MEMOIRS OF HER SCENT

by

Amaterasu Kinesi

(EDITED —MAY. 18, 2019)

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PROLOGUE

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"Jasper?"

Like a martyr's prayer, the sound of my name forms and tumbles off her tongue. Maybe I'm imagining it, but there's an underlying caress to my name as it falls from her lips, the hint of a supplicating sigh its cocoon. As her voice carries and reaches my sensitive ears, I am enraptured by the sight of her lips and pink tongue dashing out to wet them uncertainly.

"…Please…"

Mesmerized by the sight, I am filled with gratifying satisfaction at hearing just how good my name sounds falling from those beguiling lips. Only, I am hyperaware of the short distance between us and how easy it would be for me to cover it and...

"Is that you?"

Thoroughly distracted from my thoughts yet again and feeling helpless, I watch as her tongue flickers out of her mouth again and imprints a slow, tantalizing wet path along the seam of her plumb lower lip this time and have to bite back a possessive growl. Alarmed by my visceral reaction to her I close my eyes, attempting to regain some semblance of control and stave off the temptation that is she.

"Are you there?"

"Jasper?" In a voice that is withered and small, just barely above a whisper and raspy with welling tears or the screams that tore through her and woke her from her night terrors, she calls my name yet again. The desolate sound causes a dichotomy of warring emotions to bombard and overpower my psyche. Letting go of my reservations, I exhale, and a tremor leaves me.

"Please…"

Despite the low decibel of her supplication, I can clearly hear the barely controlled desperation in the chords of her steady voice. In the stillness of this night, or any night, there's little I cannot hear or miss. Therefore, there isn't a chance that I would fail to hear the sound of her voice. She should know this.

In fact, I'm positive she knows that I can always hear her and, thus, awaits my response with bated breath, barely daring to hope. Running trembling fingers through my hair, I inhale and in doing so test my control before I can bring myself to say anything. Her scent is overpowering but the knowledge that she needs me gives me the strength to push such thoughts aside.

"I'm here," I finally say, quietly assuring her of my presence. Indulging the learned errors per retrospection, I make sure that my voice is slightly louder than hers had just been. By doing so, I've guaranteed that she will hear my voice and avoid scaring her.

"Jasper!" The instant she hears my voice a surge of awareness runs through her and I am gratified to experience the drastic change her emotions undergo as she recognizes the sound of my voice and reaches out a hand before her—the motion assessing and searching to find a helping hand in her prison of perpetual night. There's no fear in her. Only hope, growing and spiraling, almost dizzyingly.

Acknowledging that I despairingly need to reach her and be at her side now, I have no choice in the matter but to act in accordance to my overpowering need; I move. Silently I hope and pray that bridging this gap between us will not endanger her to the crudeness of my inner demon.

A moot point, really—if she isn't in danger of my demon, I alone am as dangerous as a one-man army. Actually, if I'm being honest, I should probably be walking away from her right now. Or at the very least warning her to stay away from me and insist she sees how dangerous I am. But my will isn't strong enough to do either.

Instead, the very idea of no longer seeing her or being next to her wounds me. Rather, I manage an involuntary step in her direction as she shifts in my direction. Besides, I reason, she already knows about all the dangers that follow as a result of being involved with my kind.

If it helps you deal, my demon snorts its derision. Always mocking, it adds; She's still prey.

In spite of all my reservations and previous intentions, I ignore all rational thought and take another step in her direction and then another, closing the small distance between us at a slow pace and stealthily making my way across the darkened room. Once I make it to her side of the room without incident or without lifting the cloak of darkness shrouding the room and concealing my presence, I contemplate my options once again.

After a small hesitation I do away with caution and approach her, by which time I have tested and strengthened my fickle self-control enough to coerce my demon into temporary submission and keep it at bay. Of course, this achievement is only a temporary and grudging truce, but this small victory will have to do for the time being.

"Come here…"

Unable to reign in my desire to touch her a moment longer, I blatantly and without further hesitation reach out for her in my hurry to make contact. Aiming to take a hold of her hand, still trying to reach for what she cannot see, I seize her hand and grasp it in mine.

"You're here." Gasping, she shivers at my sudden touch but does not shy away from me or my unnatural coldness. Neither do I retreat. Instead, safety and gratitude dance and twine like butterfly stitches across her humming skin and invitingly fuse onto me as her nearness and all too human warmth surrounds me and she welcomes my touch—yearns for my touch, it calms her turmoil.

It feels like home. She feels like home.

It will be alright. I must tell myself, in the hopes of finding some measure of reassurance. Hoping I'm right, I twine her warm fingers with my own, granite and cold, and lean into her warmth. Closer still, but never close enough.

"I'm here," I sigh, this time against the shell of her ear. And then, I smile. Placid contentment envelops me when she shivers as my cool breath caresses and kisses her warm skin—like I so aspire and desire to do with my lips at the moment. How far have I fallen, I'm even jealous of my breath!

Disgusted with myself, I focus on the here and now to distract my wandering thoughts. Instinctively, just as she becomes tangibly and visibly relaxed in my presence, I reach out for a read on her altered mood and consequently get a superficial taste of her newest torrent of emotions.

"Jasper…" she whispers.

Next, I hear her small sigh of relief. The gentle exhale carries her warm, sweet scent to my attention straightaway and heedlessly, systematically proceeds to intoxicate me. Momentarily, my mind and inebriated senses become clouded with the heady, saccharine scent that's wholly her.

"I'm here…" I echo, regaining some control.

"Jasper, I… What are you-?" Heedless of the danger I pose or the foolishness of my actions, I twirl her body in my arms until her back is to me and press flush against her, desperately needing to feel more of her warmth and nearness surrounding me.

Nothing could ever feel better or compare to this stolen moment. Getting to hold and care for her, I understand that I was made for this. To love her and to hold her in my arms. In this borrowed instance, as I give into this madness, I delude myself into believing that I am doing this for her sake and that her warm body is earnestly asking for my cool embrace. This way, I find I still have hope.

In this instant, I know where I belong and why I exist.

It is for this moment.

For now, just this once, it is okay… Okay to pretend that she's mine and I am hers.

"Shh…" I hush, gathering her in my arms before the moment takes hold of me completely and gives me away. Moving us to her bed I sit on the edge and selfishly keep her seated on my lap, unwilling to separate from her so soon.

"Thank you," she whispers, and her sincerity envelops me.

"Thank you," she whispers. Her sincerity envelops me as she gracefully turns in my lap to face me, shifting until her knees straddle my hips and her nearness thrums between us in the allure of night. Pushing aside all thoughts of why I can't desire the woman in my arms the way I already do, I hold her close against my chest and she allows it.

"I'm here, always here," I assure her, but it sounds more like a promise. Emboldened, our embrace stretches into a little infinity as I continue to hold her zealously and possessively. Just the way I know she wants, needs me to hold her on nights like this one.

"Thank you, Jasper," she says, but she doesn't stop there… Wrapping her arms daintily around the nape of my neck, she surprises me yet again and draws me near her bosom with another breath. With a feather's touch her fingers start up a lazy pattern along the knotted column of my neck and I completely still, lest I tremble from her innocent, comforting caresses.

"There's not need to thank me."

Surrendering without qualms, I know I am hers—I don't even care anymore that she isn't mine or can't ever be. As my forehead rests against her shoulder, she further ignites this consuming desire that I have for her affection, which continues to grow and flare as she nurtures it without conscious thought.

"I beg to differ," she refutes. I smile and saying nothing, listening to her breathe and enjoying the sound of her thumping heartbeat.

Selfishly, I dare to wish and hope for the impossible. Wanting nothing more out of my existence than to remain in this moment with her without ever having to let go if possible. It is such an egotistic desire for me to entertain that I am appalled at myself for having let such a thought take root.

However, this is something I cannot and will not allow myself to dwell on for too long, because I cannot put her through the travesty that yielding to temptation will bring upon us. Undoubtedly, truly, I am the one who yearns for her warm embrace. Achingly so... She just does not know it; she cannot know.

No matter what, she cannot find out about my affections. Too much would be at stake.

I don't deserve her; I am the undeserving.

The thought resonates within me, fleeting and intruding. It is an echoing and aching truth that I can't help but despise when being reminded of my own worthlessness. However, it is a truth I find hard to ignore. And thus acknowledge, knowing I must lest I forget myself.

When I chance inhaling her perfume and take a cautious sniff, I discover that she smells as lovely as ever and instantly, I feel my demon stir. My inner demon's pleading cries proceed to jar at my self-control, groveling for a taste of her wonderful and aromatic elixir.

Gritting my teeth, I aim to come out the victorious one. Momentarily closing my eyes, I proceed to try and bear through the worst of the power play that is about to take place between myself and my inner demon in the following instant.

A taste… Just a taste, it'd be better than nothing, it coerces fervidly. One little taste will quench the scorching thirst. This thirst that chars the column of my throat with every inhale and exhale will finally find its reprieve. The price is but a taste. A single taste will suffice... Give in. Let us hunt. HUNT, HUNT, HUNT!

It is a struggle, but I don't let up, not until I feel my demon acquiesce and become a less unnerving nuance and I am once again in control.

"What's wrong?" I ask, concerned. The words sound choked, to my surprise, due to the prolonged silence that seems to wordlessly hold us in a timeless moment. Almost desperately, I pray for her not to start asking questions or notice my blunder and call me out on it. However, my concerns are unfounded.

It must be because of her tears and the overwhelming flow of crippling emotions emanating from her to me, I wouldn't react this way otherwise. I rationalize as her tears fall hot and fast down her cheeks and onto my shirt at my show of concern. And that's what I end up telling myself. Though, between you and me, I'm not entirely convinced of that being the case.

"I don't want to talk about it." Her muffled response, which feels scorching against my chest—my chest, wet and stained with her tears—holds me captive. "Just hold me, Jasper, please?" she pleads.

As if she ever needs to beg me to hold her. I mentally scoff.

There is so much sadness piled up in that fragile body of hers that it boggles my mind. For one thing, I cannot even presume to begin to comprehend how she is able to stand on her own two feet and still get through her functionary day with such oppressive turmoil hindering her emotions. Actually, it is a marvel that she can continue without so much as crumbling to pieces the minute she wakes up or steps out of the house and the cold Washington rain pelts against her pale skin under the weight of it all.

For that, I admire her. And because I admire her, I can't deny her anything.

"Of course," I oblige.

"Closer. Hold me closer, Jasper, please…"

At her request, I hold her closer still and she moors herself onto me, gripping the front of my shirt with her fists as if attempting to absorb my stability for her own. Practically crushing her against my chest, I croon soothing words against her skin and curse Edward for continuously making her cry with his extensive absence.

She shudders with her next sob and suddenly, I find myself wishing that somehow, someway I could hold her closer still. Just so that I can spare her all her demons and maybe find a way to conquer her fears. All I can do for now, however, is to try and calm her with my unnatural power, something that seems to have no effect on her at the moment.

"Is this close enough for you?" I tease in a valiant effort to lighten her mood.

"Almost," she responds with a small teasing smile in her voice.

Is her despair so great that not even I can help her?

This knowledge hurts more than the fact that she is not mine for the take and never will be. I want to shelter her, cry with her and for her… If only my eyes could overflow and spill with sorrow, I would cry tears of blood right here and now in her stead.

"How about now?"

Unquestionably, I feel helpless. As I hold her, between the sounds of her even breathing and the beat of her previously erratic heartbeat, I begin to hear her heart thud in a strong, pulsing legato against her sternum. Rippling steadily against my chest, her heartbeat continues to drum without breaking its rhythmic and hypnotic pattern.

"Much better," she whispers. "Thank you."

Consumed by the wonderful feeling of her strong heartbeat, I accept it as if it were my own and find myself lost to the idea. Easily imagining that my own heart is steadily beating in tandem with hers, I capture and reposes a shred of my once lost humanity.

Allowing myself the privilege, I trail my knuckles along her jaw and neck in a trance, then stop so as not to run my fingertips over her lovely clavicles.

This touch I can't allow myself, the sentiment and action too intimate for the role I'm playing, that of a friend. It would divulge too much, and probably give away my well-guarded secret.

"Not at all." Sighing silently, I move my hands away from the warmth of her skin and place them innocuously around her waist, instead. Startled by the unexpected move, she shifts in my lap and I still, not even daring to breathe.

Glancing up at me, she looks into my eyes and examines my face, frowning slightly at whatever kind of look I have on my face before touching her fingertips lightly to my cheek in question. Closing my eyes to savor the touch, I let out the breath I've been holding with a tremor and collect myself, relieved.

"You smell scrumptious, darlin'," I murmur lamely, prolonging opening my eyes and inevitably having to face the look in her eyes, which I imagine filled with disapproval because of my touch. Meanwhile, I think I hear her snort with suppressed laughter at my comment and smirk involuntarily.

"Well, I can't help that…" she teases.

Feeling the kiss of her skin skimming along my jawline, I open my eyes tentatively. When I dare to look into her eyes again and peer into them, she graces me with the smallest of faint smiles. She looks stunningly breathtaking and my breath catches as I admire her.

"Suppose not," I breathe, barely managing the words. When I smile back at her, her fingers mindlessly glide down the taut chords of my neck aimlessly. Retracing her motions, she shakes her head at my incorrigible response and burys her face against the nape of my neck once again, chuckling lightly at my expense.

Consequently, her body quivers deliciously with laughter. The innocuous action causes me to inadvertently voice a groan of anticipation and frustration before I can suppress it. Something that I couldn't be helped, since I can now feel the distracting heat of her kissable mouth against the nook of my neck.

The feel of her lips against my neck is branding-hot, at once bringing to my cognizance their moist succulence, pulsing with mouthwatering blood. Ready for the take, if I were ever so inclined to give into temptation and take what she hasn't offered consciously.

"Jasper?" she questions quizzically.

"Nothing. It's nothing," I assure her with an almost defeated sigh.

Unconvinced, she shifts in my lap, yet again, and pulls back a bit to better meet my gaze and the traitorous moon decides to appear from behind her cloud at that very moment to help her in her quest. Skin aglow and gloriously bathed in moonlight, she fixes me with those beseeching large and dark eyes of hers.

"If you're sure…" As she looks into my eyes and reaches for my soul, I find that averting my eyes is an impossibility as she gazes back at me with obvious skepticism. Uncertainly, I smile at her and shrug, as she shakes her head at me. (She does that a lot when looking at me, I should know.) A sure sign that tells me that she still believes I'm incorrigible and maybe I am, at least when it comes to her.

Though I know I should put some distance between us, before it becomes too dangerous for her, I can't bring myself to do so. After all, I am right where I want to be. Instead, I take the liberty of pulling her against my chest once again and hold her closer than before.

Thankfully, she doesn't protest. In fact, she seems to relish in this turn of events and reciprocates, burrowing herself further under my skin with a complacent sigh as I lay us down. If I didn't know any better, with our limbs so intertwined atop of her bed, I'd say that she wants us to merge into one entity.

Knowing it isn't healthy to wonder as I do and that there are questions I can't ask, I still do and silently ask:

My sweet, brave, and innocent Darlin', don't you know that you shouldn't be kind to me?

"Don't be kind to me," I plead in warning and my demon roars in disapproval, only to feel her frown at my words.

Given the coldness that encompasses my very existence, Your warmth is something I can no longer unlearn. Something else, when I see you, shame fills me each time I accept your touch and kindness. Even so, in my shamelessness, can I still breathe, exist, and find solace only in you?

"What do you mean?" she asks, propping her elbows on my chest to glance down at me and the answers to her question fleet through my mind but I don't voice them. Her gaze is troubled and confused as my silence stretches on. Still, she smiles at me tentatively.

Darlin' make this easy… You should know better than to smile at me, smile at me like that. You don't understand, you should never know, how easy you are to need… I wouldn't know where to start; I know who I am, when I'm alone. But when I'm with you… I'm someone else.

After all, you are the woman I yearn to claim. My Bella… My beloved. Recently, every time I look at you and touch you, I feel a growing sense of inadequacy and this yearning only continues to grow. Would things be easier of there was a right way? Darlin' there's no right way for us…

However, almost deafening in its audacity, another plea rises nearly to my lips:

Darlin', please, try to love me. My love will never die.

But I say none of these fleeting thoughts or desires. Instead, I summon some courage and finally answer, saying, "Your kind of kindness is something neither of us can afford, Darlin'."