Elisabeth in the sunlight was shocking. I couldn't get used to it, though I'd been staring at her all afternoon.
Her skin, white despite the faint flush from yesterday's hunting trip, literally sparkled, like thousands of tiny diamonds were embedded in the surface. She lay perfectly still in the grass, her shirt partially open over her sculpted, incandescent chest. Her glistening, pale lavender lids were shut, though of course she didn't sleep. A perfect statue, carved in some unknown stone, smooth like marble, glittering like crystal.
Now and then, her lips would move, so fast it looked like they were trembling. But, when I asked, she told me she was singing to herself; it was too low for me to hear.
I enjoyed the sun, too, though the air wasn't quite dry enough for my taste. I would have liked to lie back, as she did, and let the sun warm my face. But I stayed curled up, my chin resting on my knees, unwilling to take my eyes off her. The wind was gentle; it tangled my hair and ruffled the grass that swayed around her motionless form.
The meadow, so spectacular to me at first, paled next to her magnificence.
Hesitantly, always afraid, even now, that she would disappear like a mirage, too beautiful to be real…
Hesitantly, I reached out one finger and stroked the back of her shimmering hand, where it lay within my reach. I marveled again at the perfect texture, satin smooth, cool as stone. When I looked up again, her eyes were open, watching me. Butterscotch today, lighter, warmer after hunting. Her quick smile turned up the corners of her flawless lips.
"I don't scare you?" she asked playfully, but I could hear the real curiosity in her soft voice.
"No more than usual."
She smiled wider; her teeth flashed in the sun.
I inched closer, stretched out my whole hand now to trace the contours of her forearm with my fingertips.
I saw that my fingers trembled, and knew it wouldn't escape her notice.
"Do you mind?" I asked, for she had closed her eyes again.
"No," she said without opening her eyes. "You can't imagine how that feels." She sighed.
I lightly trailed my hand over the perfect muscles of her arm, followed the faint pattern of bluish veins inside the crease at her elbow. With my other hand, I reached to turn her hand over. Realizing what I wished, she flipped her palm up in one of those blindingly fast, disconcerting movements of her. It startled me; my fingers froze on her arm for a brief second.
"Sorry," she murmured. I looked up in time to see her golden eyes close again. "It's too easy to be myself with you."
I lifted her hand, turning it this way and that as I watched the sun glitter on her palm. I held it closer to my face, trying to see the hidden facets in her skin.
"Tell me what you're thinking," she whispered. I looked to see her eyes watching me, suddenly intent.
"It's still so strange for me, not knowing."
"You know, the rest of us feel that way all the time."
"It's a hard life." Did I imagine the hint of regret in her tone? "But you didn't tell me."
"I was wishing I could know what you were thinking…" I hesitated.
"And?"
"I was wishing that I could believe that you were real. And I was wishing that I wasn't afraid."
"I don't want you to be afraid." Her voice was just a soft murmur. I heard what she couldn't truthfully say, that I didn't need to be afraid, that there was nothing to fear.
"Well, that's not exactly the fear I meant, though that's certainly something to think about."
So quickly that I missed her movement, she was half sitting, propped up on her right arm, her left palm still in my hands. Her angel's face was only a few inches from mine. I might have — should have — flinched away from h34 unexpected closeness, but I was unable to move. Her golden eyes mesmerized me.
"What are you afraid of, then?" she whispered intently.
But I couldn't answer. As I had just that once before, I smelled her cool breath in my face. Sweet, delicious, the scent made my mouth water. It was unlike anything else. Instinctively, unthinkingly, I leaned closer, inhaling.
And she was gone, her hand ripped from mine. In the time it took my eyes to focus, she was twenty feet away, standing at the edge of the small meadow, in the deep shade of a huge fir tree. She stared at me, her eyes dark in the shadows, her expression unreadable.
I could feel the hurt and shock on my face. My empty hands stung.
"I'm… sorry… Elisabeth," I whispered. I knew she could hear.
"Give me a moment," she called, just loud enough for my less sensitive ears. I sat very still.
After ten incredibly long seconds, she walked back, slowly for her. She stopped, still several feet away, and sank gracefully to the ground, crossing her legs. Her eyes never left mine. She took two deep breaths, and then smiled in apology.
"I am so very sorry." She hesitated. "Would you understand what I meant if I said I was only human?"
I nodded once, not quite able to smile at her joke. Adrenaline pulsed through my veins as the realization of danger slowly sank in. She could smell that from where she sat. Her smile turned mocking. (Ya'll buckle in, Bella's girl is going rogue)
"I'm the world's best predator, aren't I? Everything about me invites you in — my voice, my face, even my smell. As if I need any of that!" Unexpectedly, she was on her feet, bounding away, instantly out of sight, only to appear beneath the same tree as before, having circled the meadow in half a second.
"As if you could outrun me," she laughed bitterly.
She reached up with one hand and, with a deafening crack, effortlessly ripped a two-foot-thick branch from the trunk of the spruce. She balanced it in that hand for a moment, and then threw it with blinding speed, shattering it against another huge tree, which shook and trembled at the blow.
And she was in front of me again, standing two feet away, still as a stone.
"As if you could fight me off," she said gently.
I sat without moving, more frightened of her than I had ever been.
I'd never seen her so completely freed of that carefully cultivated facade. She'd never been less human… or more beautiful. Face ashen, eyes wide, I sat like a bird locked in the eyes of a snake.
Her lovely eyes seem to glow with rash excitement. Then, as the seconds passed, they dimmed. Her expression slowly folded into a mask of ancient sadness.
"Don't be afraid," she murmured, her velvet voice unintentionally seductive.
"I promise…" She hesitated.
"I swear not to hurt you." She seemed more concerned with convincing herself than me.
"Don't be afraid," she whispered again as she stepped closer, with exaggerated slowness. She sat sinuously, with deliberately unhurried movements, till our faces were on the same level, just a foot apart.
"Please forgive me," she said formally. "I can control myself. You caught me off guard. But I'm on my best behavior now."
She waited, but I still couldn't speak.
"I'm not thirsty today, honestly." She winked.
At that I had to laugh, though the sound was shaky and breathless.
"Are you all right?" she asked tenderly, reaching out slowly, carefully, to place her marble hand back in mine. (~Just vampire things~ -When you have a rando psychopathic outbursts and threaten to kill your girlfriend😜)
I looked at her smooth, cold hand, and then at her eyes. They were soft, repentant. I looked back at her hand, and then deliberately returned to tracing the lines in her hand with my fingertip. I looked up and smiled timidly. (Bella's wild lol)
Her answering smile was dazzling.
"So where were we, before I behaved so rudely?" she asked in the gentle cadences of an earlier century.
"I honestly can't remember."
She smiled, but her face was ashamed. "I think we were talking about why you were afraid, besides the obvious reason."
"Oh, right."
"Well?"
I looked down at her hand and doodled aimlessly across her smooth, iridescent palm. The seconds ticked by.
"How easily frustrated I am," she sighed. I looked into her eyes, abruptly grasping that this was every bit as new to her as it was to me. As many years of unfathomable experience as she had, this was hard for her, too. I took courage from that thought.
"I was afraid… because, for, well, obvious reasons, I can't stay with you. And I'm afraid that I'd like to stay with you, much more than I should." I looked down at her hands as I spoke. It was difficult for me to say this aloud.
"Yes," she agreed slowly. "That is something to be afraid of, indeed. Wanting to be with me. That's really not in your best interest."
I frowned.
"I should have left long ago," she sighed. "I should leave now. But I don't know if I can."
"I don't want you to leave," I mumbled pathetically, staring down again.
"Which is exactly why I should. But don't worry. I'm essentially a selfish creature. I crave your company too much to do what I should."
"I'm glad."
"Don't be!" She withdrew her hand, more gently this time; her voice was harsher than usual. Harsh for her, still more beautiful than any human voice. It was hard to keep up — her sudden mood changes left me always a step behind, dazed. (Me to my irl gf)
"It's not only your company I crave! Never forget that. Never forget I am more dangerous to you than I am to anyone else." She stopped, and I looked to see her gazing unseeingly into the forest.
I thought for a moment.
"I don't think I understand exactly what you mean — by that last part anyway," I said.
She looked back at me and smiled, her mood shifting yet again.
"How do I explain?" she mused. "And without frightening you again… hmmmm." Without seeming to think about it, she placed her hand back in mine; I held it tightly in both of mine. She looked at our hands.
"That's amazingly pleasant, the warmth." She sighed.
A moment passed as she assembled her thoughts.
"You know how everyone enjoys different flavors?" she began. "Some people love chocolate ice cream, others prefer strawberry?"
I nodded.
"Sorry about the food analogy — I couldn't think of another way to explain."
I smiled. She smiled ruefully back.
"You see, every person smells different, has a different essence. If you locked an alcoholic in a room full of stale beer, she'd gladly drink it. But she could resist, if she wished to, if she were a recovering alcoholic.
Now let's say you placed in that room a glass of hundred-year-old brandy, the rarest, finest cognac —
and filled the room with its warm aroma — how do you think she would fare then?"
We sat silently, looking into each other's eyes — trying to read each other's thoughts.
She broke the silence first.
"Maybe that's not the right comparison. Maybe it would be too easy to turn down the brandy. Perhaps I should have made our alcoholic a heroin addict instead."
"So what you're saying is, I'm your brand of heroin?" I teased, trying to lighten the mood. (Ew lol :/)
She smiled swiftly, seeming to appreciate my effort. "Yes, you are exactly my brand of heroin."
"Does that happen often?" I asked.
She looked across the treetops, thinking through her response.
"I spoke to my brothers about it." She still stared into the distance. "To Jasper, every one of you is much the same. He's the most recent to join our family. It's a struggle for him to abstain at all. He hasn't had time to grow sensitive to the differences in smell, in flavor." She glanced swiftly at me, her expression apologetic.
"Sorry," she said.
"I don't mind. Please don't worry about offending me, or frightening me, or whichever. That's the way you think. I can understand, or I can try to at least. Just explain however you can."
She took a deep breath and gazed at the sky again.
"So Jasper wasn't sure if he'd ever come across someone who was as" — she hesitated, looking for the right word — "appealing as you are to me. Which makes me think not. Emmett has been on the wagon longer, so to speak, and he understood what I meant. He says twice, for him, once stronger than the other."
"And for you?"
"Never."
The word hung there for a moment in the warm breeze.
"What did Emmett do?" I asked to break the silence.
It was the wrong question to ask. Hwe face grew dark, hwe hand clenched into a fist inside mine. She looked away. I waited, but she wasn't going to answer.
"I guess I know," I finally said.
She lifted her eyes; her expression was wistful, pleading.
"Even the strongest of us fall off the wagon, don't we?"
"What are you asking? My permission?" My voice was sharper than I'd intended. I tried to make my tone kinder — I could guess what her honesty must cost her. "I mean, is there no hope, then?" How calmly I could discuss my own death! (Wow a rational Bella, imagine that)
"No, no!" She was instantly contrite. "Of course there's hope! I mean, of course I won't…" She left the sentence hanging. Her eyes burned into mine. "It's different for us. Emmett… these were strangers he happened across. It was a long time ago, and he wasn't as… practiced, as careful, as he is now."
She fell silent and watched me intently as I thought it through.
"So if we'd met… oh, in a dark alley or something…" I trailed off. (I HATE HER)
"It took everything I had not to jump up in the middle of that class full of children and —" She stopped abruptly, looking away. "When you walked past me, I could have ruined everything Carlisle has built for us, right then and there. If I hadn't been denying my thirst for the last, well, too many years, I wouldn't have been able to stop myself." She paused, scowling at the trees.
She glanced at me grimly, both of us remembering. "You must have thought I was possessed."
"I couldn't understand why. How you could hate me so quickly…"
"To me, it was like you were some kind of demon, summoned straight from my own personal hell to ruin me. The fragrance coming off your skin… I thought it would make me deranged that first day. In that one hour, I thought of a hundred different ways to lure you from the room with me, to get you alone. And I fought them each back, thinking of my family, what I could do to them. I had to run out, to get away before I could speak the words that would make you follow…" (Bella's fight or flight response is busted.)
She looked up then at my staggered expression as I tried to absorb her bitter memories. Her golden eyes scorched from under her lashes, hypnotic and deadly.
"You would have come," she promised.
I tried to speak calmly. "Without a doubt."
She frowned down at my hands, releasing me from the force of her stare. "And then, as I tried to rearrange my schedule in a pointless attempt to avoid you, you were there — in that close, warm little room, the scent was maddening. I so very nearly took you then. There was only one other frail human there — so easily dealt with."
I shivered in the warm sun, seeing my memories anew through her eyes, only now grasping the danger.
Poor Ms. Cope; I shivered again at how close I'd come to being inadvertently responsible for her death.
"But I resisted. I don't know how. I forced myself not to wait for you, not to follow you from the school. It was easier outside, when I couldn't smell you anymore, to think clearly, to make the right decision. I left the others near home — I was too ashamed to tell them how weak I was, they only knew something was very wrong — and then I went straight to Carlisle, at the hospital, to tell him I was leaving."
I stared in surprise.
"I traded cars with him — he had a full tank of gas and I didn't want to stop. I didn't dare to go home, to face Esme. She wouldn't have let me go without a scene. She would have tried to convince me that it wasn't necessary…
"By the next morning I was in Alaska." She sounded ashamed, as if admitting a great cowardice. "I spent two days there, with some old acquaintances… but I was homesick. I hated knowing I'd upset Esme, and the rest of them, my adopted family. In the pure air of the mountains it was hard to believe you were so irresistible. I convinced myself it was weak to run away. I'd dealt with temptation before, not of this magnitude, not even close, but I was strong. Who were you, an insignificant little girl" — she grinned suddenly — "to chase me from the place I wanted to be? So I came back…" She stared off into space.
I couldn't speak.
"I took precautions, hunting, feeding more than usual before seeing you again. I was sure that I was strong enough to treat you like any other human. I was arrogant about it."
"It was unquestionably a complication that I couldn't simply read your thoughts to know what your reaction was to me. I wasn't used to having to go to such circuitous measures, listening to your words in Jessica's mind… her mind isn't very original, and it was annoying to have to stoop to that. And then I couldn't know if you really meant what you said. It was all extremely irritating." She frowned at the memory.
"I wanted you to forget my behavior that first day, if possible, so I tried to talk with you like I would with any person. I was eager actually, hoping to decipher some of your thoughts. But you were too interesting, I found myself caught up in your expressions… and every now and then you would stir the air with your hand or your hair, and the scent would stun me again…
"Of course, then you were nearly crushed to death in front of my eyes. Later I thought of a perfectly good excuse for why I acted at that moment — because if I hadn't saved you, if your blood had been spilled there in front of me, I don't think I could have stopped myself from exposing us for what we are. But I only thought of that excuse later. At the time, all I could think was, 'Not her.'"
She closed her eyes, lost in her agonized confession. I listened, more eager than rational. Common sense told me I should be terrified. Instead, I was relieved to finally understand. And I was filled with compassion for her suffering, even now, as she confessed her craving to take my life.
I finally was able to speak, though my voice was faint. "In the hospital?"
Her eyes flashed up to mine. "I was appalled. I couldn't believe I had put us in danger after all, put myself in your power — you of all people. As if I needed another motive to kill you." We both flinched as that word slipped out. "But it had the opposite effect," she continued quickly. "I fought with Rosalie, Emmett, and Jasper when they suggested that now was the time… the worst fight we've ever had. Carlisle sided with me, and Alice." She grimaced when she said her name. I couldn't imagine why. "Esme told me to do whatever I had to in order to stay." She shook her head indulgently.
"All that next day I eavesdropped on the minds of everyone you spoke to, shocked that you kept your word. I didn't understand you at all. But I knew that I couldn't become more involved with you. I did my very best to stay as far from you as possible. And every day the perfume of your skin, your breath, your hair… it hit me as hard as the very first day."
She met my eyes again, and they were surprisingly tender.
"And for all that," she continued, "I'd have fared better if I had exposed us all at that first moment, than if now, here — with no witnesses and nothing to stop me — I were to hurt you."
I was human enough to have to ask. "Why?"
"Isabella." She pronounced my full name carefully, then playfully ruffled my hair with her free hand. A shock ran through my body at her casual touch. "Bella, I couldn't live with myself if I ever hurt you. You don't know how it's tortured me."
She looked down, ashamed again. "The thought of you, still, white, cold… to never see you blush scarlet again, to never see that flash of intuition in your eyes when you see through my pretenses… it would be unendurable." She lifted her glorious, agonized eyes to mine.
"You are the most important thing to me now. The most important thing to me ever."
My head was spinning at the rapid change in direction our conversation had taken. From the cheerful topic of my impending demise, we were suddenly declaring ourselves.
She waited, and even though I looked down to study our hands between us, I knew her golden eyes were on me.
"You already know how I feel, of course," I finally said. "I'm here… which, roughly translated, means I would rather die than stay away from you." I frowned. "I'm an idiot."
"You are an idiot," she agreed with a laugh. Our eyes met, and I laughed, too. We laughed together at the idiocy and sheer impossibility of such a moment.
"And so the lion fell in love with the lamb…" she murmured. I looked away, hiding my eyes as I thrilled to the word.
"What a stupid lamb," I sighed.
"What a sick, masochistic lion." She stared into the shadowy forest for a long moment, and I wondered where her thoughts had taken her.
"Why… ?" I began, and then paused, not sure how to continue.
She looked at me and smiled; sunlight glinted off her face, her teeth.
"Yes?"
"Tell me why you ran from me before."
Her smile faded. "You know why." (All these mood swings are giving me whiplash!)
"No, I mean, exactly what did I do wrong? I'll have to be on my guard, you see, so I better start learning what I shouldn't do. This, for example" — I stroked the back of her hand — "seems to be all right."
She smiled again. "You didn't do anything wrong, Bella. It was my fault."
"But I want to help, if I can, to not make this harder for you."
"Well…" She contemplated for a moment. "It was just how close you were. Most humans instinctively shy away from us, are repelled by our alienness… I wasn't expecting you to come so close. And the smell of your throat." She stopped short, looking to see if she'd upset me.
"Okay, then," I said flippantly, trying to alleviate the suddenly tense atmosphere. I tucked my chin. "No throat exposure." (I need a fucking neck brace)
It worked; she laughed. "No, really, it was more the surprise than anything else."
She raised her free hand and placed it gently on the side of my neck. I sat very still, the chill of her touch a natural warning — a warning telling me to be terrified. But there was no feeling of fear in me. There were, however, other feelings…
"You see," She said. "Perfectly fine."
My blood was racing, and I wished I could slow it, sensing that this must make everything so much more difficult — the thudding of my pulse in my veins. Surely she could hear it.
"The blush on your cheeks is lovely," she murmured. She gently freed her other hand. My hands fell limply into my lap. Softly she brushed my cheek, then held my face between her marble hands.
"Be very still," she whispered, as if I wasn't already frozen.
Slowly, never moving her eyes from mine, she leaned toward me. Then abruptly, but very gently, she rested her cold cheek against the hollow at the base of my throat. I was quite unable to move, even if I'd wanted to. I listened to the sound of her even breathing, watching the sun and wind play in her bronze hair, more human than any other part of her.
With deliberate slowness, her hands slid down the sides of my neck. I shivered, and I heard her catch her breath. But her hands didn't pause as they softly moved to my shoulders, and then stopped.
Her face drifted to the side, her nose skimming across my collarbone. She came to rest with the side of her face pressed tenderly against my chest.
Listening to my heart.
"Ah," she sighed.
I don't know how long we sat without moving. It could have been hours. Eventually the throb of my pulse quieted, but she didn't move or speak again as she held me. I knew at any moment it could be too much, and my life could end — so quickly that I might not even notice. And I couldn't make myself be afraid. I couldn't think of anything, except that she was touching me.
And then, too soon, she released me.
Her eyes were peaceful.
"It won't be so hard again," she said with satisfaction.
"Was that very hard for you?"
"Not nearly as bad as I imagined it would be. And you?"
"No, it wasn't bad… for me."
She smiled at my inflection. "You know what I mean."
I smiled.
"Here." She took my hand and placed it against her cheek. "Do you feel how warm it is?"
And it was almost warm, her usually icy skin. But I barely noticed, for I was touching her face, something I'd dreamed of constantly since the first day I'd seen her.
"Don't move," I whispered.
No one could be still like Elisabeth. She closed her eyes and became as immobile as stone, a carving under my hand.
I moved even more slowly than she had, careful not to make one unexpected move. I caressed her cheek, delicately stroked her eyelid, the purple shadow in the hollow under her eye. I traced the shape of her perfect nose, and then, so carefully, her flawless lips. Her lips parted under my hand, and I could feel her cool breath on my fingertips. I wanted to lean in, to inhale the scent of her. So I dropped my hand and leaned away, not wanting to push her too far.
She opened her eyes, and they were hungry. Not in a way to make me fear, but rather to tighten the muscles in the pit of my stomach and send my pulse hammering through my veins again.
"I wish," she whispered, "I wish you could feel the… complexity… the confusion… I feel. That you could understand."
She raised her hand to my hair, then carefully brushed it across my face.
"Tell me," I breathed.
"I don't think I can. I've told you, on the one hand, the hunger — the thirst — that, deplorable creature that I am, I feel for you. And I think you can understand that, to an extent. Though" — she half-smiled — "as you are not addicted to any illegal substances, you probably can't empathize completely."
"But…" Her fingers touched my lips lightly, making me shiver again. "There are other hungers. Hungers I don't even understand, that are foreign to me."
"I may understand that better than you think."
"I'm not used to feeling so human. Is it always like this?"
"For me?" I paused. "No, never. Never before this."
She held my hands between her. They felt so feeble in her iron strength.
"I don't know how to be close to you," she admitted. "I don't know if I can."
I leaned forward very slowly, cautioning her with my eyes. I placed my cheek against her stone chest.
I could hear her breath, and nothing else.
"This is enough," I sighed, closing my eyes.
In a very human gesture, she put her arms around me and pressed her face against my hair.
"You're better at this than you give yourself credit for," I noted.
"I have human instincts — they may be buried deep, but they're there."
We sat like that for another immeasurable moment; I wondered if she could be as unwilling to move as I was. But I could see the light was fading, the shadows of the forest beginning to touch us, and I sighed.
"You have to go."
"I thought you couldn't read my mind."
"It's getting clearer." I could hear a smile in her voice.
She took my shoulders and I looked into her face.
"Can I show you something?" she asked, sudden excitement flaring in her eyes.
"Show me what?"
"I'll show you how I travel in the forest." She saw my expression. "Don't worry, you'll be very safe, and we'll get to your truck much faster." Her mouth twitched up into that crooked smile so beautiful my heart nearly stopped.
"Will you turn into a bat?" I asked warily. (Scooby Doo, come get these goons)
She laughed, louder than I'd ever heard. "Like I haven't heard that one before!"
"Right, I'm sure you get that all the time."
"Come on, little coward, climb on my back."
I waited to see if she was kidding, but, apparently, she meant it. She smiled as she read my hesitation, and reached for me. My heart reacted; even though she couldn't hear my thoughts, my pulse always gave me away. She then proceeded to sling me onto her back, with very little effort on my part, besides, when in place, clamping my legs and arms so tightly around her that it would choke a normal person. It was like clinging to a stone.
"I'm a bit heavier than your average backpack," I warned.
"Hah!" she snorted. I could almost hear her eyes rolling. I'd never seen her in such high spirits before.
She startled me, suddenly grabbing my hand, pressing my palm to her face, and inhaling deeply.
"Easier all the time," she muttered. (Fucking freak!)
And then she was running.
If I'd ever feared death before in her presence, it was nothing compared to how I felt now.
She streaked through the dark, thick underbrush of the forest like a bullet, like a ghost. There was no sound, no evidence that her feet touched the earth. Her breathing never changed, never indicated any effort. But the trees flew by at deadly speeds, always missing us by inches.
I was too terrified to close my eyes, though the cool forest air whipped against my face and burned them.
I felt as if I were stupidly sticking my head out the window of an airplane in flight. And, for the first time in my life, I felt the dizzy faintness of motion sickness.
Then it was over. We'd hiked hours this morning to reach Elisabeths's meadow, and now, in a matter of minutes, we were back to the truck.
"Exhilarating, isn't it?" Her voice was high, excited.
She stood motionless, waiting for me to climb down. I tried, but my muscles wouldn't respond. My arms and legs stayed locked around her while my head spun uncomfortably.
"Bella?" she asked, anxious now.
"I think I need to lie down," I gasped.
"Oh, sorry." She waited for me, but I still couldn't move.
"I think I need help," I admitted.
She laughed quietly, and gently unloosened my stranglehold on her neck. There was no resisting the iron strength of her hands. Then she pulled me around to face her, cradling me in her arms like a small child.
She held me for a moment, then carefully placed me on the springy ferns.
"How do you feel?" she asked.
I couldn't be sure how I felt when my head was spinning so crazily. "Dizzy, I think."
"Put your head between your knees."
I tried that, and it helped a little. I breathed in and out slowly, keeping my head very still. I felt her sitting beside me. The moments passed, and eventually I found that I could raise my head. There was a hollow ringing sound in my ears.
"I guess that wasn't the best idea," she mused.
I tried to be positive, but my voice was weak. "No, it was very interesting."
"Hah! You're as white as a ghost — no, you're as white as me!"
"I think I should have closed my eyes."
"Remember that next time."
"Next time!" I groaned.
She laughed, her mood still radiant. (some stability from the bipolar express)
"Show-off," I muttered.
"Open your eyes, Bella," she said quietly.
And she was right there, her face so close to mine. Her beauty stunned my mind — it was too much, an excess I couldn't grow accustomed to.
"I was thinking, while I was running…" She paused.
"About not hitting the trees, I hope."
"Silly Bella," she chuckled. "Running is second nature to me, it's not something I have to think about."
"Show-off," I muttered again.
She smiled.
"No," she continued, "I was thinking there was something I wanted to try." And she took my face in her hands again.
I couldn't breathe.
She hesitated — not in the normal way, the human way.
Not the way a man might hesitate before he kissed a woman, to gauge her reaction, to see how he would be received. Perhaps she would hesitate to prolong the moment, that ideal moment of anticipation, sometimes better than the kiss itself.
Elisabeth hesitated to test herself, to see if this was safe, to make sure she was still in control of her need.
And then her cold, marble lips pressed very softly against mine.
What neither of us was prepared for was my response.
Blood boiled under my skin, burned in my lips. My breath came in a wild gasp. My fingers knotted in her hair, clutching her to me. My lips parted as I breathed in her heady scent.
Immediately I felt her turn to unresponsive stone beneath my lips. Her hands gently, but with irresistible force, pushed my face back. I opened my eyes and saw her guarded expression.
"Oops," I breathed.
"That's an understatement."
Her eyes were wild, her jaw clenched in acute restraint, yet she didn't lapse from her perfect articulation.
She held my face just inches from hers. She dazzled my eyes.
"Should I… ?" I tried to disengage myself, to give her some room.
Her hands refused to let me move so much as an inch. (This is so fucking weird to read)
"No, it's tolerable. Wait for a moment, please." Her voice was polite, controlled.
I kept my eyes on hers, watched as the excitement in them faded and gentled.
Then she smiled a surprisingly impish grin.
"There," she said, obviously pleased with herself.
"Tolerable?" I asked.
She laughed aloud. "I'm stronger than I thought. It's nice to know."
"I wish I could say the same. I'm sorry."
"You are only human, after all."
"Thanks so much," I said, my voice acerbic.
She was on her feet in one of her lithe, almost invisibly quick movements. She held out her hand to me, an unexpected gesture. I was so used to our standard of careful non-contact. I took her icy hand, needing the support more than I thought. My balance had not yet returned.
"Are you still faint from the run? Or was it my kissing expertise?" How lighthearted, how human she seemed as she laughed now, her seraphic face untroubled. She was a different Elisabeth than the one I had known. And I felt all the more besotted by her. It would cause me physical pain to be separated from her now.
"I can't be sure, I'm still woozy," I managed to respond. "I think it's some of both, though."
"Maybe you should let me drive."
"Are you insane?" I protested.
"I can drive better than you on your best day," she teased. "You have much slower reflexes."
"I'm sure that's true, but I don't think my nerves, or my truck, could take it."
"Some trust, please, Bella."
My hand was in my pocket, curled tightly around the key. I pursed my lips, deliberated, then shook my head with a tight grin.
"Nope. Not a chance."
She raised her eyebrows in disbelief.
I started to step around her, heading for the driver's side. She might have let me pass if I hadn't wobbled slightly. Then again, she might not have. Her arm created an inescapable snare around my waist.
"Bella, I've already expended a great deal of personal effort at this point to keep you alive. I'm not about to let you behind the wheel of a vehicle when you can't even walk straight. Besides, friends don't let friends drive drunk," she quoted with a chuckle. I could smell the unbearably sweet fragrance coming off her chest.
"Drunk?" I objected.
"You're intoxicated by my very presence." She was grinning that playful smirk again.
"I can't argue with that," I sighed. There was no way around it; I couldn't resist her in anything. I held the key high and dropped it, watching her hand flash like lightning to catch it soundlessly. "Take it easy — my truck is a senior citizen."
"Very sensible," she approved.
"And are you not affected at all?" I asked, irked. "By my presence?"
Again her mobile features transformed, her expression became soft, warm. She didn't answer at first; she simply bent her face to mine, and brushed her lips slowly along my jaw, from my ear to my chin, back and forth. I trembled.
"Regardless," she finally murmured, "I have better reflexes."