Notes: As always, big thanks to some of my favorite ladies: ContentedTwiCow, Jules, SunflowerFanfiction, and AshesAshes. Stellar beta work as always!

Not gonna lie, this is a chapter I really loved as I wrote it. Hope you enjoy it just as much!

Chapter 4

Edward was still perched on the rooftop when the first pinkish hint of sunrise broke through the haze over the city. Startled, he jerked to attention, scrambling over the roof ledge and down the fire escape to the window. He ducked inside the building, petrified of the rising sun.

His heart wasn't racing in his chest, his lungs weren't heaving with frantic breaths, and yet the terror in him was no less real. He flattened himself against the wall between the windows. It was the only spot he thought the sunlight might not reach. His eyes were screwed shut, as if not seeing the light might make it harmless.

He had no idea how long he stood there, utter terror consuming him. He jerked when he felt a soft touch on his forehead. Bella's familiar scent broke through his panic and he became aware that she was murmuring soothingly to him. "It's okay, Edward, it won't hurt you. You're okay."

He felt the frantic desperation drain out of him and he leaned into her touch for a moment. Her soft hands on his face were soothing as she crooned to him. "I'm sorry, Edward, I shouldn't have left. I never should have left you like that when you needed me."

Cold fury returned at the reminder that this was all her fault to begin with, and he shoved his way past her, stepping into the pale, morning light. "What else haven't you told me?" he snarled

He was so angry at her, so enraged at the fact that he was at her mercy. He knew nothing about what it meant to be a vampire. No idea what he could do, or what he was vulnerable to. Edward felt helpless, an emotion he was extremely uncomfortable with. He didn't like how out of control he felt, how volatile his emotions were. He didn't like this life he'd been dropped into.

She stood there, frozen for a moment before she blinked, and walked over to the window. She spoke softly. "I don't even know where to start."

"Well, what do you usually do?" Edward asked, irritation lacing his voice as he crossed his arms across his chest.

She turned her head to look at him. "What do you mean? What I usually do …? I don't understand."

"Come on, you must have done this before," he said impatiently.

He could see when understanding dawned. "Edward … I've never changed anyone into a vampire before. You were the first," she said, turning back to stare out at the sun again. Her voice dropped to a level so low that even his now, incredibly sensitive ears could barely hear her. "You are the last. You will always be the only."

Staggered, he didn't respond for a long moment, not knowing what to say. He wasn't sure if he should even acknowledge her whispered words. "Well, what did the vampire who made you tell you?" he asked finally.

He could hear the tension in her voice when she replied. "He wasn't … it … it wasn't like this for me, Edward."

He waited for her to continue, but she didn't. He was unsure of how to reply, torn between curiosity about her cryptic past, and not wanting to know anything but the bare basics about her. His goal was to learn all he needed, and then strike off on his own. He didn't want to be tied and tethered to her. He didn't want to have to depend on her for anything. He didn't need to get to know her.

"Just tell me what you know from your own experience then," he said curtly. He stalked over to the stacked sheets of drywall and took a seat.

She didn't turn to face him or acknowledge him in any way, but she did speak. Her finger traced idle patterns on the glass as she began. "The sunlight won't kill us. In fact, it has no real effect on us at all. We tend to cling to the shadows, but that's only because it makes our appearance less noticeable."

He stiffened. "What do you mean? Do I look different?" He hadn't so much as glanced in a mirror, and apparently he hadn't noticed anything when he'd seen his reflection in the window the night before.

"It's … relatively subtle. People who knew you before would certainly notice a difference, but it's not anything to worry about. You were handsome before, and in a way, it refined your features, made them more striking. You're paler, your eyes are a different color, but other than that, no, you aren't that different. You look like yourself just … less human."

He nodded, relieved that it was nothing more drastic than that. She continued. "The sunlight makes it even harder for us to blend in as humans."

He asked another question he'd been wondering for a while. "You mentioned earlier that ripping off our heads and being burned could kill us. Anything else?"

She shook her head. "We're fairly impervious, except to each other of course. We can't die from drowning, getting shot, or being poisoned. Our heads being removed paralyzes us, the flames do the rest."

Edward grimaced. "Good to know."

"All the folklore about garlic, crosses, holy water, and churches are false. Although, the smell of garlic is so pungent, it can be a bit unpleasant." She turned to face him. "What else do you want to know?"

He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "Everything."

"Do you have any specific questions?" she asked. "I'm still not sure where to begin."

"Do we age?" he asked.

She shook her head. "No. I have looked like this for almost a hundred years."

He blinked in shock. "Wow."

She gave him a flirtatious smile and fluttered her eyelashes at him. "I know. I look good, don't I?"

For the first time in a long while he laughed. Not a sardonic chuckle of amusement, but a full, genuine laugh. "You certainly don't look a day over ninety," he commented wryly, trying to remember the last time he'd been that amused. It was long before she'd waltzed into his life and ended it.

At the thought, his smile fell. When it did, the light in her eyes dimmed and she sounded stiff when she spoke. "What else do you want to know?"

"How often do we need to feed?" he asked.

"Every three or four days is usually ideal. We can go a week or two, but it isn't a good idea. You're more likely to be out of control, and slip up. You'll probably want to feed every day for now though."

"Okay," he agreed, trying to process the idea. "What about food … food I ate as a human? Can I still eat that?"

"You can," she said, sounding vaguely repulsed. "But I wouldn't recommend it. It won't taste good, and your body won't process it, so you'd just have to bring it back up again."

He had a faint, wistful thought that he'd really miss his morning glass of orange juice.

They continued on like that as he asked random questions that popped into his head. The silence seemed to stretch out longer and longer between the questions, although he was sure he'd have thousands more. Time seemed immaterial, he wasn't restless or impatient. It was an odd sensation to a man used to deadlines, who'd always been working against the clock, trying to cram more hours into the day.

Eventually, they were both silent. He sank back against the crinkling plastic and closed his eyes for a moment. He suddenly wished he could sleep. He wanted to stop thinking, to stop taking in the world around him. It seemed like he hadn't stopped thinking since she'd changed him.

Although, he mused, that wasn't entirely true. He had also stopped thinking when he was touching her. He felt his chest rumble with a low growl, remembering the taste of her on his tongue.

"What do we have in us now?" Edward asked, abruptly sitting up again. "It's not blood. What is it?"

She turned away from the window to look at him. "I don't know what it's called."

"How can you not know?"

"I … I never really thought about it. I am sure it has a more technical name, but I don't know it. I've always thought of it as quicksilver."

"But what is it?"

"I don't know."

"Well, what it is made out of?"

"I don't know that either," she admitted.

"You've been a vampire for almost a hundred years and you don't understand how it works, or even what your body is made up of now?" he asked harshly.

She frowned at him, giving him a hurt-looking half-shrug. "I've never really needed to know."

"Jesus fucking Christ," he snarled. "I would end up with the most idiotic vampire ever. Just my luck."

Bella gave him a wounded look, her voice soft and hurt. "You don't have to be so cruel."

Edward felt the urge to destroy something again, but he forced himself to calm. It was a little easier than the first time, when he'd been desperate for blood to drink, but he still felt like his emotions were off kilter and hard to control. He wondered if that would change.

He rubbed at his temple, a gesture he knew he used to do often as a human when he had a headache. The frustration and irritation were the same, even if the pain in his head was only phantom. He sighed and changed the subject.

"What do you do with your time?" he asked. "Do you have a job?"

"No."

"And yet you live here in the city," he said. "Near the park, right? How on earth do you afford it?"

She smiled grimly. "Investments."

He didn't really understand the strange tone to her voice, or the expression on her face, but he merely nodded. What did it matter anyway? He wasn't going to be staying with her any longer than absolutely necessary.

"Why are we still here?" he asked abruptly.

"As opposed to …?"

"Your apartment."

"I wasn't sure if you'd want to go there."

"Any place has to be better than here," he said dryly. "As exciting as an abandoned, half-finished warehouse is …"

~Dreaming~

He was surprised to find that nearly a whole day had passed when they stepped outside. It was late afternoon, although the heavy cloud cover made it seem much later. The sky was dark and leaden, and it looked as though it could rain at any moment. He didn't like the way time seemed to simultaneously drag and skip, and he didn't know what time of day it was. He was disoriented enough after waking up and finding out his life had abruptly ended and a new one had taken its place. The fact that even the passage of time didn't seem quite the same was aggravating.

He followed silently alongside Bella, his feet soundless on the pavement as they headed toward her place. It didn't require any effort to move stealthily. It was like his muscles moved differently now, without any conscious thought. These changes made him feel itchy and uncomfortable, like he'd slipped into someone else's body and it didn't quite fit right.

The wind caught Bella's hair, lifting a curl and sending it dancing in the breeze. Her scent wafted across his nose; tempting as ever. He pushed down the automatic response it produced, trying to ignore the way it made him feel. He shoved his hands in his pockets, forcing his attention away from her. Instead, he watched people as they passed, finally noticing the appraising glances he got from them. He was no stranger to attention in his human life, but he was sure he'd never been looked at so often, or with such intense interest.

He could sense their interest so much more acutely now, too. He could hear the indrawn breaths, the racing hearts; smell the arousal in the air. Although—he sourly noted—none of them smelled anywhere near as appealing as that of the woman by his side.

He might not like Bella, but he couldn't deny his attraction to her—at least to himself. She didn't need to know how hard he was fighting to keep his hands off her.

A suddenly racing heart snagged his attention and he looked to his left. It belonged to a leggy redhead and his eyes roamed over her appreciatively. He smiled crookedly, and when his eyes raked over her impressive curves, and he actually heard the skip in her heartbeat. His nostrils flared at the mingled scents of her arousal and the blood thrumming through her veins.

He wondered what it would be like to fuck her and drink her blood. He offered the woman another slow, appreciative smirk, but he saw her smile falter and shrink back. He heard a low growling sound coming from his right and he turned to see Bella snarling at the woman.

"What the hell are you doing?" he hissed at her.

Out of the corner of his eyes he saw the redhead scurry past, as if relieved their distraction with one another had turned their attention away from her.

Bella's snarl morphed into a sneer. "What were you doing?"

"Just testing the appeal of this new body." He shrugged nonchalantly. "I did pretty well as a human, just imagine how well I'd do now."

She whirled around so she was right in front of him and he rocked back on his heels. He had no problem remaining upright, but she'd still taken him by surprise. "This new body is mine," she hissed, clutching his shirt in her fist. "You wouldn't have it if it weren't for me, and you certainly won't be trying it out on anyone else."

"Calm the fuck down;" he hissed back, "you're drawing attention."

Her eyes darted to the people around them and she slowly let go of his shirt. Thankfully, there weren't too many people close, and for the most part their gazes had already drifted back to their companions or their phones. There were always people acting oddly in New York City.

~Dreaming~

Bella's apartment was in one of the pricey buildings that circle Central Park. It wasn't the most expensive, but it was close. Edward had made a substantial amount of money as an investment banker and shelled out plenty for his sleek, modern apartment, but it wouldn't begin to cover what Bella had to be paying.

When he was standing inside her beautifully restored, pre-war, two-bedroom apartment, he let out a low whistle. "How the hell do you afford the rent on this place?" he asked.

"I don't pay rent."

"You own this apartment?"

Amusement crossed her face. "I own the building."

"What … but how?" he asked.

"Let's just say I acquired it many, many years ago."

He nodded, his curiosity overriding his lingering feelings of annoyance with her earlier behavior. He was about to ask her to tell him more about how and when she'd bought the place, when another thought occurred to him. "Can I go back to mine?" he asked.

"Your apartment?" Bella asked, curling up gracefully in a cream-colored, upholstered, armchair. Edward nodded. "No. With you missing and the police still investigating, it's a crime scene, Edward. They'd notice. Not to mention what would happen if the staff in the building saw you."

"Fuck." He sank into the chair across from her, his thumb rubbing absent-mindedly across the soft, velvety fabric of the arm. He could feel every tiny ridge and loop in the weave of the fabric against the skin there. He looked at his thumb, idly wondering why his skin was so much more sensitive now.

He lifted his head when Bella spoke. "If there's something small, like a family trinket, I could get it for you now. Do you have a will, or anyone who is going to inherit your belongings?"

He shook his head no. "Everything important is in a safe deposit box, and I don't have any need for it right now. I have no will. I lived alone, I didn't date, and I have no family. There is no one."

She nodded. "Once the apartment is sold and the police release the scene, I can make sure someone keeps an eye on things. Either the property management company will donate it all to charity, or sell it. I'll make sure you get what you want of your belongings."

Edward nodded once, stiffly. "Fine."

It wasn't that he would miss his belongings in particular; it was just another reminder that Bella had taken the choice away from him when she changed him. And that he didn't think he'd ever be able to forgive.

With nothing better to do, Edward wandered around Bella's apartment. It was beautiful, luxurious, and soft. Everything about it, from the colors to the lines of the furniture, was soft. All around him were feminine slopes and delicate colors. It certainly wasn't his taste at all, but it suited what he'd seen so far of her. She was fierce and predatory, but there was something soft and vulnerable lurking underneath. He couldn't get past the juxtaposition of how old she really was and how young she sometimes seemed.

Despite his plan to not ask about her past, he was tempted. There was so much about her he couldn't quite put his finger on, and it seemed like her past must play a large part in it. He kept feeling like he was missing something about her, something vital. He shoved away the thought, tired of even thinking about her.

His feet carried him to the other end of the apartment, peering in one room after another. The apartment was filled with antiques; including a gleaming, hardwood dining table to seat twelve that he imagined didn't get a lot of use. There was what he assumed had been a bedroom that had been converted into a library, with floor to ceiling shelves, filled with books. And finally, he came to her bedroom.

In the center of the far wall was an enormous, carved wood, four-poster bed. There were mounds of pillows and blankets, and gauzy hanging curtains draped from the canopy. The rich, dark wood tones contrasted with the cream and gold color scheme. Despite the soft, delicate colors, the lush decorative details and ornate mirrors scattered throughout the room gave the impression of a Sultan's harem, or Parisian bordello. Something designed for seduction, for sensual exploration.

As if the images that conjured up weren't enough to set Edward's teeth on edge, the air seemed saturated with Bella's scent. It tore through him, searing his nostrils, and ripping through his body. His whole body tingled and he felt like someone had delivered a jolt of electricity to his brain and lifted the top of his head right off. But in a good way, he realized. He remembered the half a dozen or so times he'd done cocaine in college and realized it felt exactly like that. Hazy human memories of getting high and fucking random girls flashed through his mind, and he realized he was gripping the doorframe.

"Edward?" a soft, tentative voice said, and he could feel Bella just behind him. The hair on the back of his neck lifted and he gritted his teeth to keep from spinning around, grabbing her, and throwing her onto the nearest flat surface, and fucking her until she begged him to stop. But he couldn't. That would be admitting to her that he did feel the nearly unbearable pull to her.

Gentle fingers loosened his grip on the doorjamb and then she ducked under his arm, her shoulder brushing against his ribs.

"What are you staring at?" she asked quizzically.

"Nothing," he said hoarsely.

She was turned away from him, staring into the bedroom as if she could figure out what had captured his attention. Her hair was swept over one shoulder, leaving the side closest to him bare. The naked, white flesh looked so soft and tempting. He couldn't help but picture her pinned to the very large bed just a few steps away, his body moving roughly over hers as his teeth sank into her. He could practically taste her, the remembered sweetness of—what had she called it?—quicksilver on his tongue. What an idiotic name, he thought. But it would work, until he could discover what it actually was.

Afraid he'd cave, give in to the urge to take her and claim her, he shoved past her and stalked across the room. A half-open door led him into the bathroom, and he slammed the door shut behind him so hard he heard the wood crack. He leaned on the counter, his head hanging low between his arms and his teeth clenched as frustration coursed through him. Why couldn't he stop? Why couldn't he just turn off his attraction to her? Bella's words about vampire mates ran through his mind, but he growled low in his chest and shook his head. That wasn't it. That couldn't be it. There had to be some other explanation.

He lifted his head, and for the first time, caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror. The room was dark and windowless, and with the door shut it should have been pitch black. However, his newly-sensitive eyes had no trouble seeing. His face seemed leaner; his cheekbones so sculpted there were faint hollows below them. There was nothing gaunt about his features though, simply more refined. Without his eyes ever leaving his own reflection, he flipped on the light in the room to take a closer look. His skin was as pale as he expected with every faint blemish or freckle he'd had before now gone. His nose was a fraction straighter, his lips fuller, his normally unruly hair and brows even seemed neater. There was a faint dusting of stubble on his jaw, just enough to highlight it without looking scruffy and unkempt. His eyelashes were longer and thicker, but the most noticeable change was his eyes. They were a dark, rich amber color beneath the heavy lashes.

He looked good. He grinned at himself in the mirror, momentarily forgetting how much he hated the fact that he'd been changed into this creature. Even his teeth were whiter and more even, he noticed. The canine that had slightly overlapped the tooth next to it was perfectly straight. He poked experimentally at it, half expecting fangs to grow, but it remained the same. His canines had always been somewhat pointed, but they were no more so than they'd ever been. Belatedly, he realized what an idiot he'd been for even thinking they'd grow. The bite mark Bella had left on his neck had been shaped just like a human bite, with two crescents, not two puncture marks.

Grudgingly, Edward had to admit that he wasn't altogether sorry about the changes to his physical appearance. If there was one good thing about this entire situation, it was that he had never looked better. Being a vampire suited him. As for the rest of it, he'd learn what he could from Bella, and leave her behind for good. That was the only way to make this new life—or whatever it was—tolerable.

He turned to leave, but caught sight of the large, luxurious shower. He supposed that he technically didn't need to wash; he didn't seem to sweat anymore, or have any other normal bodily function—except hunger for blood and sexual arousal, he thought grimly. But a shower sounded nice.

Edward stripped out of his clothing and turned the water on before stepping inside. Despite the age of the building, the water pressure was strong, and it was immediately hot. With a groan, he situated himself below the stream of water. He could feel each tiny drop against his skin and he had to admit, it felt incredible. Edward braced his arms on the shower wall and let it beat down over his back. His muscles might not have actually felt tight and achy, but the familiarity was comforting, allowing him to mentally relax.

After a long while, he straightened up, running his hand through his hair to slick it back. He glanced down, taking in the changes to his body. He'd always been very fit, diligently going to the gym to work out, but the definition to his muscles was even more impressive now. He wasn't bulkier, just lean and cut. His hand trailed over his firm pecs, across the ridges of his abdomen, noticing the sculpted v along his hips. His hand wrapped around his cock automatically, feeling the short, neatly trimmed hairs along the base.

He squeezed his dick roughly, feeling it grow in his hand. Edward groaned, realizing that even his own touch felt better now. His hand moved slowly at first, exploring the change in sensation; everything was heightened now. He hissed at the feeling of his thumb sliding across the head, feeling the slippery wetness there. Pausing, he examined his cock critically, wondering if it was any bigger than before. Probably not. He laughed softly to himself; it wasn't like it needed to be any larger; he hadn't exactly been short-changed in that department.

Edward's hand began to move again, a little quicker this time, stroking rhythmically. He tried not to think of Bella as he did so, her mouth wrapped around him, her pussy engulfing him. It was impossible though. Trying not to think about something was practically a guarantee that he would think of it. Eventually he gave in, feeling the surge of pleasure in his body when he did so. The images were a montage of the moments they had together, blending and swirling until he couldn't see or think or do anything but feel. Prickling sensations covered his entire body and he felt the low, urgent clench in his belly.

With a hoarse groan, Edward came, painting the wall of the shower. When the next image popped into his head, it wasn't a memory, but a fantasy. He could see Bella in front of him, naked and wet; his come dripping down her lower back and over the curve of her ass.

His cock throbbed in his hand at the thought of marking her like that and he snarled viciously. Why did he want that so badly? Why did the need for her rip and tear at him with a clawing, ferocious hunger? And how the hell was he ever going to resist her?

It had only been a few days.

How long would it take him to get acclimated to being a vampire, to feel like he could safely go off on his own?

And how long could he keep his hands off her?

Edward washed and turned off the water, realizing too late that he'd probably put on quite the show for Bella. He had no doubt that she would have heard him in the shower and known exactly what he was doing. He grunted in irritation, and reached for the soft, cream-colored towel hanging from the bar on the wall. He dried himself and wrapped it around his waist tightly. He realized that the clothes he'd worn before were covered in plaster dust from the loft. He didn't really want to change back into them. Steam billowed out of the bathroom as he stepped out. He paused when he realized Bella was standing in the bedroom waiting for him.

He felt a trickle of water run from his hair, down his neck and over his collarbone. He saw her lips part, and her tongue swipe over them in a slow lick that he could almost feel against his own skin. Edward imagined her tongue along every inch of his body, his cock rising at the thought as if he hadn't just come.

"Do you need something?" she asked.

The look in her eyes was one of naked, unguarded yearning. He could smell her desire; see the way her nipples pebbled under the thin silk of the pajamas he just now realized she was wearing. She was barefoot, her hair hanging long and heavy over her shoulders. The sweet, delicate look she had right then was a sharp contrast to the hunger in her eyes. She stepped forward, her feet silent on the plush carpet.

Her hands were trembling as they reached out to touch him. Edward didn't move, standing stock still as her fingers ghosted over his bare, damp chest. The touch was so light he almost couldn't feel it, and yet it was like heat, branding across his sensitive skin. A part of him wanted to tell her that he needed clean clothes, and ask if she had any for him. Another part—one more desperate and primal—wanted to tell her all he needed was her.

He opened his mouth to speak, unsure of what would come out.

Notes: Well, Edward's feeling a bit conflicted there, isn't he? What do you think he'll do next? (and wasn't that an evil cliffie?) Hope you enjoyed Edward in the shower, I thought the whole scene in the bathroom suited his narcissistic tendencies perfectly!