Edward should have known his resolve would crack. He'd been thrown in a pit, strung out on human blood, bitten by a werewolf, mauled by a headless body and kissed by the woman who should be his. Given the demon circus that was this past week, it didn't take a genius to figure out that his tenuous hold on self control would vanish with one slender hand on his thigh.

His plan had been simple: board the boat and then shut down anything that wasn't an emotional confession from Bella – and yes, maybe that made him a teen-aged girl bent on hearing how much she was loved, but he deserved some sort of declaration. If he thought Bella was his mate, and Bella had had even a flicker of the same thought once, didn't that make it true? So he needed to stick to the plan, make her talk the moment the ship was out to sea, refuse to let her distract him.

The morning had held no nasty surprises. He'd pocketed Bella's pendant when he'd seen it glinting in the dirt, and they'd hunted sambar before settling in on the beach. Ginnie's mouth had been quiet, even if her mind had not, while Bella stood still so long that the wind-blown sand buried her ankles. Edward had chucked hunks of sodden driftwood back to the sea until the beach was bare. Then he'd seen the ship through the haze.

"About time," Ginnie said. "Swear to the Gods, my denim is starting to bleach."

The boat was nothing like he'd expected. He'd had visions of the three of them and the pilot huddled together in barely more than a dinghy, but Demetri had shelled out a fortune if he'd bought this dark blue yacht.

"Stay here," Bella said.

He watched Bella swim out, because honestly when didn't he watch her, but before she reached the yacht, he knew it was their ride; there was a garish, white shimmer on the deck that could only be a vampire in the sun.

"C'mon," he told Ginnie. She must have seen it too, because she'd kicked off her shoes and clutched them by the straps as she hit the water at a run, thinking of a massive red and orange tiled shower that was probably part of her apartment back home. "Where do you live anyway?" he asked, but she was already underwater, and he could probably just lift it from her thoughts later.

The boat was even more impressive up close, and her captain had to be at least six feet tall, with a salt and pepper braid that reached down to her thighs. She had a big laugh and little laugh lines around the eyes to match.

"Don't be so hard on Demetri when you see him," the woman was telling Bella. "Whatever you said had him scrambling to buy my baby outright, but she's not for sale." She ran her hand across the white railing. "Demetri could have kept searching, but how many of our kind are hanging around Mumbai with boats for sale? Besides, all you need is safe passage, right, and I'm on my way home anyway." She looked over at Edward and Ginnie dripping on her deck and crossed to them, shaking both their hands. "Mary Smith. Glad to know you. So…" She turned to Bella. "Are we good? I'll take you up through the Suez and west across the Mediterranean, and then once we refuel, it'll be a straight shot to the states."

"How long will it take?" Ginnie asked.

"Depends on the wind and weather. Somewhere around sixteen days."

What difference did the time make? They were alive and free and Edward had Bella back again. He poked his head into the main cabin and spotted the wheel, or whatever it was called, and a door that led him to two back bedrooms, one of which had a pile of clothes on the bed. Mary's then. There was a third, tiny bedroom in the deck above. Just enough space for the big talk he hoped to have, though its relative privacy was a lie when Ginnie and Mary would be able to hear everything.

He jumped over the railing from the top deck to the lower one and realized they were talking about him.

"... so you'll almost have to sit on him through the canal and then for much of the Mediterranean. Lots of boats will pass us," Mary said. "Close enough for him to scent human blood."

"It won't be a problem," Bella told her.

She hadn't said, I can control him, or worse yet, l won't let him do anything stupid. Just, It won't be a problem. He turned his face up to the sun so that his smile would look like a squint. Mary's thoughts gave away her doubts about Edward behaving, but it didn't matter.

"Well, we're clear from here to Ethiopia, so we don't have a problem yet," Mary said. "And of course we'll stop so he can hunt."

"Ginnie and I will hunt. We'll bring him deer, or whatever is close at hand."

Gold eyes were the sign of an odd, sentimental madness, as far as Mary was concerned. She couldn't stifle a snort when Demetri had first explained their diet. Now, faced with Bella, she chose to say nothing. Despite her cheery exterior, she already wished she'd turned this job down, and she'd have plenty to say to Demetri the next time she saw him. Apparently he hadn't warned her that it was uncomfortable to be around Bella, but just her thought reminded Edward of how different his own reaction was.

He came around and put a hand on Bella's wrist. "I need to talk to you."

"Now?"

He reminded her of a gristmill the way he circled around one thought all the time.

"A gristmill? Seriously, Bella, you're going to need some new analogies."

Give it a few thousand years, Edward, and see how much of the world is familiar to you.

"No age talk," he said. "You said you'd listen once we were at sea."

For a moment her mind jumped so quickly he couldn't follow. Was it fear that made her imagine diving into the sea or finding a reason to talk to Mary again? She marched past him and took the ladder to the top deck. When he followed her into the wood paneled cabin, she was already sitting on the edge of the narrow cot.

"Alright," she said. "Talk." Her arms were crossed, and she looked like him in one of his moods, all prickly dread and stubborn refusal. He took a seat on the floor and leaned against the only exit.

"Why did you come to India for me?"

That wasn't the opener she'd been expecting, and he caught the momentary image of Carlisle in her mind.

"Was it for his sake?" Edward asked.

"You were in my care, mine to protect…" She dropped her arms and pulled her feet up underneath her. "Mine to avenge if you were dead."

"Yours in more ways than you realize."

She shook her head. "Two years ago you were human. Only two months ago you didn't want anything to do with me. You threw me against a wall."

"I told you I was sorry. I can't –"

"Actually, you didn't."

"What? But I…" He shifted forward the few feet between the door and the foot of the bed so that his head was level with her knees. "I am sorry. I've thought it many times. I should have told you. I know I wasn't easy to get along with at the start."

She reached out to push her fingers through his hair, and he could hear the yearning when she thought, I want… but it trailed off into silence. "I didn't mean… I just wanted to remind you that your life is shifting like sand. You can't be sure your feelings –"

"Don't tell me what I feel." He was up and moving forward so fast that she leaned back against the bed between his hands. "There's bloodlust too. Are you going to tell me that's just a phase?"

"It will weaken as you grow but no, you'll never be free of it."

"You're my mate. I'll never be free of you either. I don't want to be."

"Edward." His name was barely an exhalation. "The idea that every one of us has a mate, it's just a myth."

"But I heard you. You thought about me that way. In front of Enkidu."

"Your life was in danger."

"So, what then? It doesn't count?"

"That's not… Look, I'll admit that I've wondered why you're different, why the fear doesn't get to you so much. Less and less, it seems. That's never happened before."

She slid out from between his arms until her back hit the headboard. Not wanting to lose the proximity, Edward crawled up until he was next to her.

"But," she said, "that doesn't mean there isn't some other explanation that would make more sense than this idea of mates. We can live for an eternity, as far as I know. Why would there be one person meant for you who's born thousands of years apart? What if Carlisle hadn't found you? What if-"

"He did find me, and I'm here now."

"But…" She lay her hand across his thigh. She didn't drag her nails or rub back and forth. She just lay it flat against his still damp and filthy jeans. He probably disgusted her, but no, he didn't get that from her mind. She shifted between thoughts of fear and desire like a flame guttering, but at least she wasn't putting off a vibe that would have had their captain curling into a fetal ball down below.

"I think you know what I want," he said. "What do you want?" He caught her thought even as she opened her mouth to speak, and he interrupted. "Not what you think you should want. The truth. If you really don't want me with you, then there's nothing to talk about. I'll go back to Carlisle's and you won't have to look after me anymore." He let out a cracked sound that masqueraded as a laugh. "If nothing else, I think I've learned enough to not destroy the family."

He'd given her the opening to let him down easy. The way his stomach had felt when he'd gone over the cliff near her cabin… he had a very good reminder of it now.

"Or," he continued, "maybe you do have feelings for me, whether you want to or not."

Her mind slipped away from him. She went so still that she was no longer breathing.

"Give me something," he said. "Come back. Please."

She drew her hand up his thigh to his hip where her thumb chafed across the bone above the frayed waistband of his jeans. When she turned toward him, she set her closed mouth against his jaw and then his temple – small, puckered kisses in slow succession, as though she had to check his response to every advance. He couldn't fathom why she treated him like a bomb, though he did tremble with the effort not to twist over and pin her. Nothing was worth the risk that she might stop her exploration. Her touches felt familiar, as though he'd always known she'd be like this, maddeningly attentive to every brush against skin, every strand of his hair. All that focus turned on him, like a magnifying glass sharpening light into heat. He was hard just from the languorous touches and teasing breaths, but he told himself he wasn't going to demand more – he was always the one demanding more. He let his head bump the headboard behind, and with a broken sound, he gave himself over to her careful fingers, letting her do whatever she wanted.

What she wanted was to move down to his neck and across his collar bone, testing every response and memorizing the feel of him. The salt water had sloughed off the dried blood and earth, but he still wondered if he was clean enough for her. In her mind there was just the feel of bone and muscle beneath pale skin that shivered at her touch, of healed ribs and the cool zipper of his jeans easing down in measured steps that had him beating his feet into the mattress so that the rest of him could stay still. He'd imagined that when things went this far, his hands would be all over her, even in her, but she seemed content to set the tempo and map out his skin like so much territory to explore, and anyway there was something incredible in holding back, in not trying to get his own way, because his jeans were undone now, and she pressed her palm to the fabric before lifting his erection out, almost pulsing in her hand while the crease in the denim bit into his balls and made them ache.

"Uhnf," he said. It was meant to be a word, something about Yes, and For pity's sake, but nothing coherent was making its way out of his mouth. Thankfully, he had the presence of mind to reach a hand out and wrap around her neck so he could kiss her on the mouth for the first time since the fight for their lives. He had faith that he could do this much without flying apart and pounding into her, finishing this intensity between them in a few seconds. This kiss was the one place he took the lead – eyes wide open, though hers were shut – and it was pushy and rough and wet, with his tongue driving into her mouth and leaving no room for her to push back. It was probably an awful kiss. It spoke of everything he wanted to wrest from her. If there had been a way for him to take attachment and affection by force, he probably would have. As it was, he was almost grateful that he was unable to bend her to his needs. She would love him or she wouldn't of her own free will. One day he'd know the answer, but right now her fingers started a light movement up and down his cock.

"Don't stop, don'tstop."

She thought his skin felt soft, while all he felt was that he was hard enough to hurt, but she kept trailing lazy fingers up and down with no pressure.

"So nice," she whispered.

Picnics were nice. Ducklings, bouquets… This was nothing like nice. Every muscle was pulled tight, and he was caught between the reality of her hands finally on him and the need to gamble for more.

"Please." It came out like a whine, drawn out on the vowels, and she looked up to his face for a moment, unsure of what he wanted.

"Everything. Anything you can give me. Whatever," he said.

She blinked at him – even that was slow – and leaned forward to flick her tongue along his bicep, his chest, his taut stomach held tight in anticipation. He thought he'd die like a butterfly on a pin while she learned the taste of his shoulder, the way he shivered when she ran her lips along his chest. When she leaned down and flicked her tongue across his erection, she elicited a shout from him so loud that it startled her backwards.

"There are things I don't need to hear." Ginnie's muffled call came from the deck below, and he had a quick fantasy of pitching her as far as he could out onto the waves. Maybe he could make her skip like a stone.

Bella's look was a question.

"Fine, I'm fine," he said. "I just. It's been years since anyone's touched me, and even that I can hardly remember. Some girl near the university who had a van with carpeting in the back, and oh shit, I did not just say that."

Bella smile could brighten anything, even this narrow, wood paneled cave of a room. Even the inside of his body felt alight. "Alright," she said. She leaned down again, and this time she took him in her mouth.

"Oh fuck, oh fuck." He whispered it so low that even Bella probably couldn't hear.

Her teeth grazed him. She held him still in her mouth until he was ready to thrust his hands into her hair and tug, but then she started to move, and he burrowed his fingers right into the mattress and thought about Ginnie being close by, wondered if Bella had done this for Enkidu - any thought revolting enough to keep himself from coming immediately. If he could hold out two minutes, he'd count it as a success. He chanced a look down at her. She'd pulled her long hair back and around to one shoulder. She had her eyes closed, and she was trembling, and thank God, because if she was going to be calm about this, he would have given up any hope.

If I could have… Yes, she thought.

"What?" he managed to ask, but she didn't answer – just wrapped her fingers around him while her mouth continued to move up and down, and he could feel his balls tighten. There was no slowing this thing. It was like tumbling down the stairs. He threw his head back, cracking the headboard again and came with a shout, and the shout went on and on, because she didn't pull back from him until it was all over. He could feel her swallow again and again, and the raw intimacy almost hurt. He wondered if that's what she wanted him to feel, how much was on the line for her as well, but she couldn't know that he felt emptied, couldn't read his mind or heart.

"Jesus," he said.

She pulled back and pressed the back of her hand to her mouth before meeting his eyes. "I didn't meet him, but I believe he's more often associated with chastity, charity…"

"Are you... did you just make a joke?"

She leaned in and kissed him, and he could taste himself, bitter on her mouth.

I love you, he thought. You're going to rip me to shreds if you don't love me back.

"You're so serious, Edward." She put a hand to the side of his face. "Everything has to be now." She leaned her forehead against his and sighed.

"Can I take it that you guys are done?" Ginnie shouted.

He was going to put her in a box and ship her back to Bat. It must have shown on his face.

"I'll talk to her," Bella said, and she stood up, straightening her shirt.

He was still caught in a tide of torpid satisfaction and hadn't so much as lifted his head, but he managed to say, "It's me you need to talk to."

She had the door half way opened, and she didn't turn around.

"I'm trying. It's not that I don't…"

"Don't what?"

"I've been on my own for so long. And if I let myself believe that there's a chance for us to…"

He waited this time for her to say more, but after a solid minute she was still silhouetted in the doorway.

I tried to show you, Edward. Don't make me say this right now. Let's go home where I know who I am, and there's no one else but us.

She slipped out of the room.

For a moment he thought she'd have to come back and make some sense of all that, but he was on his own. He kicked the wall, and heard Mary shout, "That's enough damage to my boat up there."

Below him, Ginnie claimed her commentary was only turnabout for Bella walking in on her with Demetri, and Bella was too preoccupied to argue much. Edward lay listening to them until Ginnie dissolved into snickers and offered to paint Bella's nails with polish she'd found in the bathroom cabinet.

The bathroom. He wandered into the tiny cubicle and soaped off the week's worth of frustration and shame that came from being a Volturi pawn in a pit. If Bella hadn't come to get him… well, it was just a good thing for his sanity that he'd never doubted she would. He toweled off and realized he had no other clothes, so he scrubbed the jeans in the shower and threw them on wet. He wore that and slung a white towel over his shoulder, then went down to the main cabin where Mary stood at the helm.

"You're quite the pampered boy," she said with a smile. Her eyes were still on the waves.

There was a time when just that sentence would have sent him into a rage, but she was only joking, amused that it had been his shouts only, not Bella's, that she'd heard. He didn't feel like he needed to explain himself to her.

"I know what I want, at least."

She nodded, still not looking his way. "There are folks who live centuries without knowing that much."

"But what I want isn't mine, so maybe that's worse."

"Better to know where you're going, even if you're lost at the moment. Otherwise, you're just adrift."

"Are we talking about the sea now?"

"She watches you all the time," Mary said.

"Yeah, well, you watch the sea. It's not that big of a boat. We've all got to look somewhere."

"I love the sea."

"Good for you."

She shook her head, and thought about the perils of life with a newborn, and if he didn't hear the word 'newborn' again for a hundred years, it would still be too soon.

"Do you want to take the wheel?"

He didn't, but Bella was still talking to Ginnie, so he was at loose ends. Mary showed him what to do – it was almost nothing really – and left him alone for a while. He tried not to listen to anyone's mind, though Ginnie's thoughts would sometimes break through. He watched the waves and tried to figure out how to get what he wanted from Bella, because it was more, always more, and he didn't want to beg.

Technically Mary is not an original character. Flip to the back of Breaking Dawn, and she's on the list of the American nomads. In canon, she has the brilliant line, "And me," when she agrees with Peter, Charlotte and Randall that she hasn't decided whether to stand with the Cullens against the Volturi.

I did a little mind-numbing research, but I've been on a boat only once in my adult life (briefly taking the helm of a sailboat that once belonged to Errol Flynn) so please forgive any mistakes.

Next chapter toward the end of the week.

All the usual characters, settings, etc. are the property of S. Meyer. Original characters and plot are mine. No copyright infringement is intended. May not be reprinted without express written permission.