. He projected his warmth, and Rose moaned as she sunk into him. Ephriam lifted her into his arms and carried her to the cabin, kicking open the door as he stepped inside. He sat her down in his lone kitchen chair before turning to close the door.

Ephriam moved around the tiny kitchen space, placing wood and a wad of newspaper into the stove. She heard the strike of a match, and he dropped it onto the pile. The flame flickered and quickly caught the waiting wad of paper. Soon, the kindling caught, and the fire grew, filling the small cabin with soft orange light.

Carvings of wolves and homemade tribal art hung on otherwise bare wooden walls. The wooden floor was patchworked with various hand-woven rugs. In the opposite corner of the room sat Ephriam's bed. Bookshelves beside it were stuffed to the brim, and other stacks of books littered the floor at the footboard.

She gasped as she spotted the vase of fresh white roses atop the nightstand, their blooms wide and impossibly heavy on their thin, thorny stems. She took a deep breath, able to detect their lush fragrance underneath the scents of wood and smoke permeating the space. Ephriam chuckled as he finished fiddling with the fire and closed the iron door.

Rose grinned at him playfully and stood as he stalked toward her. She hopped up as he closed the space between them, further tearing her skirt and wrapping her legs around his waist. Lips crashed and melded together in perfect synch, beginning a familiar dance that called to her like home.

Ephriam turned, squeezing her hips in his large hands as he poured warmth into her frozen body and carried her to bed.

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