Disclaimer: I am NOT Stephenie Meyer and I don't own any of the Twilight series' characters or stories. I borrowed the dialogue and storyline from Breaking Dawn, but the rest is my own take on the story, as seen through Edward's eyes.

Chapter 7

Aftershocks

The flickering flames had all extinguished themselves, leaving us in a blanket of darkness and soft moonlight filtering through the gauzy curtains. I blew out a puff of air, sending a smattering of white feathers afloat. I had to chuckle at the absurdity of it. All things considered, with all the worries and concerns about consummating my marriage to Bella, it was a blessing that Esme's pillows were the only casualty.

They had all been right. I desperately wanted to believe my family when they told me that I could do this – that I would have perfect control – but I didn't think it was possible. I had seen the passion in the minds of others, knew its intensity, how it could completely overwhelm you. I never believed that it would be an option for me, that my level of control was strong enough. They all believed in me; I only needed to believe in myself.

For all the time I agonized over this night, I never imagined how truly wonderful it would be. My only concern had been for Bella's safety, for making it through the night without the urge to sink my teeth into the supple skin of her neck. I hadn't given credence to the notion that I would find such pleasure in it. And, amazingly, I had.

It was as though she had been designed specifically for me – like two halves of a complex puzzle, we fit together like I never imagined we could. My brothers had tried to explain it to me, tried to tell me that the feeling that level of intimacy would bring was only second to drinking human blood. They couldn't have been more wrong. The taste of human blood had never satisfied me in such a way – never made me feel so alive. If my fate was to be a slave to one addiction or another, Bella would be my drug of choice.

She slept peacefully, wrapped in my embrace. My fingers gently glided along her spine, absently tracing meandering patterns on her skin. She shifted, throwing her arm across my chest, and a small whimper escaped her lips.

I looked down at her face and became concerned when I saw the furrow in her brow. She winced again and a twinge of panic began to rise in my chest. Was she hurt? Had I done something to cause her harm?

Everything had seemed to go so smoothly. In a blissful stupor, so relieved that I was able to successfully fulfill Bella's wish, I hadn't given it a second thought. My eyes began to nervously scan the exposed skin. I gently shifted away from her so I could get a better view. I brushed away the snowy blanket of feathers and the sight caused a lump to form in my throat.

Deep purple marks appeared on her arms, her shoulders, her hips. My hand shook as I reached out to brush the small bruise that was forming on her cheek. I jerked my hand away as though I had been burned and brought the clenched fist up to my mouth as I struggled not to cry out. How could I have been so careless? I should have known that this was all too good to be true.

I pushed off the bed and ran from the room, desperately trying to escape the evidence of my shame. I began pacing the length of the cottage, running my fingers roughly through my hair. How could this have happened? Each and every one of them said that I had nothing to fear, that everything would be perfect. Even Alice had assured me that the wedding night would go off without incident. Did she not see this? Or did she disregard it? Was it expected?

My mind furiously tried to pick apart my memories of the night, pinpointing the exact moment each mark was made and what I had done to cause it. Why hadn't Bella told me that she was in pain? Why hadn't she stopped me? I sank to my knees, utterly ashamed of what I had done. I had taken what should have been an earnest and impassioned expression of devotion and turned it into the stuff of nightmares. I'm a monster.

The sounds of soft whimpering wrenched me from my inner turmoil, reminding me that there was someone here in greater pain. I took a deep breath, trying to work up the courage to go back to her. Now, more than ever, every touch would have to be carefully measured. I slowly eased myself beside her, taking great care not to jostle her awake. My body trembled as I lay beside her, aching to comfort, but terrified to touch.

She turned, snuggling up beside me, and threw her arm over my chest. It smacked loudly and I winced, imagining the new bruise that would result. I lay my free arm across my face, hiding my shame and stifling the sobs that I could hold back no longer. And so I lay there, still as a statue, frozen in anguish, awaiting the moment when she would awaken and discover the truth.

Seconds…minutes…hours…I couldn't be sure how long I lay there, waiting for Bella to wake. The sun had peeked over the horizon and risen high into the sky before she began to stir. Sometime in the night, her whimpers had become too much for me and I conceded to my need to console her, wrapping her in a gentle embrace, but each movement was tentative, keenly focused on not causing any further damage.

Bella's deep breaths gradually subsided and the low thumping rhythm of her heart increased moderately as she began to wake. I focused my eyes on the canopy above, still hating myself for allowing any harm to come to her and afraid to face her, to see in her eyes the full realization of the monster that I truly am.

Her arms wound more tightly around my neck as she pressed herself against me, draping one of her legs over mine. I could not see whether her eyes were open or closed. I was afraid to look, afraid of what I would see in them. A low gurgle emanated from her stomach, followed by her light laughter.

"What's funny?" I asked. I couldn't possibly see what was funny about this particular morning. I felt her skin flush with heat. Was she embarrassed? Ashamed? Her stomach growled again, eliciting another bout of laughter.

"You just can't escape being human for very long," she replied.

I didn't answer. What could I say? I should be groveling on my knees, begging her forgiveness for the horrifying way I had treated her, but I couldn't force myself to move. Anger coursed through me and the longer I remained silent, the angrier I became with myself.

She shifted and I immediately moved my arms, afraid that the slightest pressure would only do more harm. She propped herself up on her elbow and I could see out of the corner of my eye the concern that etched her face. She stared at me for several beats, seemingly confused by my refusal to look at her.

"Edward, what is it? What's wrong?"

"You have to ask?" I spat, unable to suppress the anger that seeped into my voice. I regretted my words the moment they left my lips, seeing the hurt expression on her face. Her brow furrowed in concentration and she tugged her bottom lip tightly between her teeth. I reached up, gently running my finger across the folds in her brow.

"What are you thinking?"

Her eyes snapped to mine. "You're upset. I don't understand. Did I…?" she stammered.

She was trying to distract me, feigning ignorance. "How badly are you hurt, Bella? The truth – don't try to downplay it." I searched her eyes, trying to ferret out the truth, even if she wasn't willing to admit it. She seemed genuinely surprised by my reaction.

"Hurt?" she asked. Surely she had noticed; she had to be in pain. I shuddered to think of the internal damage I may have caused, harm not as easily visible as the stark contrast of purplish bruises on her pale skin. She sat up, pushing her shoulders back, and rolling her head from side to side as though she was assessing the damage. She seemed confused. Was she in shock?

She finally turned to me. "Why would you jump to that conclusion? I've never been better than I am now."

I squeezed my eyes shut. She was lying. "Stop that."

"Stop what?"

I groaned, pinching the bridge of my nose. "Stop acting like I'm not a monster for having agreed to this."

"Edward!" she gasped. I could smell the scent of fresh tears. "Don't ever say that."

"Look at yourself, Bella. Then tell me I'm not a monster."

I kept my eyes tightly shut, unable to bear the reaction when she finally realized what I had done to her. I winced as I heard her gasp.

"Why am I covered in feathers?" she asked.

Feathers? Was that her only concern? I was growing weary with this charade, pretending that what I had done was anything but heinous. "I bit a pillow," I explained. "Or two. That's not what I'm talking about."

"You…bit a pillow? Why? "

Why did she insist on overlooking the obvious. "Look, Bella!" I snarled, carefully taking her arm and stretching it out, forcing her to look at the evidence of my transgression. "Look at that."

Her eyes grew wide as they scanned her arm and began moving across the rest of her exposed skin. She pulled her hand from mine and pressed her finger on a large mark on her arm, wincing slightly.

"Oh," she whispered, still scanning her skin, taking inventory of all the damage I had caused her. A lump rose in my throat and the anguish I had been enduring all night made its resurgence.

"I'm…so sorry, Bella," I breathed, nearly choking on the words. "I knew better than this. I should not have – " My stomach twisted in knots, a feeling of nausea sweeping over me. I should have known better. I had fought this, tried to talk her out of it. But I was weak. I gave into temptation, gave in to my urges, and look at the result. "I am more sorry than I can tell you."

I threw my head back against the bed and pressed my arm to my face, wishing that blocking my sight could erase what I had done. The only sounds were Bella's shallow breath and beating heart. She hadn't uttered a word. Was she appalled? Could she forgive me for what I had done? Did I even deserve her forgiveness?

It didn't matter that my vision was obstructed; images of the marks across her skin assaulted my mind. I couldn't escape what I had done. Even if Bella could forgive me, I wasn't certain I could forgive myself. It was selfish of me to agree to this when I knew in my heart that it was dangerous. I should have insisted that we wait until she was changed.

I felt her warm touch on my arm, but couldn't bring myself to look at her. I was so ashamed. Her warm fingers wrapped around my wrist and tugged lightly, but I couldn't move. I was frozen in my disgrace.

"Edward," she whispered. "Edward?"

She huffed and released my wrist. The mattress bounced softly as she sank back into it. "I'm not sorry, Edward," she began. "I'm…I can't even tell you. I'm so happy. That doesn't cover it. Don't be angry. Don't. I'm really f –"

My temper flared. "Don't say the word fine. If you value my sanity, do not say that you are fine." I couldn't bear it. The word fine would tell me nothing about how she truly felt. It was trite and overused and, in this particular case, an absolute, downright lie.

"But I am," she whispered.

"Bella," I groaned. "Don't." I didn't understand why she was downplaying this, making it seem as though it were nothing. Had she expected it as well?

"No. You don't, Edward," she snapped.

I was taken aback by the anger in her voice. I had expected her to be angry or upset, but for a very different reason. I moved my arm, restoring my vision. Her eyes flashed with irritation. I stared at her for several beats, trying to decide the correct way to respond.

"Don't ruin this," she said, her voice marginally calmer, yet insistent. "I. Am. Happy."

"I've already ruined this," I murmured, lowering my eyes. Did she really not understand the harm I had done? Was she so willing to look past it, to turn a blind eye?

"Cut it out."

I could see that this conversation was going nowhere. I could not forgive myself for what I had done and she, for whatever reason, refused to accept it. I didn't deserve her comfort or her trust. It was that blind trust that put us in this situation to begin with. What could I do to make her see that?

"Ugh!" She threw her hands in the air. "Why can't you just read my mind already? It's so inconvenient to be a mental mute."

My head jerked quickly to face her. Had I heard her correctly? She wished that I could read her thoughts? "That's a new one," I said. "You love that I can't read your mind."

"Not today." She crossed her arms and blew out a puff of air.

"Why?"

She threw up her arms again and she brought them down, smacking them loudly against my chest. Every muscle in my body tensed; worried that she would inadvertently cause more damage to herself. Her eyebrows knit together as she stared at me for several seconds.

"Because all this angst would be completely unnecessary if you could see how I feel right now!" she exclaimed. "Or five minutes ago, anyway. I was perfectly happy. Totally and completely blissed out. Now – well, I'm sort of pissed, actually."

"You should be angry at me," I whispered.

"Well, I am. Does that make you feel better?"

I breathed a heavy sigh. I didn't want her anger, but couldn't help but feel that it was deserved. "No," I admitted, lowering my eyes. I wished I could take it all back, reverse the sands of time and take back the promise I had made. It didn't matter how wonderful our night together was, it didn't make up for the fact that I could have destroyed her. "I don't think anything could make me feel better now."

"That," she retorted. "That right there is why I'm angry. You are killing my buzz, Edward."

Absurd. I shook my head, frustrated by barrier that seemed to erect between us overnight. We had our difficulties communicating with one another in the past, but never like this. I couldn't reconcile her feelings about our night together with my own. And, although I wanted to do everything in my power to make her happy, I couldn't alter my mood with the flip of a switch. It would take time – time for me to sort this out, time for her to heal.

Bella blew out a slow breath and began picking at her nails, avoiding my eyes. "We knew this was going to be tricky. I thought that was assumed. And then – well, it was a lot easier than I thought it would be. And this is really nothing." She paused, gesturing to a faint purple bruise on her arm. "I think for a first time, not knowing what to expect, we did amazing. With a little practice – "

Practice? She couldn't be serious. I could feel the warm twinge of anger flush across my skin as my temper flared, bubbling up from the pit of my stomach until my mouth could no longer contain the words. "Assumed?" I hissed through clenched teeth. "Did you expect this, Bella? Were you anticipating that I would hurt you? Were you thinking it would be worse? Do you consider the experiment a success because you can walk away from it? No broken bones – that equals a victory?"

She remained surprisingly calm through my tirade. My emotions were overruling my brain and I was too weak to stop it, but her silence only served to increase exponentially the guilt I was feeling. Not only had I harmed her physically, but now verbally and emotionally as well. What kind of man does that to his wife on their honeymoon? Living for so long, trying to blend in, to appear human, I sometimes had to remind myself that I was no longer a man. It was never more clear to me than in this moment that I was truly a monster.

"I didn't know what to expect," she began, "but I definitely did not expect how…how…just wonderful and perfect it was." She lowered her gaze as her lip began to tremble. "I mean, I don't know how it was for you, but it was like that for me."

I placed a finger under her chin, coaxing her to look at me. I needed to see her eyes, to try and find the answers hidden there, but she wouldn't meet my gaze. "Is that what you're worried about?" I asked. "That I didn't enjoy myself?"

"I know it's not the same. You're not human. I just was trying to explain that, for a human, well, I can't imagine that life gets any better than that."

The honesty of her words pierced my heart. I had been so worried about her physical pain, so repulsed by the harm I had caused, that I completely overlooked the significance of the night we spent together. Regardless of the side effects, we had come together as man and wife and consummated our marriage. We expressed our love in a deep and powerful way, but all I could think of was my own self-loathing. I allowed my own concerns to overshadow the significance of our time together, tarnishing what, for all intents and purposes, was the most amazing night I could have ever hoped for.

And here I was, verbally berating my wife for having enjoyed herself – making her believe, albeit inadvertently, that I was repulsed by my actions, that I took no joy in the intimacy we shared. I was a fool. Once again, I allowed my thoughts to run rampant, ignoring the truth right in front of me.

"It seems that I have more to apologize for," I whispered. "I didn't dream that you would construe the way I feel about what I did to you to mean that last night wasn't…well, the best night of my existence. But I don't want to think of it that way, not when you were…"

Her eyes brightened and a small smile formed at the corners of her lips. "Really?" she breathed. "The best ever?"

I clasped her face in my palms, my thumb gently skimming over the pale discoloration on her cheek. "I spoke to Carlisle after you and I made our bargain, hoping he could help me. Of course he warned me that this would be very dangerous for you." I had mulled over my father's words so many times, replayed them over and over in my head in preparation for our wedding night. If I hadn't heard it in his thoughts, I would have wondered if his encouragement was more to bolster my courage than to adequately assess my control. "He had faith in me, though – faith I didn't deserve."

Bella's mouth opened, but I placed my fingers over her lips. I knew that she would insist that Carlisle was right, that his faith was not misplaced. But I wasn't finished. I wanted her to know everything. I had done a poor job of expressing how I felt up to this point and I didn't want to be misunderstood any longer.

"I also asked him what I should expect. I didn't know what it would be for me…what with my being a vampire. Carlisle told me it was a very powerful thing, like nothing else. He told me physical love was something I should not treat lightly. With our rarely changing temperaments, strong emotions can alter us in permanent ways. But he said I did not need to worry about that part – you had already altered me so completely." Her eyes softened and I smiled in response, knowing that she was beginning to understand just how precious she was to me.

"I spoke to my brothers, too. They told me it was a very great pleasure. Second only to drinking human blood." She grimaced a bit. "But I've tasted your blood," I explained, "and there could be no blood more potent than that…I don't think they were wrong, really. Just that it was different for us. Something more."

"It was more. It was everything." She smiled, reaching up and clasping her hand behind my neck, her fingernails scraping softly against my skin.

How to make her understand? She's human and the depth of emotions she experiences aren't nearly as intense as those for my kind. And, then again, Bella also has a propensity for doing whatever she can to ease the suffering of those around her, even to her own detriment. "That doesn't change the fact that it was wrong. Even if it were possible that you really did feel that way."

Her head cocked to the side, her eyes narrowed. "What does that mean? Do you think I'm making this up? Why?"

"To ease my guilt," I said with a shrug. "I can't ignore the evidence, Bella. Or your history of trying to let me off the hook when I make mistakes."

Her expression hardened and the hand that was caressing my neck now gripped my chin tightly. Her face was inches from mine, her hot breath blowing across my face, the fire in her eyes undeniable. "You listen to me, Edward Cullen. I am not pretending anything for your sake, okay? I didn't even know there was a reason to make you feel better until you started being all miserable. I've never been so happy in all my life – I wasn't this happy when you decided that you loved me more than you wanted to kill me, or the first morning I woke up and you were there waiting for me…Not when I heard your voice in the ballet studio or when you said 'I do' and I realized that, somehow, I get to keep you forever. Those are the happiest memories I have, and this is better than any of it. So just deal with it."

It seemed that no matter what I did, I managed to ruin this moment. "I'm making you unhappy now. I don't want to do that."

"Then don't you be unhappy," she countered. "That's the only think that's wrong here."

My long-dead heart tightened in my chest. Could I move past the guilt, allowing myself to experience the happiness that Bella claimed to feel? If that was what I had to do to ensure her happiness, I would do everything in my power to make it happen, even if it meant bottling up my true feelings for her sake. I nodded. "You're right. The past is past and I can't do anything to change it. There's no sense in letting my mood sour this time for you. I'll do whatever I can to make you happy now."

She raised an eyebrow, clearly nonplussed by my sudden submission. I smiled in an effort to assure her of my words and a slow smile formed on her face, matching my own.

"Whatever makes me happy?" she asked, a hint of mischief in her voice.

I ran over the possibilities in my mind, suddenly concerned that I had offered such an open invitation. I was certain that Bella would test me, concoct something that would undoubtedly put me on edge. I was saved when the sound of churning bubbles echoed from her midsection.

"You're hungry," I said, taking the opportunity to circumvent whatever she had in mind. I pulled a pair of pants from the open suitcase and swiftly put them on. I was about to leave for the kitchen when Bella spoke.

"So, why exactly did you decide to ruin Esme's pillows?" she asked. I turned to see her sitting in a mound of feathers, pulling bits of fluff from her hair. I ran my fingers through my own hair and watched a smattering of feathers float to the floor.

How could I explain the pillows without frightening her? "I don't know if I decided to do anything last night," I skirted. "We're just lucky it was the pillows and not you."

I took a deep breath when I saw the look of shock on her face. What did she expect? There was only so much I could expect from my control and with the intensity of the moment, with the raw passion that flowed through me last night, it was a miracle I had enough restraint to bite only the pillows. I admit, the act of biting a human is, in essence, a moment of intimacy – of, even for the briefest moment, becoming one with that person. I would be a liar if I didn't admit that being so close to Bella didn't remind me of that same feeling, didn't stir up those dormant desires within me. Thankfully, love won out over instinct. I did my best to smile, to put her at ease. My admission had clearly surprised her, but I didn't want her to be afraid.

She smiled weakly and slid off the bed, raising her arms above her head as she stretched. The afternoon light streamed through the window and hit her skin, emphasizing the deep purple bruises that bloomed all over her body. With a clearer view, I could see that it was much worse than I had originally feared. I sucked in a sharp breath and had to turn my head to hide my expression. With fists balled at my sides, I squeezed my eyes shut and bit my lip to keep from crying out.

"Do I look that hideous?" she asked.

I couldn't bring myself to answer. What could I say? She had made it abundantly clear that she didn't want me to ruin our morning by becoming upset and blaming myself for her injuries, but how else could she expect me to react? Did she honestly think that the marks on her skin wouldn't disturb me? Wouldn't cause an intense feeling of shame?

I heard her sigh and her light steps walked past me toward the bathroom. I stood frozen, unsure of how to act, not wanting to do anything more to upset her than I already had. I listened intently – listened to her shallow breaths, her beating heart that had picked up only a slight tempo, the sound of skin against skin as she inspected herself. What must she think of me now?

She groaned. Was she in pain? I ran to her side. "Bella?" I asked. Her brow was furrowed and she was frowning at her reflection in the mirror. Her eyes flitted briefly to mine as she plucked a stray feather from her hair.

"I'll never get this all out of my hair!" she whined, pointing to her head. Honestly, I hadn't even noticed the state of her hair. It was a tangled mess atop her head, matted knots with feathers clinging in small clumps. Of course Bella was concerned about that, not even dwelling on the varied injuries she had sustained.

"You would be worried about your hair," I said as I began helping her dislodge the feathers.

She watched me work through the reflection of the mirror and began to smirk. "How did you keep from laughing at this? I look ridiculous."

I continued my task, ignoring her question. As if I could laugh at a time like this. She knew me better than that, but I couldn't blame her for attempting to lighten the mood. I had removed nearly half of the feathers when she crossed her arms and exhaled loudly.

"This isn't going to work," she sighed. "It's all dried in. I'm going to have to wash it out." She turned, wrapping her arms around my waist, and I did my best to keep my posture casual, not to stiffen nervously. "Do you want to help me?" she asked.

I could see where she was leading and I couldn't follow, not so soon after... "I'd better find some food for you," I whispered, easing myself away from her grasp. I stood in the doorway long enough to see her shoulders slump before retreating to the kitchen to prepare some breakfast for her.

I busied myself in the kitchen while I listened to the spattering sounds of water coming from the bathroom, hoping that focusing on a new task would distract me from the nagging guilt in the center of my chest. The refrigerator and cabinets had been stocked with an assortment of foods and I began gathering ingredients, pulling from the knowledge I'd gained from television cooking shows.

They make it look so easy. How hard could it be?

Although it was nearly afternoon, breakfast still seemed to be in order for Bella's first meal of the day. With a whisk in one hand, I lifted an egg from the carton with the other and rapped it lightly on the edge of a bowl. The eggshell shattered on impact, leaving me with a fistful of clear viscous liquid smattered with yellow and the pulverized remains of the shell. I cursed under my breath and tossed the offending egg into the sink, wiping my hand on the dish towel that lay beside it.

I gripped the edge of the counter and lowered my head, taking in a slow, steady breath. Even after my conversation with Bella this morning, after her insistence that she was not hurt or angry, the calm front I presented to her was nothing but that – a front. The turmoil still bubbled inside me, eroding me from the inside out and setting me on edge. I had to get control.

Squeezing my eyes shut, I took deep and measured breaths and began to count. I drew on all my previous experiences, all the lessons Carlisle had taught me, in an effort to reign in my emotions. Now was not the time for me to fall apart. The sound of running water halted and I lifted my eyes toward the bedroom. Bella would be emerging soon and what would she think if she saw me like this. I had to pull myself together.

I wiped the back of my hand across my brow and turned back to the counter, lifting another egg from the carton. Gingerly, I tapped it on the side of the bowl and it rewarded me with a uniform fissure across the surface of the shell. I smiled triumphantly as I pulled the two sides apart and the egg slid easily into the bowl. I repeated the action, feeling marginally more in control of myself, and whisked the eggs until they were frothy. They sizzled as they hit the surface of the pan.

The rest of the preparations went much more smoothly and Bella appeared just as I was depositing her omelet onto a plate. Her hair was wet and combed straight, falling down her back. Tiny droplets of water spotted the fabric of her dress where it had collected and fallen from the ends of her hair. She sat at the small tiled table, ankles crossed, watching me with some measure of curiosity. She eyed the plate hungrily as I set it in front of her and had already begun to eat when I went to retrieve a glass of orange juice.

She was nearly halfway finished with the omelet when I set the glass down. She must have been famished. I eased myself in the chair opposite her. "I'm not feeding you often enough," I murmured.

Her eyes lifted to mine as she swallowed the bite of food that was in her mouth. "I was asleep," she responded. She pointed to the plate with her fork as she stabbed the tines through another piece of egg. "This is really good, by the way. Impressive for someone who doesn't eat."

"Food Network," I said with a smile. My smile grew wider when my response elicited small chuckle.

"Where did the eggs come from?"

"I asked the cleaning crew to stock the kitchen. A first, for this place. I'll have to ask them to deal with the feathers…" I wondered how I would explain the mess. My gaze wandered back to the bedroom, back to the reminders of our night together. The lump in my throat returned and I fought to push it back down. I couldn't allow that to happen again. After all I had done to protect Bella since she came into my life, to see her harmed at my own hands was too much to bear. Never again, I repeated in my mind. I had sworn to love, honor, and protect her and I would do just that.

"Thank you," she said, bringing me out of my reverie. She leaned across the space and pressed her lips softly to mine. I returned the kiss, but pulled back as I felt the familiar spark of fire burn in my belly. Not again.

She lowered her eyes and began tearing small bits of her napkin apart. There was silence for a moment before she looked up at me through her lashes and said, "You aren't going to touch me again while we're here, are you?"

I could hear the disappointment in her voice. I wished she would understand. Her words hung heavy in the air and I wished I could lighten the mood. I reached across, lightly caressing her cheek with my fingers.

"You know that's not what I meant," she murmured.

"I know." I breathed a heavy sigh and withdrew my hand, folding my arms across my chest. "And you're right." She frowned and I could see in her eyes that she didn't want to believe me, that she would continue to press the issue. I swallowed thickly and steeled my resolve. "I will not make love with you until you've been changed," I said. "I will never hurt you again."

A/N: Apologies for the delay – in my defense, I was spending the bulk of my spare time preparing for a Twilight convention (which I'm leaving for tomorrow!). Thanks to everyone for your kind words and continued encouragement. You are the fuel that keeps me going.

Thanks to NellyBear85 for her eagle eye in catching my mistakes. And special thanks to my WC buddy, misticbutterfly, who keeps me focused. I love you gals!