No man knows till he experiences it, what it is like to feel his own life-blood drawn away into the woman he loves.

Dracula, Bram Stoker

Chapter 17 - Broken Glass

"You don't ever have to ask me to reciprocate. How could I not?"

He said it so quietly; if I hadn't watched his lips move I might have missed that he'd spoken.

"Edward, I…"

"Please, just listen to me. I'll let you ask any question you want, call me a bastard, throw things at me, just hear me out first."

I picked up another cracker off the tray, and leaned back into the chair. With food in one hand and a drink in the other, I didn't have to worry about fidgeting or nervous energy.

"I am not a good man, Isabella. I lost my faith in humanity, in compassion a long time ago." Edward paused, taking a drink from his glass.

"When Maggie died, I threw myself into school. I was angry at her, at the world for taking her away from me, and at myself for not seeing it sooner. I was going to be a doctor, yet I couldn't see that she was sick? It was all some sort of obscene joke."

He took a long breath, staring into the fire. It gave me a chance to study him. The dark shadows didn't detract from his looks. It gave him a haunted, world weary quality. I had a momentary flash of Heathcliff wandering the moors in search for Cathy.

And I shook my head in disgust. There was a life beyond books.

"I didn't want to practice after I finished medical school. My residency, all my efforts went toward research. I convinced myself that if I worked hard enough, pushed myself, I could find a cure for the disease that killed Maggie. I knew it couldn't bring her back, but it was a way of keeping her alive."

He drained his scotch and set the glass on the table. Leaning forward, he rested his elbows on his knees and wove his fingers together. I watched him steeple his fingers,

then relax, steeple, than relax, as if trying to work out tension. His eyes never left his hands. It was as if the motion were soothing to him.

"Up until recently, I had three things in my life. My work, my family, and periodically I would bring a woman home to fill the void. And I'd always end up feeling guilty for using them to make me feel whole."

I had a momentary flash of us, kissing in the rain, in his car, in his bed. I closed my eyes, torn between wanting to go back to the way I felt in those moments and the pain that other women had been there too. I wasn't naïve in thinking that he'd been with other women, but the reality of it hurt too much. I'd idealized what we had as something different, something special. Knowing that other women had tried to fill the space that I wanted to claim made the jealousy flare, and I lashed out in anger.

"Is this where I get to call you a bastard now?" I whispered angrily.

Edward looked up at me, his eye brow raised as if in curiosity. Then he shook his head and let out a wry laugh.

"I should have phrased that better. I'm not comparing you to them; I just wanted you to know where my head was at before meeting you."

He continued to flex his fingers, until finally twisting his wrists around to pop his knuckles as he leaned back in the chair.

"The first time I saw you, you were like a magnet that I couldn't escape. I was torn between getting as far away from you as possible and actively pursuing you. And I will admit, at first, all I could see was the resemblance to her. It would be a lie to tell you anything otherwise. I sent you the wild roses knowing that they would provoke you. I wanted to see if you would respond the same way she would have. But that night I found you at the club, you came out swinging. You took what I gave and turned it back around on me in spades. You were fierce and beautiful and angry. You. There was such fire in your reactions, like nothing I'd ever seen, and it pulled me in even further. Any chance of I had of staying away was gone the moment that idiot knocked you into me at the bar."

I closed my eyes, remembering his words outside the club.

God help me, I want to stay away from you, vampire girl. But I can't

"You accused me of tormenting you, of playing games. I never intended to. I assumed that I was tormenting myself, and that by staying closed off and aloof, I kept you intrigued. I needed to make you want me, pursue me. That was the only way that I could be sure that this wasn't some misguided obsession on my part."

"Wanting you was never an issue. It's safe to say we both felt the attraction from day one." I stated quietly. I had responded whole heartedly to his baiting. It had fueled me on, and in doing so I had never stopped to ask questions. I rushed in, and got burned for not insisting on more answers up front.

He stood and walked to the side board to refill his glass. "At first, you were a representation of what I had once been. I wanted you so that I could find that in myself. But the more I saw of you, the more you gave me hope of what could be. You were all I could see, all I wanted. I needed your light, your hope, your strength to feel complete. It scared me."

There was an absolute irony in his statement, and I laughed dryly. "I'm anything but strong, Edward. I jump without thinking and make knee jerk decisions."

He drained his glass and poured another. I looked down at my drink. I had finished it during the course of the conversation.

"Would you like a refill?" He must have seen me studying my empty glass. I stood and walked towards the sideboard, waiting for him to move away. Instead, he stepped closer, reaching up to push a loose strand of hair away from my face.

"You looked like a drowned rat earlier."

His hand traced down my cheek, and the instinct to respond leapt to the surface. My arms shot up to wrap around his neck as I tried to pull him in closer.

Instead of responding, Edward reached up to gently grasp my wrists, untwining them from around his neck.

"You need to hear me out, please. I don't want you to do something you'll regret because I was weak enough to give in."

I dropped my arms and stepped back as the embarrassment and humiliation rushed through me. Quickly turning to the sideboard, I refilled my glass and immediately tossed back a long drink. The liquid burned as it hit my throat and I broke out in a fit of coughing.

"Slow down. You shot tequila and horses, not brandy."

"Don't patronize me, Edward. I am a big girl, which includes owning up for things I shouldn't have done."

While I meant it in reference to my shotgunning of good brandy, it really did cover so much more.

I refilled my glass and curled back up in my chair, knees pulled to my chest as I stared into the fire. The flames danced and crackled, and I let them hypnotize me, take me away from the humiliation and desperation that knotted me up inside.

"I'm sorry." I stated quietly. "I just, well…that was inappropriate of me. Please continue."

We were both quiet for a long time, collecting our thoughts. I replayed everything that Edward said, his motivation with Maggie, when it had morphed to being about me. His admission of pushing me to make me pursue him had caught me off guard, and made me sad. How much of this could have been avoided if we'd just been honest up front? Would his honesty have directly influenced or negated my attraction to him?

"I've been reading the drafts of your paper as you leave them for Jasper."

His statement broke me out of my reverie. I stared at him in shock and confusion.

"You are reading my dissertation? What gave you the right?" I wasn't so much angry as exposed. What was in there suddenly felt very personal, as if he had been reading my journal or personal letters. The themes flashed through my mind; women holding all the power, physical and emotional vampirism, the hypocrisy of gender roles in both sexuality and life.

I had projected my feelings onto the book analysis, and in doing so, had cracked both and myself wide open without realizing it. I was laid bare on those pages for the world to see.

Letting Jasper read it was one thing, he didn't have context as to my epiphany. But Edward? It was suddenly all too personal, too real.

"I happened to see a draft lying on Jasper's desk one day. I took it without him realizing." He paused, as if waiting for me to attack. "I knew how important it was to you, and I guess it was a way for me to keep track of your progress. Needless to say, I had a bit of surprise when I started reading."

"And what great insight did it give you, Edward?" I was so turned around I didn't know which way was which.

He chuckled, but it wasn't in amusement. "Actually, it made me sad to see you so cynical. It may be egotistical, but I blame myself. You are not a cynic. I hated to see how your frustration and anger came through in your analysis."

I sighed and shook my head. I had been mad for so long, that I never realized I wouldn't have gotten there without him. He had been right.

"You know what, Edward, I should thank you. You were the one who insisted that I couldn't write about Dracula, that I didn't have the experience. I came to a few pretty key insights after everything was said and done. Things that change the whole tone of my paper. Part of me is angry at you for that, but another part of me is grateful. I wouldn't have realized it if all this hadn't happened."

The fingers wove back together. Steeple, relax. Steeple, relax. He completed four cycles before speaking again.

"I don't know if I deserve your thanks. I wasn't honest with you about a lot of things."

Not able to handle sitting in one place, I stood and grabbed my glass off the table. The lack of food and rapid consumption of alcohol made me a little unsteady on my feet. It also gave me the courage to say what normally I would probably hold back.

He wanted me to listen; well he needed to listen too.

"Since we are both being honest and listening, I need to tell you a few things too." I looked up at the ceiling, searching the intricate patterns in the plaster for the right words. "Before you, I'd only ever had sex with one person. And up until the last year, I thought I was going to marry him. I don't just jump into bed indiscriminately, and I realize now that I was naïve to think that my expectations were the same as yours. I could have prevented this whole thing, but I decided to throw caution to the wind and have sex with a semi stranger. I could have prevented all of this from happening, and in some ways I wish I had, but in other ways, I needed it to happen."

"Isabella…"

"No, you need to hear this. I might not have handled everything the right way, but I was always honest and upfront with you. I point blank asked you who Maggie was before we ever got to your flat. You promised me that you would answer anything I asked, yet you dodged a few very important questions. I think I am justified at being hurt and confused. Yet even through all that, you are everywhere, and I can't escape from you. I tried to tune you out, but I can't. I have absolutely no control over myself when I am with you. And the only way to contain it was to force the distance to try and protect myself. I am not strong, despite what you think. I'll give in to what ever you ask of me if it means that I can be with you. And in doing so, I'm afraid that I'll try to be whatever it is that you want me to be. I don't want that, but I can't not want you either."

I started toward the sideboard to get a glass of water, but my foot caught on the edge of the rug, and I lost my balance. My hands went out in an attempt to stop my fall, and my brandy snifter went flying. It hit the hardwood, shattering on impact.

"Damn it!" Without thinking, I dropped to the floor, picking up the shards and cursing my alcohol induced clumsiness.

Edward was on his feet, moving towards me, "Stop, you are going to…"

But he was too late, and I hissed and jerked my hand back. A bright line of red immediately welled to the surface. I dropped the glass and cradled my hand, watching as the blood seeped into my palm.

Edward was at my side in a flash, a napkin dabbing at the cut. "Come with me, I need to rinse this off so that I can see how deep it is. You might need stitches."

I tried to pull back, clutching my hand close to my body. I wasn't sure if the protection I sought was physical or emotional; either way it had me frozen in place.

"If you won't move, I can carry you, which I doubt would make you happy. Now are you coming?"

His hand went under my elbow, balancing me as I straightened out of my crouch. I followed him mutely into the kitchen, my cut hand cradled inside the other so as not to drip blood on the floor.

Edward stopped at an oversized sink and turned on the water before grabbing my wrist and pulling me closer.

"This might be cold." He gently moved my hand under the water, and I yelped at the sting. Edward stepped in behind me, his arms around my body to hold my palm in both his hands. He gently moved it under the stream of water as he analyzed the cut.

"It's not deep enough to need stitches. And the alcohol on the glass will likely kill any germs. Let's get some pressure on it. Once the bleeding stops, I'll put a plaster on it, and you should be good as new."

He turned off the water and tore a paper towel from the roll next to the sink, wadding it and pressing it into my palm. Reaching for the paper towels required him to lean forward, and I felt the warmth of his body against my back. I relaxed against him, my body instinctively gravitating to what it perceived as warmth and comfort.

I leaned my head back against his chest, and closed out any thoughts, focusing instead on the thump of his heart. The rise and fall of his chest. Slow deep breaths that created an illusion of rocking.

We stood like that for a long time. Me, relishing being near Edward. Him maintaining the pressure, but never moving away.

"I think the bleeding has stopped," he observed quietly. It snapped me back to reality. Where we were, what had been said. The questions still hanging.

I tried to step away, but Edward's arms tightened around me. "Please stay."

My brain and my body were back at war. It always seemed to be that way with him. The desire to stay versus the fear of the unknown. I felt absolutely helpless to resist the pull. It was stronger than my will.

"I miss you." The words escaped involuntarily. It wasn't a lie, but it left me feeling exposed, terrified. "I miss you so much that it scares the hell out of me. But this is who I am, flaws and all. If you can't accept that, then you need to let me be."

Edward let out a sigh and tightened his arms around me.

"I wish I had something brilliant that would make you believe me when I say that it was always about you. I might have played games with you, but it was always for the best of intentions." His head dropped to my shoulder and I could feel his breath warm against my neck. "I didn't want to hurt you, and I honestly thought that I was protecting you but not being honest. I realize now how wrong I really was."

There were a million things that I wanted to say, but they all seemed to fall short.

And then it didn't matter. His lips were on my neck. One slow, gentle kiss. It took my breath away in its simplicity.

"Isabella, I …"

The sound of the door slamming startled us, and we jumped apart. We both looked up to see Esme and Carlisle in the kitchen doorway.

Esme took one look at the bloody paper towel in my hand, and her eyes went wide. "Oh Bella, are you okay?"

"I'm fine; I tripped and dropped one of your glasses. I am so sorry. Anyway, I cut myself picking up a shard. If you can point me in the direction of a broom and dust pan I can clean it up."

"Nonsense," Carlisle interjected. "We'll take care of it; you need to get a plaster on that. I don't want you getting infected."

"I already have it under control." Edward stood behind me with a box of band aids and a tube of antibiotic ointment.

He and Carlisle stared at each other intently for what seemed like an eternity, some sort of silent conversation flying between them.

I could only imagine how things might look to Carlisle, and I felt my face color in embarrassment.

Esme broke the silence. "I'll go change and get a broom. If I don't see you, have a lovely night."

She left, pulling Carlisle along with her.

I moved to follow her exit. The alcohol, the conversation had me all muddled, and I didn't want to make any more mistakes. Not now, when we were finally turning things around. "I think I am going to turn in. Can we pick up this conversation in the morning when I don't have all this brandy in me? It doesn't seem to be helping."

Edward quickly caught up to me, his hand around my wrist. "The brandy gave you enough courage to be honest. And you need to get something on that so it doesn't get infected."

He turned my hand over and removed the bloody paper towel. The bleeding had stopped, leaving a small cut at the base of the ring finger on my right hand. He squeezed a bit of the antibiotic ointment on the cut, and gently wrapped the band aid around my finger. Then he lifted my hand so that he could kiss my palm. The gesture was innocent, kind.

"Thank you for letting me take care of you."

He sounded vulnerable, so different from the man I thought I knew. I couldn't help myself; I reached up to push his hair away from his eyes. His hand darted up and caught my wrist, turning it so he could kiss my other palm. I was frozen in place, staring at the top of his head. His hair was tousled, dark red, almost black in the low light. I wanted to kiss the spot where it whorled into a cowlick, run my hands through it.

But doing that would imply a familiarity, a sense of intimacy that I wasn't sure I had the right to anymore. I couldn't presume anything that wasn't stated implicitly. That much I had learned in the last few months.

Edward straightened up, so that he could look directly into my eyes. He was so close that I could feel the warmth of his words on my face; smell the alcohol on his breath.

"It's you. It's always been you. I know that not being honest with you should make you want to believe otherwise, but it's true."

I looked away, refusing to give into the tears that were building. He said the one thing that I had desperately wanted to hear, yet I had no clue how to respond, either in words or actions.

As if sensing my confusion, Edward gently grasped my chin, forcing me to look at him. His other hand came up to wipe away the tear that escaped.

"Please don't cry. I hate this limbo that we are stuck in."

"Limbo is a good word," I whispered back.

"I think you're right. We both have a good bit of alcohol in us, and could use some rest." He leaned in closer, his eyes never leaving mine.

"May I kiss you goodnight?"

I couldn't help it, I laughed as another tear escaped. Memories of a simpler time.

"I don't know if we are ready for that, Edward."

He smiled in response. "I want to know what it feels like to have you kiss me on the lips."

He was turning my words around on me in an effort to prove that he was sincere.

"Why now?" I asked quietly.

"Because I want to remember what it feels like, Isabella. I miss the light that you spark in me."

I couldn't respond, at a loss for what to say. I searched his face, looking for a hint of subterfuge, anything that would warn me to stay me away. But all I saw was exhaustion and hope.

Drawing a deep breath, I pulled my hand free from his grasp so that I could trace the dark circle that was so much more prominent in the shadow. Edward closed his eyes in reaction.

"You look so tired."

"I didn't sleep much last night."

"Please understand that I'm afraid…" I broke off, unsure of what I needed to say.

He sighed and opened his eyes. I could see the hurt lurking, but it didn't obscure the hope that was resident there too. He turned his head and kissed the palm of my hand once more.

"You say that you are scared. I understand that. I've tried to be patient, but I refuse to be anymore. I am not going away, and I am not going to let you go. Now go get some sleep. We've got a long day ahead of us tomorrow."

"We?" His statement caught me of guard, as I was still foundering with our previous conversation.

"Yes, we. You want Dracula, I'll give you Dracula. We'll go chase your monster while I prove to you that you will never be second best to a ghost. All in all it sounds like quite the tourist event, doesn't it?"

Edward stepped away from me, dropping my hands and turning towards the front of the house. He paused in the doorway, but didn't look back.

"I love you, Isabella. You may not believe it, but I do. I never told Maggie that. I never felt the need to. But I am finding there are a number of things that I need and want to do for you. And I will prove that, every single day if I have to."

I was too stunned to speak.

"Enjoy your last night without me. It ends tomorrow." He called out as he disappeared down the hallway.

The moment I couldn't see him any longer, I felt the loss. It overrode the doubt and fear I'd battled with for weeks. I couldn't resist the pull; it was stronger than anything else.

He'd told me the truth. Why he did what he did, how he felt, what he wanted. I'd been honest too. And we were still standing. There was hope after all.

Without thinking, I took off after him down the hallway. I took the steps two at a time and hit the second floor landing, immediately looking for which direction Edward might have gone. But I'd waited too long.

He wasn't there. And I didn't know what to do. I hadn't thought beyond catching up to him.

I looked up and down the hallway. All I saw were closed doors. I didn't hear anything, didn't see anyone. I was rooted to the spot, unsure of what to do next.

I closed my eyes and replayed our interaction in the kitchen. I had forgotten how alive Edward made me feel. Everything was in sharper contrast, as if simply him being there filtered my perceptions in a different way. I loved that feeling.

As long as he was honest in saying that it really was just the two of us, it was all that really mattered.

So why was I standing here in the hallway? What were my options? Either go to bed, or knock on every door until he answered. And when I found him, then what?

"Forget which one was yours?"

My eyes flew open. Edward stood in an open door directly across from my room, his hands resting on the door jam as he leaned forward into the hallway.

"I was trying to decide which door to knock on first." My face colored at the admission.

He straightened up and stepped out into the hallway, extending his arm. "I guess I made it easy for you then. Come on."

His hand was steady, palm up, waiting for me to move. I reached out, grasping his fingers as he pulled me in and shut the door.

Other than the light that came from the fireplace, the room was dim.

"Esme just lit the fire; these old rooms get a bit drafty. We can sit there." He pointed towards the wing back chairs that flanked the fireplace.

The room was almost identical to mine. A four poster bed, comfortable chairs for reading, a small fireplace. There was an arrangement of wild roses in a small vase on the mantle.

"One of the benefits of being friends with the proprietors?" I asked, inclining my head towards the flowers.

"No, I brought them for you. A peace offering if you will."

I stepped forward so that I could run my finger along the petals. "Did you take the thorns off this time? The first ones you sent me made me bleed."

"What is the old saying? We always hurt the ones we love?"

I dropped my hand to rest on the mantle. "You don't know me well enough to love me."

"My sister likes to remind me that sometimes we spend more time questioning than accepting. This is one of those things that you need to accept, Isabella. I gave up trying to understand or rationalize it a while ago."

Edward was right. There really was no explaining what existed between us. It just was.

I felt his arm slip around my waist, his hand flattening against my stomach. He didn't pull me back against him, instead stepping close enough to drop his head to rest on my shoulder.

"I've thought about us for a long time. I questioned what odd twist of fate brought you into my life. You knocked everything off tracks, made me want to take my entire life in a different direction. That's when I realized that the world I had crafted for myself was not a life, but a prison. It is time to give it up. I can't do that without you to lead me."

A knot formed in my chest. He was exposing himself, being honest in his hopes.

"I am not much of a leader, Edward. I get lost a lot."

"But at least you try. I was hoping that you could teach me."

"We'd probably antagonize each other to death."

I felt his head shake against my shoulder. It took me a moment to realize that it was laughter.

"That we do. Some might consider it intellectual foreplay."

"Who says you will ever get into my pants again?" My god that sounded so bitchy. I always managed to say exactly what I was thinking around him, with no filter.

The pressure against my stomach increased, pulling me closer into him. I could feel his breath, hot in my hair.

"I wouldn't be so crude as to presume anything of the nature. But you are proving my point in spades. We seem to bring out something in each other that no one else can."

"You make it sound like it's a mutual thing." I was sparring, delaying, trying to get my balance. It was absolutely mutual. There was no way I could ever deny that.

The pressure on my stomach increased a bit more. I was flush up against him now, and his other arm slipped around my shoulders to secure my in place. He held me firmly in place, as if anticipating that I would try and escape. But there was no where else that I wanted to be.

"Is it not a mutual thing? Are you done with me? Can you turn away so easily?"

Edward dropped his head, burying his face in my hair. "I can tell you how infuriating you are when you argue with me. And how absolutely stunning you are when you believe in or want something. How fascinating it is to watch your mind work. I love that you push me, challenge me. You don't back down like so many other people do. You make me want to explore, to know more, to question. No one else has ever done that to me. Only you."

A small shiver when through me as the hand that was on my shoulder moved towards my neck, flattening out just below my collarbone.

"I can tell you that my heart is beating as fast as yours. Don't deny it, because I can feel it. You can argue all you want, but you can't deny this."

His voice had grown huskier, and I could feel his lips move just behind my ear.

"Are you going to insist that it's not mutual? That you don't want me? Because you aren't pulling away from me, Isabella. You can't forget that afternoon anymore than I can. You feel the connection just as much as I do."

Edward's hand moved across my body, stopping at the base of my neck. It slowly slipped up my neck until he reached my chin, where he applied just enough pressure to force me to shift my head towards him.

"I think I'd like to kiss you on the lips, Isabella. I'd like to believe we are both ready for it this time."

Before I could respond to Edward, his lips were on mine. So much like the zoo, it started out hesitant. One gentle, feather light kiss that was over entirely too soon.

And when he kissed me again, there was no longer hesitation from either of us. His hand dropped back to my shoulder, and turned me around to face him without ever breaking contact. As soon as I had finished my rotation, he had one hand cradling my face, the other grasping at the hair at the nape of my neck. It prevented me from moving away as his kisses grew more insistent.

I kept expecting my fight or flight instinct to kick in, but I responded in full, losing myself in it all. I let him own me, manipulate me as he kissed me, sucked on my lip, stroked my face. His actions mimicking his words. He wanted me to believe; to acknowledge that I would respond to him, that I did still want him.

That I needed him. Not just physically, but totally.

And in the course of his assault on my indignation, l let my walls down and allowed myself to believe. I kissed him back, mirroring his intensity, letting him lead, but always matching, never ceding. This wasn't about domination, of one disproving the other. It was about equality, about balance.

About honesty.

When I wrapped my arms up around his back and squeezed my fingers into his skin, I felt him smile.

He pulled back, never losing the self satisfied smirk that had infuriated and called to me since the first time I saw him. "I told you that it wasn't one sided."

He dropped his arms and stepped away, forcing me off balance in the process. I shot my hand out to catch the arm of the chair so as not to land face first.

"What the fuck, Edward?"

He laughed; his face alight with amusement. "You are so very beautiful when you are angry."

I stared at him, infuriated and confused.

"You proved my point. You want me as much as I want you. And you infuriate me as much as I do you. There is absolutely no question about how mutual this is. Now go to bed. I'd like to leave by nine tomorrow morning."

"What the hell is your game, Edward? Wind me up and watch me go?"

He stepped forward, closing the distance between us. His face inches from mine. He stared at my mouth, but didn't move to close the space.

"Wind you up, yes. You can try and deny it all you want, but actions speak louder than words, and I heard yours loud and clear. As for 'winding you up and watching you go,' I'm actually trying to prove that I am a worthy of your trust. If I didn't care about that, I wouldn't have stopped and you wouldn't be standing."

My heart was beating so hard I felt like I could hear it. Anger and desire and panic all mixed together and confused with his proximity.

Edward's smile grew a bit as he watched me stew. He reached over my shoulder without looking away.

"I brought these for you. Good night, Isabella."

He placed the small vase of roses and a book in my hand and stepped away.

I was too flustered to speak. I was torn between storming out of the room and throwing myself at him. I knew that the latter would be rejected, regardless of how

much we both wanted it. I moved quickly for the door, trying to channel every bit of sexual frustration into my irritation of him in that moment.

"Stop fucking with my head, Edward."

"I'm not fucking with your head, Isabella. I'm being honest. I promised that I would. It doesn't mean that I don't like to see you all wound up. I happen to adore every minute of it."

I slammed the door behind me, shutting out his infuriating chuckle.

God, it was going to be a long night.