AN: Thank you to the reviews from acw1 and TINE! I appreciate all input, both the positive and (even though I have yet to get any yet ::crosses fingers::) negative. I am still new to this fanfiction world. It is an addicting pleasure.

I still own nothing more than a copy of the series.

I am also still editor-less, so if there is anything that can be corrected, and I am informed, it will be corrected.

EPOV

I could feel the disappointment of Bella's voice leaking through the phone. The minx, my minx, was planning something, probably with the help of the other two, if not three, overly aggressive women. Next week, the Alaskan girls will become involved, just to make the situation even more awkward. I cannot help but wonder if they will also get the males involved. I also pondered how much easier dealing with men would be That would be a wonderfully entertaining conversation.

"Why aren't you sleeping with Bella?"

"I'm gay. You can now call me Eduardo, the Flaming Fang!" I would then smack Emmett's backside, French kiss Jasper, and dance out of whatever room the event occurred in while singing "And All That Jazz." I laughed at the mental image. I would not be surprise if one of the girls turned to the others and held out a hand.

Told ya so, that will be twenty bucks.

I was ten minutes from the hunt sight we often escaped to Canada to. It was Carlisle's haven. I had a small cabin on the outskirts of the grounds, a sofa and piano being the only furnishings. I walked to the piano, and just started to play. At first, the music was triumphant, full of Bach. It then spawned on its own to a dark, yet sensual piece. I could see a pale, Nordic girl running from a dark, sinister man. The woman aged, the music grew regretful, and the man remained foul. He struck her, for all to see. He then strolled away without a hint of sorrow; the woman, now an older lady, remained. Her eyes were clouded, but refused to shed tears. The opera concluded, and the act was familiar.

Memory stirred, a human memory. The tale was one my father told me. It was of his mother and father, my paternal Gran and Gramps. Gramps was not the nicest of men, he did not support any thoughts of suffrage. Father recounted one story of his youth once and only once. Gramps saw Gran expressing thoughts on how she would love to vote once, just once, so she could have a small voice in paving the nation's history. Gramps flipped, went on an argument on 'women belong in the kitchen,' and 'if the Virgin Mary did not need a say in where to stay that holy night, you do not need a say on what my taxes are going towards.' He then struck her twice, just those two times.

Father told me Gramps apologized for weeks after the incident, and he never did it again. Yet, it was enough to cause Father to lose all respect for him. It caused my father to enforce strict rules on my etiquette on the respect of women. It was why I held open doors, stood when one would rise to leave the room, and refused to force Bella to perform sexually for me in any manner until we were wed.

Even after any service, after she forfeits her mortality for me, I will not raise my hand at her, in role-play or otherwise. I can see myself getting too enthralled by her pinking skin, and having to cart Bella's broken body to Carlisle and Esme. I would receive the scorn, the disappointment, the fact I failed them. They believed I would be able to take care of a girl they could not wait to call 'daughter.'

I saw a jackal, Jasper's favorite prey. You know what, I said to myself, if he can control himself, I can too. I thought of the martial arts and meditation he began to study decades ago, at Carlisle's suggestion. It had helped him develop control over the urge to hunt. It allowed Jasper to grow, to return to a fragile state of humanity.

I was not a fan of jackals, they were far too tough for the preference of my jaws. I caught the scent of another family favorite, a basic brown bear. I would eat to appease my one desire, and then would return to Forks and appease the innocence of the other, the desire to simply be with Isabella Swan.

____

It was almost dawn when I went to the never-locked window. Charlie was already awake and preparing for work. I slipped in nonetheless, risk be damned.

If I could asphyxiate, I would. I saw Bella asleep, coverless, and pants less. She wore a satin night shirt and matching boy short briefs. I felt lust curdle in my damned soul, and the memories of tasty blood and belief in self-control fled.

But then I saw her shiver from the cold of the open window, and the personal desires regressed into a lockbox. Covering Bella up was priority, groping her was not. I gently rolled her to unfold the blankets, then wrapped them around her body, allowing myself to ogle her briefly though. I laid down behind her, not touching her quite yet. I only needed to wait a few moments, until the sun broke through the clouds on the horizon. I gaped at the gold painting her pale features for the briefest period, not allowing my diamond skin to distract my vision from pure art, until the clouds conquered the sky yet again.

I took the deepest breath, and exhaled. I then wrapped her in my arms loosely. Despite being asleep, she sighed in content, and cuddled into me.

"I can do this," I murmured to both her, and myself.

End note: I hope you liked! The tale will get dirty very, very soon, so you are forewarned. However, no promise on date of next update. Work, physics, and epilepsy inhibit the creative juices when the medication actually allows me to sleep.