Notes: As always, thanks to my betas, ContentedTwiCow, Sunflower Fanfiction, Jules, and AshesAshes. I couldn't do this without you!

Thank you for your patience while I took two weeks off. I am glad I did because there was a horrible ice storm and I lost power for 5 days (over Christmas). It was exhausting and stressful and wasn't exactly what I had in mind for the holidays, but I did my best to enjoy it anyway and I am eager to start the new year! Hopefully you had a lovely holiday season and that your 2014 is the best ever!

Chapter Nine

Bella's lips parted in surprise, but she stepped back, allowing him into her bedroom. He came in there frequently—her bathroom was the only one with a shower—but he still felt slightly uncomfortable. He had no idea why he'd chosen to tell her he wanted to hear about her past, but he knew he needed to.

Her past seemed to be the key to so many things, and he couldn't leave until he'd satisfied those lingering questions. He glanced at the bed and then took a seat on a chair across the room from it. Edward watched as she paced around the bedroom for a few moments. He couldn't stop watching her. Her movements were fluid but with a strength that still unnerved him. She was so beautiful. More beautiful than she'd ever been when he was human.

He was so immersed in watching her that he was startled when she finally spoke. She was facing away from him, standing at the window, finally still.

"In June of nineteen-fourteen I was seventeen-years-old. My father was a wealthy banker in New York; my mother had died when I was born. Father remarried shortly after, and my stepmother, Susan, wasn't cruel, but we were never close. She was his wife, not my mother. I had nannies that raised me. My father was often gone on business trips, and I was rich and bored." She looked over her shoulder to give him a half-hearted smile and turned back to the window.

"There was a young man named Garrett Morgan. He was the son of my father's boss. He wanted to court me, but his father wouldn't allow it. Mr. Morgan believed his son could do better. He wanted Garrett to marry Katherine Parsons. Her father was wealthier and more powerful than mine was. Garrett and I thought we were in love. It all seemed so tragic then; young lovers torn apart by family desires." He heard a mocking note in her voice, but he let her continue.

"Garrett came up with a plan. If he compromised my virtue, his father would be forced to allow us to marry. It didn't work that way. We were 'caught' by my father, although we'd hardly done more than kiss and touch. I was still intact." This time the mocking tone was clear. "Father did exactly as we expected; he went to Mr. Morgan and demanded that Garrett marry me.

"In turn, Mr. Morgan demanded that a doctor examine me. He would only agree to our marriage if Garrett had taken my virginity. It was humiliating. I cried as a doctor examined me, and then cried when he told Mr. Morgan that I was still a virgin. Mr. Morgan refused to allow Garrett to marry me, and threatened my father's position. He said he'd ruin him if my father breathed a word to anyone about what Garrett and I had done, and that if his harlot of a daughter wasn't sent away immediately, he would destroy my father's career.

"I sailed from New York the following morning. The idea was to get me away from Garrett and salvage my reputation, but there were whispers of a scandal anyway. My Aunt Ruth accompanied me as a chaperone. She was quite a bit older than my father was and very strict. There were eight society ladies on the trip, and I was by far the youngest. Ostensibly, I was traveling with my aunt to tour Europe. It was the sort of thing that was still done in our social circle. Society ladies were expected to converse about art and history, and what place was better to learn that than Europe? I'd dreamed of going to Europe for years. But not like that. I was miserable, and I spent the first three days of our trip, sobbing in my stateroom." Her voice had become cool and detached, as if she was telling someone else's story. He also noticed how formal her speech had become, as if she was falling back into an earlier time where proper grammar was insisted upon.

"A Marconi gram—a telegram essentially—was sent to me three days into the trip to inform me that a Miss Katherine Parsons was engaged to be married to a Mr. Garrett Morgan. You would have thought that would have made me cry even more, but it didn't. Instead, I grew angry. I wanted to get back at him for moving on. Of course, now I understand that he had no choice. Neither of us did. We were at the mercy of his father."

"What did you do?" Edward asked, enthralled by the story she was telling.

"I made it my goal to flirt with every male I could. If I was going to be branded as a harlot, I might as well act like one." She turned and gave him another grim smile. "My Aunt Ruth and her army of society ladies doubled as chaperones, though, so I barely had time to flirt with a single sailor before they descended on me."

"That sailor was a lucky man," Edward said, without a trace of sarcasm. He imagined a young and determined human version of Bella, attempting to seduce a whole ship full of sailors. He had no doubt she could have managed it. "I'm sure you were irresistible."

Her face softened, but she didn't respond to his comment, merely continued with her story. "When we arrived in Holland we toured for several weeks before we learned the news that Archduke Franz Ferdinand had been assassinated. Father sent a series of increasingly worried telegrams as tensions mounted throughout Europe and the battles began. We went from Holland into Germany, Germany to France. Italy was supposed to come after France, but I never made it there. I was in Paris when he found me."

"Who found you?" Edward asked, leaning forward, hanging onto every word.

"Death." Her voice was a low whisper, the memory of her fear lacing her words even though it had been nearly a century. "My maker."

Edward stood up, crossing the room to stand close to her. A strange desire to protect her thrummed through him. She continued, facing away from him, the tension in her voice clear. "First, you need to know about Paris during that time."

"Tell me about Paris then." His hand was resting on her forearm, and the front of his body pressed against the back of hers. She was tense, her whole body tight, but as they stood there quietly for a moment, she seemed to relax, sinking back against him.

"Paris was a vibrant city, like nothing I'd ever seen before. Wilder, freer. I felt at home. I soon began slipping out of the room and wandering the city when Aunt Ruth was sleeping; it was thrilling to be so rebellious. She slept like the dead, and there were only a few nights when I wasn't able to escape for at least a few hours. I went to the cafes. I spoke a little French—most educated girls of my class did at the time—and it was enough. I met a young man there, Laurent. He was a poet, and just weeks after we met, I went to his apartment, and I let him seduce me. I was still angry at Garrett. Garrett's touch had been hesitant, but it had awakened something in me, some need I couldn't quite identify. Laurent made me feel beautiful and desired, and on a shabby, narrow bed in an attic apartment in Paris, I gave myself to him."

Edward heard a low growl begin, and he was shocked to realize that he was the one growling. He was jealous. Jealous of this Frenchman, who was long dead and forgotten by everyone but Bella. He bit back the rage and quieted himself.

Either Bella didn't notice his anger, or she chose to ignore it. "He was a skilled lover, and he taught me much. I went there, night after night, until our last night in Paris. He begged me to stay, to run away from my family and stay in Paris with him. I was infatuated with him, but I didn't love him, and what kind of life could I have with a penniless poet? I was spoiled. A rich, entitled girl who wasn't ready for that kind of life. We were arguing when Death arrived."

He felt her tremble against him, and he held her closer, nuzzled his cheek against the top of her head, his need to comfort her eclipsing his anger. The trembling didn't stop, but the tension in her body eased as he held her close. When she was calm again, she continued. "We were in bed, naked under the sheets. My thighs were still wet when the figure appeared in the window. I screamed, but no one heard. There was a party in the apartment below. A wild, Bohemian party that drowned out any noise we made."

Once again, her voice grew cool and detached, like she was reciting some dark and twisted fairy tale—a story that had nothing to do with her at all. "He crouched in the window for a moment, and I scrambled to pull the covers over me and dress. He was blond. Handsome. But his face was cold, almost cruel looking. I remember the gleam of his eyes in the dark, candle-lit room. He killed Laurent first. It was over quickly, but I remember every second of it. I was terrified, and yet the sight of the blood was so beautiful as it spilled onto the white sheets. I remember thinking that even then.

"He drank from me next, his hard, cold body against mine. I was still naked as he pulled me out of bed and held me against him. I was ashamed because I desired him. I had just given myself to Laurent and yet this monster excited me. He didn't caress me, or put himself inside of me, and yet, when the blood drained from me, I came. The pain and the pleasure were so intertwined, so heady and new. And when I drank from him it was the sweetest ecstasy."

He smelled the rush of arousal that drifted through the air, and despite the horrifying tale she was telling, he found himself hardening as he pictured her slight, nude body against that of a fully clothed, blond vampire. The idea of what the vampire had done made him inexplicably angry, but he couldn't deny the rush of desire that mingled with the anger.

"When I awoke, we were in an old, crumbling chateau on the outskirts of Paris. He taught me what it was to be a vampire."

"Were you lovers?" Edward asked. His voice was low and rough. He didn't like the hot surge of jealousy that snaked through him once again.

"Yes."

"Did you want to be, or did he force you?"

"He didn't force me. At the time, I thought I wanted it. I did want it. I just didn't understand the world around me. My maker, he was a cruel man. He drank from humans for pleasure, killing them without compunction. He taught me to do the same. For months, we scoured the countryside for victims; drinking, fucking, and killing. It was an orgy of gluttony. It was horrific, but it was all I knew."

"I could rip him limb from limb." Edward growled lowly; anger made his entire body vibrate against hers.

Bella shrugged. "It was a long time ago."

He leaned in, pressing his forehead against the back of her head. They were both silent for a long time as she stood encircled in his arms. "Why did you leave him?" he asked finally.

"I found out he had a companion already. They had been together for a very long time. Maybe hundreds of years, and she was as sadistic and cruel as he was. They'd quarreled, and she'd gone off on her own for several months. When she returned she was livid to find me there, and I was angry that he didn't belong to me. I fled the chateau and found myself in the midst of war. France was in the grip of World War I and the Germans were marching on Paris. I stole a French soldier's uniform and followed on the outskirts. War is a Godsend to a vampire. We can drink and kill without fear of being found. What were a few bodies to them, when they could hardly bury the ones who had been shot or blown up? It was a gory, grisly time, and it was only by chance that I stumbled upon the doctor."

"The doctor?" he asked, curious to know what she would say next.

"I … I think I'm done for tonight." Abruptly, she stepped away from him, and his hand fell to his side. "I'll tell you another time. I just need a break right now."

"… Okay," he agreed, startled by her sudden shift in mood. She seemed fragile right then, brittle, as if she'd shatter if he pushed her at all. He watched as she disappeared into the closet, reappearing moments later, fully dressed. Her face was blank, her eyes dark and shadowed.

Her voice was equally bland and emotionless when she spoke. "I'm going out for a while. I'll be back in a few hours."

"Where are you going? Would you like me to go with you?" He was as surprised as she was by the questions leaving his mouth. He was even more startled when she shook her head no.

"Please, don't. Don't pretend as if you care. It's even worse than you telling me you don't want me."

"Bella…I…" his voice trailed off. He was at a complete loss for words, unsure of what to say to her. The events that had transpired over the last few weeks—and especially that night—had shaken him. He felt as though something in him was shifting, softening, but he didn't know what it meant.

"I'll be back later." Her voice was cool and dismissive, and he watched her as she walked out the door, leaving only her lingering scent behind.

~Dreaming~

Edward sat in her bedroom for a long time, waiting for her to return. His mind whirled with thoughts, but they were too slippery to grasp, too fleeting and amorphous. He struggled to pin them down, arrange them in some sort of logical fashion, but he couldn't manage that.

If it were possible for him to be sick, he would have been, imagining over and over a young, vulnerable woman in the grip of some sadistic monster. She had been foolish for going out on her own, for fucking a penniless French poet. But, she hadn't deserved to watch Laurent be killed or to be changed into a vampire. She hadn't deserved to be used by her maker, turned into something dark.

He now understood why Bella had been so worried about the young woman they'd drank blood from in the park. Why Bella had followed her to make sure she made it back home safely. The story of her past helped him understand why she sometimes seemed so young …it was because she was young. She'd been changed at seventeen.

Edward paused suddenly, the realization that there was a twelve-year age difference between them made him vaguely queasy. No matter how seductive and womanly she seemed, in some ways, she was barely an adult.

He tried to remind himself of the hundred years she had lived through since. That she was far more experienced and worldly than he was, but it still made him feel ill.

He was bent over; elbows planted on his knees, and his hair gripped in his fists when she finally returned. Her soft footfalls announced her presence, and they stopped just a few feet from him. "Edward?" she said worriedly.

Taking a deep breath, he lifted his head, staring at her blankly. His eyes traced over her, trying to take in every aspect of her face, her stance, her body. Edward drank in the sight, terrified that he had taken advantage of her.

She still looked a bit fragile, but it was her eyes that convinced him that this was no seventeen-year-old girl in front of him. This was a woman with nearly a century of history—a dark, bloody one at that. He let out a relieved sigh, his lips parting as if to say something, but nothing came out.

She stepped closer, a puzzled, questioning frown on her face. She lifted her hand, hesitantly reaching out to touch his cheek. She moved like someone approaching an unfamiliar dog, warily, as if she was afraid he might snap at her. But he held still, allowing her small, soft hand to cradle his jaw.

He closed his eyes; the fight leached out of him, the urge to pull away from her gone. Her thumb brushed against his cheekbone, right under his eye. With a heavy sigh, he leaned forward, his forehead resting against her stomach, his hands coming up to wrap around the back of her thighs. She cradled him close, running her fingers through his hair.

For just a moment, he forgot what they were and how they had gotten to this point. They were just two individuals coming together to offer each other comfort. Not vampires, not antagonistic lovers, but people in need.

Edward let out a long shuddering sigh, wanting the feel of her fingers in his hair to be enough.

For a while, it was.

Notes: Soo, what do you think of Bella's history? There's more to discover but you've seen the first glimpse of her past and it's quite interesting, isn't it? It even cracked a bit of Edward's hard shell. I am so eager to hear what you think about it.

In other news, I am working very hard on my original fiction career. I have a short story that will be published as part of an anthology in Feb. (more info to follow). I have also self-published several gay romance stories under the penname of Brigham Vaughn. If you're interested in reading some of my original fiction, the stories are available on Amazon, Barnes & Noble, Kobo, and Smashwords.

I also have Facebook, Twitter ( AuthorBVaughn), WordPress blog, and Goodreads accounts under that name. So, please join me on there if you'd like to follow my OF gay romance writing career.

One of my pre-readers for "Dreaming in Blood" had to step away from the fanfic world due to RL, and in conjunction with the ice storm and my OF writing I am quite behind on chapters. I will be posting the story every other week from now on until I can get things back in order. Thanks so much for your understanding.