Chapter 7
Us
The bed held softness unlike anything she had ever experienced. Or perhaps it was her skin, newly remade, that made it feel that way.
Silk sheets and pillow covers, heavy down blankets enveloping her, warming her, giving her a sense of comfort she had never before experienced.
Waking was as it had been before, instantaneous, frightening almost in the sudden intensity of consciousness. One moment, blackness; the next, total lucidity.
Bella woke with Edward's name on her lips, a soft whisper, and she smiled against the silk.
Had there been dreams? Visions of her life as an immortal? Had she dreamt of who she might be, what she might do?
Bella's heart raced as her mind pondered these things. There was time, now. Time enough to see all of the art that ever she could desire.
Who cared if she was no longer a part of the web of humanity that produced it?
Could one not stand outside a house and still admire the decor within? Was it not possible to appreciate certain strains of music that the ear could not, in truth, even process into a coherent whole?
I'm falling in love with him, she thought, and in love with what he is.
Though she sensed the tragedy in this thought, as if some instinctive part of her warned against so seemingly easy an answer, she could not deny the truth of it.
Carlisle be damned; Edward was not like him, never would be. She was sure of this.
She'd seen Edward's face as she pressed her blood to his mouth. Not greed or hate, not even hunger, but only overwhelming desire.
Love? Or at least the beginnings of it, as she was now feeling herself? Bella thought so, yes, and that was enough.
The click of a latch. Bella felt no fear. Not Carlisle, then. Edward, of course.
She turned, sitting up before he could speak. She didn't want him to speak. Not now.
Catching him in her bright caramel eyes, now luminescent from the vampire blood in her veins, trying to hold him there. An interminable moment, but sweet, as they looked into each other's eyes.
Edward's face held that same gentle smile with which he seemed always to look upon her.
You are all I have wanted, his eyes told her, since the first time I beheld you.
Bella felt this echo in her own soul, and she broke out into a grin. She let the sheets pool in her lap.
Bare skin, bare breasts, not embarrassed. She laughed as his eyes flicked down momentarily, and back again to her face.
It did not anger her, this look. It brought her only the joy that comes with being desired.
"Lovely," he said through his smile, and she knew he meant not only her breasts, but everything else.
Filled with warmth, she closed her eyes, lay back, enjoyed the feeling of silk on skin.
Edward sat next to her in a large wooden chair with a padded cloth back, as relaxed as ever she had seen him, and yet so still. So composed.
She wondered aloud if it was the effect of immortality. He smiled, shook his head.
"No."
"Just you?"
"Just me." She looked up at him from the bed; let her eyes tell him that if the chair was uncomfortable, other arrangements could be made. Edward laughed out loud.
"Oh, if only I could, Bella. But I haven't the time that I'd like to spend." Bella frowned in disappointment, but accepted this without comment. They had forever, perhaps. "Perhaps?"
"Are you reading my mind?" She questioned, a mischievous grin surfacing, pretending to be offended. "Is that another crazy thing you can do?" Edward smiled.
"Your mind is a fascinating place. I find it hard to draw away."
"Where are you going? Why can't you stay with me?" She had meant it as another playful question; the spurned, jealous lover.
Another game, nothing more, but she saw a momentary flick of something on Edward's face. Frustration? Anger? He sighed, examined his fingernails.
"Carlisle requires my services. I would must do ask he asks, particularly now."
"Why?" Edward looked up at her, the expression of one in love stamped clearly on his face, eyes locked again with hers.
"He didn't kill you."
"Did you think he would?"
"I did not know." Edward looked away from her, ran a hand through his hair. It seemed that this admission, more than any other, hurt him.
Bella tried to understand the reason for his pain. She reached out, touched his hand, drew it between her breasts, held it against her heart. "I did not know. Bella. I have not feared anything, at all, in centuries. Not even Carlisle. Nothing alive, nothing undead. Not until we approached his chamber. And to see you in his arms? Under his spell? Terror. Terror."
"He couldn't hurt me, in the end, you know. That's what he wanted, and I
didn't give it to him. I wasn't thinking of him at all."
"No?"
"No." She sat up, leaned forward, kissed his lips. "I was thinking about someone else." Edward touched her cheek, touched her hair, held her head in his hands, kissed the skin of her forehead.
"That comforts me," he said at last, "and you make me regret heeding Carlisle's summons this night. There is much else I would rather be doing."
Bella smiled at this. It echoed her own thoughts.
"Go, then. Do what he wants and come back soon."
"So quick to dismiss me?" It was Edward's turn, mock hurt in his voice, a grin on his lips.
"I'm afraid if I don't, I'm going to jump you whether you like it or not." Edward laughed, deep and rich, and stood up to go. But Bella called him back.
One last kiss, long and deep this time, and during, Bella bit deep into her own lip, felt the blood seep from the wound, shared it with him.
The taste of it was like fire, like nectar, like life and death and dreams. And oh, how those mental ties to humanity seemed like candles in a strong wind, blinking out of existence, one after the other.
Pain lanced through Bella's midsection, stomach knotting, muscles cramping. She sat up, doubled over, gasped.
In the depths of her body, a need that had nothing to do with blood, nothing to do with her new nature, reawakened.
Heroin, the pain cried out to her, and Bella felt tears standing out against her eyes, thought these themselves felt dry and burned.
No. This was over. This was her past. She had left this behind. Another spasm. Another cramp.
Bella cried out, arms wrapped around her stomach, Carlisle's words coming back to her.
"She is unclean."
Edward's protest, that the change, her rebirth into immortality, would cleanse this need from her. Carlisle's deceptive chuckle.
Suppose it didn't? Suppose now she would be trapped in this addiction for the duration of her immortal life?
Bella thought that if this were the case, such a life would end more quickly than expected. And so it went.
Bella could not remember when Edward had left her, could not remember how long it had been, had no conception of time. She cursed herself for not remembering to ask for his blood.
She cursed Mike for ever giving her the drug. She cursed God for putting her on this earth. Pain and thirst ravaged her.
At times it seemed she burned, at others chills wracked her body like physical blows. She did not call for Edward, though she wanted to. She was afraid only the thing she had met last night would answer.
Just as it seemed she could take it no longer, that she would leap from her bed, dress, return to the city, return to Mike, return to it all in exchange for the syringe which would numb this pain, she felt a presence in the room with her.
Her fear gave her a momentary respite from the pain, but this was not the abject terror that she had experienced in Carlisle's presence, nor the quiet awe that Edward inspired. It was something in between.
"Who?" She asked the darkness at the end of the room.
"Rose," said a voice from the shadows. Bella could make out a pair of gleaming eyes observing her.
She tried to think of an adequate greeting. Words failed her.
Hi, I'm Bella. I need some heroin.
It was almost enough to make her laugh out loud. Rose came forward into the light.
She was a study in contrast. Her hair was silver blonde, long and straight. Her deep blue eyes had not been lightened by vampirism, only intensified into deep black pools. Her skin was white porcelain, her lips a deep, sensual red. She was beautiful, taller than Bella and well built, wearing a pair of black jeans and a cream-colored blouse. She appeared concerned.
"Don't take this the wrong way, but you look terrible," she said, sitting in the same chair that Edward had previously occupied.
"I'm not … doing too good," Bella admitted.
"Sick?"
"Withdrawal." Bella felt a slight flush of shame at this admission, but what did it matter now?
"Withdra—Oh!" Rose's eyes grew large as she realized what Bella meant. She pushed her hair back behind her shoulders unconsciously, bending over Bella, seeming equally curious and worried.
"Edward?" Bella asked, trying not to let her voice sound as weak as she felt.
"I don't know. I'm sorry. I wish I did. I'd get him." Bella sobbed once, got control of herself, looked again at Rose.
"Can I have my clothes?"
"Huh? Oh, yeah. Sure." Rose handed them to Bella, who pulled them on underneath the covers.
"Sorry," Bella said. She fought against the pain, sat up, forehead rested against her palms, elbows against her knees.
"It's okay. I guess it's weird, having some chick you've never met staring at you while you're all sick and naked and everything." Bella laughed a little, wiped tears from her eyes. "What kind of drug?" Rose asked. There was a faint accent to her voice. Bella couldn't place it. Bella did not look up.
"Can't you read it? It's sort of been on my mind."
"I'm not like Edward. I mean, I might be someday, but not now. His powers are way beyond mine. I just pick up things once in a while."
"Heroin."
"Oh, ouch. That's not good. I mean … you know. Pot, E, maybe even a little coke, sure. But Heroin's bad shit." Bella shuddered, looked up at Rose, eyes watery.
"No kidding." Her voice was a hoarse whisper.
"Hey, hey … sorry," Rose said, that expression of concern coming to her features again.
"I'm not trying to be rude. Seriously. I'm a little scatterbrained right now myself. Always like this when I oversleep, and the girl last night had so much wine in her." Bella raised her eyebrows, confused. Rose rolled her eyes.
"And now I'm rambling. I can't control it. I'm sorry. Can I do anything to help you?" Edward was right; Bella did like Rose.
She was the polar opposite of the calm, collected vampire who'd brought Bella to this world, but Bella liked her just the same.
She smiled, trying to keep the bitterness out of her voice. "Unless you've got a fix in that purse, I don't know if there's much you can do." Rose shook her head, her expression almost sad, as if it was indeed a travesty that she was not carrying the drug.
"No. Just some makeup and Kleenex and," she looked around as if confirming that no one was listening, "maybe some weed." Bella laughed, wincing at the pain this brought.
A vampire carrying ganja. Wonders never ceased. Rose grinned as well, maybe seeing the humor, maybe just happy to see Bella smile.
"You can smoke that?" Bella asked.
"Sure."
"And it's, like, the same as for a human?"
"Beats me. It does something, though. Everything does. What we find palatable, though, may differ a lot from humans. I think heroin would probably be too much for me."
"When Edward, uh … started me, he said that it made him really sick, just getting it from my blood."
"Edward's a wuss!" Rose laughed. "I mean, I'm sure it hid … and if it was that bad for him I'm sure it'd be awful for me, too. But he's also pretty picky. He doesn't even like it when there's a little alcohol in the mix. Just all that serious 'no, only blood, nothing else' stuff."
"Maybe that's not such a bad thing?"
"Maybe. I don't know. Does it matter?"
"How old are you, Rose? How old is Edward?"
"Ooh, hmmm," she mused, "I don't know. He might want to tell you that himself."
"What about you, then?"
"One hundred and forty eight … and three days. Or twenty-two, depending on how you look at it."
"You don't look a day over one-twenty." Rose laughed, and then looked again in concern as Bella doubled over. Hot and cold flashes were running through her, and she was bathed in a cold sweat.
"Oh, fuck. I think I'm going to puke."
"Are you sure there's nothing I can do?"
"Edward's blood stops it. I don't know. Would yours?" Bella spoke slowly, through clenched teeth, trying to fight against the sudden onset of nausea. Rose shrugged.
"Beats me. Worth a shot. I don't mind. I probably shouldn't let you just go at my neck or whatever, though."
"Edward bit his finger."
"Sure." Rose's teeth made a tiny clicking sound, like the noise of a stapler, and she held her finger out to Bella, blood welling up from Bella tears in the skin. "Hurry up, before it heals." Bella looked up at her.
"Sorry. This is some fucked up, bizarre shit."
"Live a hundred and fifty years, and you'll see things that make this seem pretty tame. Do it, if you think it'll help you. I don't mind." Bella put her lips on Rose's finger and let the blood roll on to her tongue.
The effect of the blood was immediate, energizing her, and it was all she could do not to clamp down with her teeth. Rose seemed to sense this, and grinned.
"Yummy. Vampire blood is awesome. Hard to get, though." Bella swallowed twice, forced herself to pull away. Her nausea disappeared, along with the cold sweat and the chills.
Some of the pain remained, still, but it was distant.
"Better?" Rose asked, and Bella nodded.
"Yes. Not perfect, but much better Thank you." Rose licked the last few drops of her blood off her fingers and smiled.
"No problem. What's your name?"
"Bella."
"Italian for beautiful?"
"yes" Rose laughed and clapped her hands.
"That's so cool! That's much better than Jennifer or Betty or Rose." Bella shrugged.
"I guess?"
"People with cool names never appreciate them. Now then. What you need is a bath. That'll take your mind off of this withdrawal stuff until Edward gets back, and then I'm sure he'll know what to do." Bella crossed her arms, scratched her shoulders.
A bath sounded wonderful.
"You can use mine. The one in here sucks. Edward doesn't know anything." Rose helped her up. Bella stood on shaky legs, looked around, took a breath.
"How far is it?"
"Not far. Can you walk a bit?" Bella nodded. Rose went to the door, opened it, held it for her.
In the hallway, the vampire took the lead, and Bella followed.
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Chantinique
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