Author's note: Two updates in once week? I spoil you, I really do!
Chapter twenty two
A girls' night out, that was what Alice had proposed. As I thought about it during the drive to Port Angeles, I realised that, technically speaking, the title was misleading. Only one of us was actually a girl, although, at twenty-three, I hoped to be considered more of a woman. Perhaps it should be re-titled a females' night out. I was so glad Alice and Esme had decided to get ready with me at mine, as it was only the day after my rather suggestive dream about the Cullen patriarch and it had been plagued with flashbacks. The mere thought of Carlisle made me want to start hyperventilating, so who knew what seeing him would do. I could still feel the sensation of his teeth sinking into my neck and the burn of his eyes boring into mine. God, those eyes...
I think Charlie was pretty happy with the arrangement, too, as it was pretty obvious he had a thing for Esme. His eyes had nearly bulged out of their sockets when he came home to see her walking down the stairs, clad in red and black silk. Not that I could blame him. I didn't have to be lesbian or male to see the appeal.
"Isabella," sang a high-pitched, melodious voice.
My musings broken, I focused my eyes on Esme's golden orbs reflected back at me in the rear-view mirror. The skin surrounding them crinkled ever-so-slightly with amusement.
"Where did you go, just now?" she asked, with a musical chuckle.
"Oh, she's probably concocting some outrageous plan of revenge for me making her wear a little make up," answered Alice teasingly.
I turned towards the mischievous pixie sitting beside me in the back seat, pointing from my eyes to her, signalling that she should watch out. She smiled wickedly, before poking her tongue out.
"For a woman of your age," I remarked, my voice taking on a haughty tone. "I expected more mature behaviour."
"At this speed," she countered, mimicking my tone. "Being pushed out of the car might just be enough to kill you."
"And you would have to spend eternity cheering Jasper up after losing his greatest source of entertainment."
"Hmm," she considered, tapping her chin for a moment, before facing me again. "Luckily for you, I put the happiness of my man above all else." She ended with a wink.
"Now, now, girls," Esme said. "Play nicely, or I'll be forced to report you to Papa C."
We all laughed at the nickname Jasper had devised for Carlisle a few days ago, during a discussion about fashion mistakes. Alice began to describe in detail a certain outfit he had chosen to wear during the seventies, then presented me with photographic evidence and I'd almost spat out my mouthful of coffee, before saying he looked like a dodgy pimp. Esme had practically roared with laughter, before she and Jasper began thinking up an assortment of pimp pseudonyms for him. Papa C had become a firm favourite and soon stuck. I wasn't sure if any of them had been brave enough to use it around him, yet, though.
"So, where exactly are we going, tonight?" I asked, changing the subject.
"Well," Alice began. "I haven't the foggiest. I've been here over three years and never even visited a single bar or club."
"So, we're winging it?"
"I've always loved that phrase," Esme commented. "It sounds so free and adventurous."
"And is perfect for tonight!" Alice declared, with a beaming smile.
000
All eyes were on Esme as she sauntered in to the bar. She wasn't clothed provocatively, but, her dress clung in all the right places and the heels accompanying it accentuated sickeningly perfect pins. She was naturally beautiful, but, having made an effort for the evening, was a real knockout. Alice was equally gorgeous, but in a very different way. She'd opted for a more ethereal look, consisting of white lace and chiffon. I, however, was perfectly forgettable in my skinny jeans, grungy t-shirt and short jacket, all lent to me by Alice, although, I suspected she may have bought them for the occasion and lied about them being hers. My obscurity didn't bother me, though. I was glad I wouldn't have to endure the lustful glances the two sirens accompanying me were forced to bear.
The bar was already bustling, but had enough space left for us to occupy a secluded corner near the entrance. I was surprised when Esme and Alice joined me for a couple of drinks, until I remembered the facade they had to upkeep. For a while, three of us sat in silence, people watching and enjoying the music, until Alice initiated conversation.
"So, Bella," she began. "Are there any guys here who catch your interest?"
I was ready to immediately say no, but had a facade of my own to maintain. I hadn't told anyone about my feelings for Dr Carlisle Cullen and planned to keep it that way, to save utter embarrassment for myself and prevent the possibility of losing him. I was happy for my unrequited attraction to remain secret, as long as I could keep him in my life. I made a show of scanning the crowd, before stopping on a guy with blonde hair vaguely similar to the object of my affection. I pointed and both vampires followed the direction of my finger. "He's okay, I guess."
Alice and Esme studied him for a moment, their super-sight allowing them to see him far better than I could. After a shared glance, their gazes turned back to me.
"Got a thing for blondes?" Alice queried.
Yes.
"Not especially," I shrugged. "But he's the only one to really stand out. It's kind of slim pickings in here tonight."
"I have to agree," Esme concurred, draping an arm over the back of her seat as she scanned the male population of the room once again. "Although, he isn't too shabby."
I followed her gaze to a dark haired guy at the bar. He was wiry, average height, wearing fashionable glasses and smart, but casual clothing. He looked nothing like Carlisle at all.
"Not really my type," Alice said.
"Nor mine," I added.
Alice looked at me. "So, what is your type?"
Tall, blonde, pale...
"I don't really have one."
"You must do, if he isn't it."
I glared at her. "Are you trying to match make me? I swear to God, if you are-"
"Relax," Alice chuckled. "I'm only curious. You said he's not your type, so I'm just wondering what is."
Golden eyed, older men, with an interest in medicine.
I bit my lip, trying to silence the distracting thoughts, before answering. "Like I said, I don't really have one. For a start, I don't immediately go for looks and a place like this is the last I'd pick to find a potential partner. I like to get to know people, first."
"Very wise," smiled Esme. "Personally, I like mine to have a manhood big enough to shatter boulders."
I snorted with laughter, placing a hand over my mouth to keep from drenching my top in alcohol. She waggled her eyebrows suggestively, before she burst into mischievous giggles. I may not have known Esme long, but I liked her a lot.
"What about you, Alice?" She continued, throwing a quick glance my way and I suspected she wanted to take the attention away from me. "What's your type?"
Alice straightened and her countenance morphed into an expression of dreaminess. "Tall, southern gentlemen, with a skill for riding."
"Oh my God, you two!" I cried as they laughed.
"I was talking about horses, Bella," Alice insisted, a naughty glint in her eye.
"Was he your type, before you met him?" I asked.
"Hmm, that's an interesting question and the real answer is that I don't know. He's such an important part of my life, that I can't imagine anyone other than him beside me."
"If I had a man with that kind of face beside me," interjected Esme, with a smile. "I wouldn't want to trade him for anything else, either."
"He is rather divine, isn't he?" The pixie sighed, her dreaminess returning.
"There's more to it than that, though, isn't there?" I said.
"Oh, absolutely," she agreed. "For us, vampiric beauty holds nowhere near as much allure as it does for humans. Obviously, I still think he is extremely handsome, but not in the senseless way a human woman would. Because it's designed to aid our efforts of ensnaring prey, a vampire is beautiful to a human in a completely different way to one of its own. For instance, all the men have gawped at Esme whilst she's been sat there-" Esme raised her glass in appreaciation. "-but it's not so much her beauty capturing their attention, but the unusual pull they feel towards her. If a vampire were here, he might find her attractive, but wouldn't leave a trail of drool along the floor as he walked by."
"So, what does attract you to Jasper?" Alice seemed more than happy to talk about it and I decided to abuse that, so that the attention would remain off me.
Alice went still for a while and I began to wonder if I'd accidentally offended her, until she finally opened her mouth to speak. "His soul."
"Soul?"
"I don't mean in a religious sense, I mean in a more spiritual way. His personality, temperament, what makes him him. He's a very charismatic man and one smile could make a woman fall irrevocably in love with him. He's also extremely loyal, willing to die for those he loves. However, there is also a darker side to his personality, created during his early years as a vampire. They were mired by death and unspeakable violence, which turned him into something of a monster at the time. It wasn't his choice; the lifestyle was forced upon him by his sire, who used him as a puppet to carry out her dirty work."
I leaned forward, quickly enthralled by the tale. I knew very little about Jasper and couldn't wait to find out more.
"He was turned during the Southern Vampire Wars, during which many covens went to war with each other in fights for territory. Their weapon of choice was newborns, because, for the first few years of a vampire's life, their strength is at its very highest and their insatiable blood lust makes them easy to control. However, it also makes them unstable, so they have to be kept under control. That was Jasper's job. I believe he was chosen due to being a Major in the Confederate Army during his human life; it gave him the tactical knowledge necessary to run an army. He created and trained newborns for his sire, disposing of them when they outlived their purpose. To do so effectively, he had to ignore his empathetic nature. In a way, it created a second person inside of him, one he still has trouble dealing with even now. He was tricked into it by false love, believing that his sire, Maria, was, in fact, his mate. Of course, that turned out to be very much untrue."
Alice's expression was no longer dreamy. There was an anger simmering beneath the surface and, despite her lack of size, I wouldn't have advised that Maria ever go near Alice Brandon if she valued her own life.
"When I saw him for the first time, I saw none of the darkness he believed ruled him, I saw a man tainted by the selfish desires of another. He was apprehensive when I first approached, which is understandable after all Maria had put him through. But, he soon came around." She flashed a dazzlingly infectious grin. "It was meant to be."
I could feel the love radiating from her, like a blanket reaching out and capturing me within its warm, comforting embrace. I thought back to when I'd first witnessed them together in the diner. At first glance, so different, yet perfect for each other in every way. As I'd spent more and more time with them over the past weeks and months, I saw just how deeply their mutual love ran.
"What do mean by 'mate'?" I asked. The term felt quite animalistic, but, she'd said it in an almost reverent tone of voice.
"I know it sounds quite...uncouth," Alice said. "But it's a phrase we use to describe that one person you were meant to spend the rest of your life with. Humans find it too, but you tend to call them soul mates, I think; makes it more romantic, I suppose." She smiled at me. "It's not always an immediate thing, you might know your mate for years, or even decades, before realising, but, when you do, there's nothing to describe how it feels. It's like everything in your life falls into place. They don't take over your life, or become your sole reason for existing in a weird, obsessive way, they just make you complete and compliment you in every single way."
Listening to her describe it, I felt something I had never truly experienced, before. Sure, the mysterious trio-now quartet-I had come to know possessed beauty, grace and wealth I could only dream of having, and I'd often half-joked about wishing to swap lives with them, but, this was the first I ever felt a physical stirring of envy in my chest. I wanted what Alice had and knew who I wanted it with. Unfortunately, he was too far out of reach. I had never felt this strongly for anyone, before and I was at a loss to explain exactly why Carlisle had such an impact. It was more than just looks. He was kind, caring, funny, strong and extremely loyal to those he loved.
Love.
The word sent a chorus of bells ringing in my head. Did I love him? It was difficult to say. Sure, he was always in my thoughts, either at the forefront, or taking a temporary backseat, as other pressing matters occupied my day, but, was that love? Did my feelings for him match the unflinching adoration Alice had for her Jasper? I remembered the scepticism I'd felt before about the notion of true love. Well, maybe not scepticism, but, perhaps, reservations. I'd never actively sought it out, yet, now I was desperate to have it, but only if it was with one person.
But, how could that ever work? He was a Goddamn vampire, for a start! He was several centuries my senior and had a thirst for human blood, even if his expert restraint stopped him from acting on the impulse. It was too pessimistic an avenue of thought to go down, so I focused my attention back to Alice and flashed a fake smile.
"Are you ready for another drink?" she asked, pointing the almost empty glass sitting in front of me.
"I'll get it," I offered, grateful for the distraction.
The glasses of my two companions were still full, so I decided not to bother getting them anything. The journey to the bar involved quite a bit of zigzagging around people, but I eventually made it. The female bartender was busy serving a queue of people, so it took a while for her to get round to serving me. I opted for a non alcoholic beverage, to ensure I didn't end up getting drunk, but, just as I was about to speak, a shout and the sound of a door swinging open sounded behind me. I turned to my right, to see a thick set guy enter and stride towards the tall red head beside me. I took a few steps back, not willing to become an unexpected participant in their argument and only just cleared the way in time for the red head to be shoved back so hard he fell into the table behind. Glass smashed and liquid saturated the floor, as the table was flipped over in the collision. I saw Esme and Alice both on their feet, ready to assist, but I motioned to them that I was okay.
Before the scuffle could escalate, a couple of well-built men in black t shirts and trousers arrived to diffuse the situation. Everyone remained where they were, until the pair had been escorted out of the bar. Whispers of shock and laughter followed and I turned back to the bartender to complete my order. She poured the coke and I paid, before circling around the upturned table on my way back. I probably should have paid more attention to where I was going, but was busy stuffing the change into my back pocket, when my feet slipped from under me and I flew to the floor. A sharp pain blazed across my temple as I landed and briefly blacked out.
When consciousness returned seconds later, I felt cool hands touching my neck and running across my forehead. My eyes slowly fluttered open and I saw two beautiful faces lined with concern staring down at me.
"Bella, Bella!" The one with short hair cried. "Speak to me!"
"Calm down, Alice," replied the other, her dark hair falling in curtains around her lovely pale face. "Give her a moment."
A throb of pain assaulted the left side of my head and I winced, letting out a hiss.
"Bella," the long haired lady I was beginning to recognise called softly. "Can you hear me?"
I groaned, my hand going up to find the source of the pain and immediately regretting doing so. As soon as I saw the sticky red substance covering my fingers, I began to panic.
"Shh, shh, it's alright," Esme soothed. "You've just cut your head a little, sweetheart. It looks worse than it actually is."
Strong arms carefully levered me into a sitting position and I saw a crowd of spectators surrounding us. Someone came forward to address Esme, carrying a cell phone. "I'll call an ambulance," he offered.
"Instead of the ambulance, I have the number of a doctor friend of mine," she said, with a grateful smile. "Could you call and tell him we are on our way?"
He immediately set to work, more than happy to do anything she desired, as her attention returned to me.
"What..." I began, my voice illustrating the daze I was still in. "What happened?" My head really hurt.
"You slipped and fell," Alice-the owner of the strong arms, I realised-explained. "Hitting your head on the corner of the table as you did."
I glanced at the circular table beside me, currently lying on its side. Beside it were shards of broken glass and a few specks of blood. My blood. The panic returned, but Alice clasped my hands in one of hers, before tightening her grip around my shoulders.
"It's alright," she repeated Esme's sentiment. "We'll take you home and Carlisle can take a look at it. It'll be quicker than waiting at the hospital."
I nodded, before she and Esme helped me up and the latter thanked the young man who had called Carlisle for her, before they both escorted me out of the bar.
The night air was chilly and did nothing to alleviate the pain in my head. Luckily, their car wasn't too far away and Esme turned the heating on the moment we were inside. Alice watched me like a hawk during the entire drive home, asking me questions every now and then, probably worried I might slip into a coma, or something. For the first time in a Cullen vehicle, the journey seemed to take forever. My head throbbed, my hand was covered in blood and I could feel damp patches on the back of my jeans. The smell of beer reached my nostrils and I assumed it was coming from me. It would have been much worse for the vampires present, what with their super senses and I felt like apologising for making their car reek of alcohol. Through it all, I was surprised by how annoyed I felt. Trust my clumsiness to ruin a night out. Then, I registered the fact that Alice had mentioned Carlisle and a fresh wave of panic ran through me. Of all the conditions to be in to see him, this was probably the worst. With that thought came a moment of relief, as I realised I must not be too badly hurt if I could worry about something like that.
When we eventually got to the house, Carlisle was stood by the porch, waiting and immediately rushed to my side of the vehicle, opening the door to help me out. I clutched his hand for support, as I climbed out of the vehicle and, with my klutziness on top form, I stumbled. His arms wrapped around my waist, making me lean against him for support. I looked up at him, ready to apologise, but he gave me a look that reminded me not to even think about breaking the 'sorry ban'. Before we could move anywhere, he set about giving a quick assessment of my injury and asking the routine questions to determine if I was suffering with concussion. When his hand cupped my chin to turn my face, my mind deemed it the perfect moment for a flashback to arise and, for a brief moment, my pulse went haywire. He must have felt it, as his eyes widened in alarm.
"What is it?" he asked, his study of my left temple pausing, to meet my gaze.
"I-is," I thought of something to say, hoping my current predicament would aid the deception. "Is it bad?"
"No, I don't think so," he replied, his eyes returning to the injury. "But, we should go inside, so I can clean and dress it."
I nodded and let him lead me into the house. Alice followed, allowing Esme to park the car in their garage. Carlisle asked for a brief explanation for what happened, which his diminutive companion willingly gave. Not once, from the car, to his study, did his grip falter or loosen and I let his aroma wash over me, calming and clearing my mind. Both Alice and Esme had assured me the cut wasn't bad, but, it wasn't until he said it that I could allow myself to actually believe it.
I noticed Jasper's absence and wondered if my injury had anything to do with it, until we met him at the top of the stairs on the top floor. He was stood in a doorway, hands behind his back and posture stiff. Alice skipped over to him, placing one hand on his chest and the other on his shoulder, her lips moving silently, as she whispered into his ear. I suddenly felt awful for invading his home and making him feel so awkward in the one place he should be able relax.
"It's alright, Bella," he murmured, his Adam's apple bobbing up and down as he swallowed his discomfort. "I'm fine."
I wanted to say something, to apologise, at least, but he was quickly led away by Alice, back down the stairs. Letting go of my hand, but refusing to relinquish the hold on my shoulders, Carlisle reached over to open the door to his study and escorted me inside. The lights were off and the curtains were open, allowing the moonlight to shine through the large windows. Given the seclusion of the area, there were few streetlamps around, meaning the silvery light was undiluted by any artificial amber. Although the room was very different to the one in my dream, the moonlight paved the way for another flashback. It was enough to make me wish I did have concussion.
He led me over to the large desk, which had already been cleared, judging by the small pile of books and papers occupying the nearby sofa. An assortment of medical supplies was present, which I hastily tried to ignore. The whole scene was very familiar and my eyes flew down to the hand I had injured not that long ago. To think mom had worried about my new choice of friends-who better for clumsy Bella Swan to befriend than a doctor? It was a stroke of genius on my part.
Said doctor motioned for me to sit on the empty portion of the desk, before switching on the lamp and I hoisted myself up, a little proud of the fact I didn't fall spectacularly to the floor in the process. Carlisle helped me remove my jacket and placed it beside the other objects on the sofa, before beginning his prep for treating the injury. During this time, I decided to focus my attention on the shelves of books surrounding us. I had been in this room a few times before and, each time, tried to ignore the pangs of jealousy the rows of books elicited, but it was never successful. Before meeting the Cullens, the tiny shelf in my room had never irritated me, but, with each subsequent visit, I found myself loathing my miniscule collection of books more and more-his gift of Wuthering Heights not included, of course.
My view of the books was obscured by his wonderful self, as he positioned himself before me to get the best view of my head wound. Cool fingers beneath my chin gently tipped my head back a little, before coercing me to face sideways, so he could thoroughly examine the damage. I was in danger of reliving the entirety of last night's dream, so clambered for something else to occupy my mind.
"I guess a doctor's work is never done," I remarked, noticing the casual attire he wore. It must have been one of his rare days off, which made me feel all the worse about my clumsiness.
He smiled. "It's an occupational hazard of associating with you," he teased. "Could you hold this side of your hair back, please?"
"Thanks," I replied, with mock huffiness, doing as he requested.
"Well," he continued, the smile growing into a grin. "Under what other circumstances would the sober person in a bar end up being the one to require medical attention?"
I glared at him. "Do you tease all your patients?" I asked. "Seems to me that your bedside manner could do with some improvement, Dr Cullen."
He reached over for a small packet and ripped it open, before returning his gaze to mine. "What have I told you about sass?"
"That memory of yours playing up, again?"
The antiseptic hit my wound sharply and I let out a hiss.
"Ow!" I griped.
"That'll teach you," he winked. Oh, why did he have to do that?
"Bully," I murmured, hoping paranoia made my voice seem to tremble more than it actually did.
He chuckle, continuing to carefully clean the wound. I wasn't sat very far back on the desk, more perched on the edge, really and was far too aware of how closely he stood before me. Four of my five senses were ensnared by him-smell, sight, hearing and touch-and I had to near enough mentally scream at myself to keep from imagining him ensnaring the fifth. Time for another distraction.
"Will Jasper be okay?"
"He'll be fine," Carlisle reassured. "It's more mistrust of himself than his restraint that he struggles with. He was worried about the possibility of hurting you, hence why Alice has taken him out for a few hours."
"If I leave, before he gets back, can you tell him I'm sorry?" I held up a hand before he could protest. "I'm not breaking the ban, it's just that I know it's hard for him, sometimes. For all of you." I paused, before deciding to amend that last statement. "Well, not all of you."
"I don't think he will hold your human tendency for bleeding against you," Carlisle said, in a light tone, although it didn't make fun of my genuine remorse.
"I know, but...I guess I just feel bad for rubbing it in. It must be hard, especially as none of you chose this life."
"Like everything in life, we must simply choose what to do with what we are given." He leaned in closer as he finished cleaning away the blood, able to view the injury clearly, now.
"You're like a saint," I declared, earning a snuffle of amusement.
"Vegetarians would beg to differ," was his flippant response and I had to roll my eyes at his self-depreciation.
"Well, I'm not one," I countered. "So, I think you are."
"Well, thank you," he replied, with a small smile, before his expression became more serious. "I'm afraid there is a small piece of glass in there I shall have to remove."
I gulped, cringing at the pain I knew would come.
"I'll make it as quick and painless as possible," he promised, before retrieve a set of tweezers from the desk. He leaned in close, again, his left hand cradling the back of my head to keep it still. I kept my gaze lowered, and was thankful to have the fear of pulling the glass out, as an excuse for my heart beginning to race.
True to his word, the procedure was quick and I barely felt a thing. When I saw the size of the shard, which was hard to do, due to it being so small, I felt silly for being so worried. His hand slid away from my head, before tapping the underside of my chin affectionately. "See?" he winked. I wanted to tell him to stop doing that, but, enjoyed the gesture too much to follow through.
Distraction time, again. "Has there ever been a time you considered doing things...y'know...the easy way?"
"No," he answered immediately, as he opened the packet of another antiseptic wipe. "I knew right away what I wanted to be." The wipe stung the wound again, but I restrained my hiss to listen to him, settling for a quick grimace, instead. "I wanted to help people. It brings me happiness." He gave a heartbreakingly gorgeous smile as he said that, before he continued in a more serious tone. "Even if I am damned, regardless."
The last sentence stunned me a little and my initial reaction was to treat it as a bit of dark humour, possibly a dig at his father's profession. "Saving yourself a spot next to Satan, Carlisle?"
He'd been busy throwing the cleaning wipe into the trash, so his face was turned away as I spoke, but, when his eyes returned to me, I saw little humour there. I felt awful, all of a sudden, like I'd just suffered a chronic case of foot-in-mouth disease.
"Wait," I demanded, putting a hand on his arm, to halt his movements. "You're serious?" I was panicking; worried in case he had just tried to open up and I'd insensitively laughed it off. Perhaps what I had assumed was humour, was actually insecurity for his father's beliefs about Carlisle's kind. I felt like the biggest asshole on the planet and, when he didn't answer right away, I called his name.
He sighed softly, looking out the window behind me, before answering. "There are those," he began, slowly. "Who believe there is no afterlife for our kind, that this is our afterlife. And, in exchange for this..." he searched for the correct word to use. "...limited immortality, we have, in fact, lost our souls."
The room was enveloped in silence, as he simply stood there, his eyes continuing to gaze out of the window. Remembering what he had told me about his upbringing, I knew just how strongly certain beliefs had been instilled into him from childhood and their lasting effect was plainly obvious, despite the fact those events took place three to four hundred years ago. That haunted look I'd seen in my kitchen the day before had returned and I felt a thrill of anger swell in my chest.
"That's bullshit," I declared, not caring, for once, if he disapproved of my cursing. My harsh words seemed to kick him out of his momentary stupor and those amber orbs refocused on me. "I'm sorry, but it is."
A trickle of humour managed to pull at the corner of his lips. "Thank you, Bella. You've always been very gracious about us." He leaned over to pick up a packet containing a large, white plaster. "By all other accounts, though, we are damned. But, I hope, maybe foolishly, that I will get some measure of credit for trying."
The pity the wan smile gracing his features instilled in me caused my shoulders to droop a little. I was quiet as he continued working, wishing, yet again, that there was something I could do to take the pain away. He was always presented as this pillar of perfection, of immeasurable strength and resolve, yet, there were moments he had proven he was just as vulnerable as the rest of us. I needed to say something, to reciprocate the kindness and comfort he'd offered me in my hour of need.
"He's wrong, you know," I murmured.
Carlisle was about to administer the plaster, when he paused to look at me. "Who?"
I hesitated, pretty certain I knew who this was all about, but, not blind to the possibility that I was way off target. "Your father," I replied. "He was wrong and, if he could see his son, now, I think he might view things a little differently."
Carlisle remained still, but his eyes told me I had hit the mark. There was no response, but could tell he needed more convincing, so made it my mission to do so. I straightened up, my chin lifting resolutely.
"How long have you been a doctor?"
He didn't answer, sensing the question was rhetorical.
"In that time, you've never given in once to the instincts meant to rule your kind. You've got every excuse to be a monster, but you're not. In fact, you've probably saved more lives than every one of your human colleagues combined. You go against your own nature to help others, suffering daily to ensure the wellbeing of an entire town. And," I prodded his chest lightly with my finger. "You were willing to expose what you really are in order to save a young woman's life. Twice."
I let him take those facts in, before continuing, my tone less admonishing, as I willed my eyes to convey the sincerity of my words. "So, you see, you couldn't be damned, it's not possible. Besides, if Saint Carlisle can't get into heaven, what hope do the rest of us have?"
He smiled at the humour attached to the end of my speech, before deciding to commence with covering my wound, gently pressing the sticky edges of the plaster against the skin. He reached for medical tape, tearing off a strip, before placing it over the plaster, to reinforce its grip.
"And that's not graciousness, either," I affirmed. "It's the truth."
His eyes were focused on my temple and I wanted to say more, to prove my words weren't lip service and I really believed them. This man needed to know just how amazing he really was, how much of an impact he had on people's lives and just how much he meant to me. It was then that I realised the answer to the question that had bugged me earlier that evening. Did I love him? I think I did.
"And, if God rejected you," I said, my voice almost a whisper, because it felt like betraying a great secret. "Then, He's not a deity I would want to follow."
In that moment, all mobility in Carlisle ceased. The fingers of his right hand remained pressed against my temple, but his face slowly swivelled to look at me dead on. His eyes were burning, alight with a myriad of emotions and I couldn't even begin to discern any of them. Relief came with the discovery that anger was not one of them, as I realised how blasphemous my words had been. I'd basically admitted I'd denounce God for him, a pretty big deal to the son of a pastor. But, at the same time, I found that part of me-the reckless, nonsensical part-didn't care. It didn't care what anyone thought. It didn't care that my love may be unrequited, that he might discover the depth of that love just by looking at me, or that the Volturi would kill me for the love I bore him. It didn't matter, none of it did.
Only him.
Always him.
I felt cool fingers slide down the side of my face, the soft skin of Carlisle's palm resting against my cheek, as his thumb moved back and forth to caress it. His eyes were watching as the opposable digit made its movements and I desperately wanted to know his thoughts. Had my words upset him? Was he trying to figure out a way to let me down gently? Was this the moment he decided it would be best for me if he ceased contact altogether? I was ready to argue my case, to tell him I didn't expect anything more than the friendship he had already offered, that I wouldn't push for something he couldn't give.
"Coming from you," he murmured, his voice a delicate whisper. His eyes never moved from his hand pressing against my cheek. "Redemption suddenly seems attainable."
They were the last words I had ever expected and the surprise was written all over my face as our eyes met, gold boring into brown. What did that mean? I couldn't decipher his gaze, something I wanted to do so badly, it hurt. Surely he knew what I felt, my body was practically screaming the truth at him, so why couldn't he just give me his answer and be done with it? His touch was stoking a fire building within me that nothing could douse. The recklessness took over and I wasn't sure where thought ended and impulse began. Maybe such a vivid recollection of my dream fuelled my actions, or, perhaps, it was simply the blow to the head that hushed my inhibitions. Either way, I began to close the space between us, slowly, at first, giving him a chance to pull away, but, he didn't. Then, in one fluid motion, I pushed my body forward, away from the desk and reached up to press my lips to his. It was chaste, but loaded with the powerful feelings and longings overloading my soul.
Carlisle's body remained rigid and the hand hadn't pulled away, but, the sensible part of my brain, currently reduced to no more than a distant resonance, began to fill me with doubt. He wasn't responding. I'd made a mistake. I had just fucked up whatever chance we'd had at friendship. My actions had just lost me the person I cared for, above all others and there was no taking it back. It was over.
Then, his grip tightened and he kissed me back. His lips began moving against mine and I reacted instantly, my right hand moving up to clutch the fabric covering his shoulder. His fingers slid into my hair, pressing our faces even closer together and I couldn't even describe the way my heart soared in delight. His free hand curled around my bicep, before both arms wrapped around my shoulder blades, encircling me in a delicious embrace. My arms went around his neck, my fists grasping his beautiful, golden tresses as I felt his cool, moist tongue caress my bottom lip, begging permission to enter. I opened my mouth, ever so willing to grant his wishes and groaned at the divine flavour on my tastebuds.
Never had I been kissed like this. Every inch of my body was alight, revelling in the assault all five of my senses received without protest. It was better than anything I had ever imagined, better, literally, than I had even dreamed it could be. His iciness met my heat and I couldn't get enough. He manoeuvred us a step backwards, gently bumping my backside against the desk. One of my arms slid from around his neck, ready to lever myself to sit atop it, but my actions ceased when I was distracted by the feel of one of his hands slipping over my shoulders, up my neck, to run through my hair. The other moved down to my hip, before his cold touch slipped underneath my t shirt, to press against the bare skin of my back. I moaned deeply into his mouth.
A strong gust of wind blasted my face and I almost toppled to the floor. My coherence was nowhere to be found and I stood there for a long moment, blinking furiously to retrieve my senses, panting heavily. I was unsure of what had just happened, but turned to see Carlisle at the other end of the room, his back to me. Through my own breathlessness, I could hear his breathing was erratic and his body shuddered with every inhale and exhale. His right hand formed a fist and covered his mouth, whilst the other gripped the shelf above him and a quiet splintering of wood echoed in the air.
I didn't know what to do, besides stand there, my hands clutching the edge of the desk behind me for support. After a while, Carlisle's breaths ceased and he slowly straightened, his body carefully turning back round. His gaze fell everywhere but me and my eyes began to water.
"I-" his voice was hoarse and he quietly cleared his throat. "I am so-"
There was a knock and both our heads whipped in the direction of the door.
"Come in," Carlisle called and Esme's heels clicked against the floor as she entered the study.
I didn't have chance to see her reaction as my attention had already returned to him, to find his eyes finally fixed on me. The blank expression on his face threatened to make the tears overflow, but, I desperately didn't want to cry in front of him. I had already taken an almighty liberty; I didn't want to load any more guilt on his shoulders.
"Please be careful with the wound," he murmured to me, before exiting the room so fast, even Esme was taken by surprise.
She watched him leave, before facing me once again and that was when the sobs began.
"I-I didn't mean it to happen," I insisted, wrapping my arms around myself as the salty water ran down my face. "I shouldn't have done it, it was stupid-"
She was at my side in an instant, her hands prying my arms away, before she encased me in a hug. My fingers wrapped around the fabric of her dress as I wept pathetically, feeling more wretched than I ever had in my entire life. I really had blown it. That kiss with Carlisle had been mind blowing and beyond magnificent, yet, if I could, I would have turned back time to forgo the experience, if it meant keeping the magnificent man in my life. It was definitely over now, as my rash actions had changed everything. I lamented his predicted absence in my life already and there were no words of comfort to soothe the ache in my heart. Esme must have sensed this, as she remained silent throughout my sobbing.
Eventually, the tears could no longer flow and her hands went up to my face to pull it back for study. Her thumbs began wiping the tear-stained cheeks dry, but I didn't let go. I was terrified she might hate me for what I'd done and wanted to enjoy this moment of kindness for as long as possible. Once an acceptable amount of moisture had been removed from my face, she placed a hand either side of my head and her golden eyes searched mine.
"Let me drive you home," she said. "We'll talk on the way."
A/N: So, there you have it, their first kiss! Yes, I stole some dialogue from the stitching scene in New Moon, but, it's such a great moment between the pair, why not use it? As always, I thank you all for the wonderful reviews and hope you enjoyed. I'll have the next update out as soon as possible. Until then, adios! :)