Disclaimer: Stephanie Meyer owns everything in the Twiverse. But this plot is mine :)

So Rosalie is throwing herself at Edward…and not in a good way ;)

Chapter 6: Was It Something I Said?

Edward's POV

Rosalie launches into the void with a shout, interrupting my mental quarrel with Carlisle.

She is driven by blind rage, so reading her mind is of no use.

But for all her physical allurements, her decision to attack arouses the savage within me.

And he roars to life in an instant.

"Edward!" Esme screams.

Rosalie hurls her body into mine, sending us flying through the damaged wall at my back. She lands on top of me, straddling my waist as a pile of rocky debris breaks our fall. Soft manicured hands close around my throat like a vice, blood-red eyes boring a hole in my soul.

"Die!" she hisses as she bears down on my throat. "Die, you filthy liar!"

She is strong to be sure, her death-grip compromising my windpipe with each flex of her fingers. The weight of her body atop mine gratifies some untapped region of my teenage roots, and for a moment, I revel in our position.

But as my larynx begins to concede, the monster within me tires of being dominated by this presumptuous newborn.

He wants to dismantle her.

Esme tries again. "Edward!"

I cannot tell from her thoughts if she cries out in warning or worry, but her voice sobers me.

And I remember.

Rosalie is no ordinary newborn.

Underneath it all, she is a woman:

A woman who has been violated by the man she loved.

A woman who has been turned into a monster by a man she'd never met.

A woman who has been told a horrifying truth by a man she thought she could trust.

A woman who is scared and scarred and in need of sympathy.

Her current focus on my destruction notwithstanding.

"Carlisle." I grind out the words. "Get Esme... out of here."

"Don't move," Rosalie growls under her breath.

"Upstairs!" I repeat.

Esme is frantic. "We can't leave him here, Carlisle."

"I wouldn't dare," he affirms.

Their solidarity arrests Rosalie's attention and reminds her of an unfortunate truth.

She is outnumbered.

Distracted, she slackens the pressure on my neck, and I raise my forearms in front of my face and press them against her arms, breaking her hold. Rosalie tumbles to the ground as I roll from beneath her and leap to my feet.

Her surprised gasp is laced with malice.

Thank heaven he didn't need to strike her, Esme sighs.

I give no response as I speed out of the room.

Up the stairs and out the front door I fly, the cadence of her furious steps tapping out a staccato rhythm in my head. She hurls an endless stream of curses at my fleeing frame, but they are of no concern.

I must get her away from the house.

She is stronger, but I am quicker, leaping through treetops and out of her clutches as her mind works against her on my telepathic behalf.

Her ire increases with my every successful evasion, and her patience runs out.

"Stop running, you coward!" she shouts as we come into a clearing. "And face me!"

My sympathy evaporates.

I come to a stop and whirl around, dropping into a low crouch.

She is surprised but quickly adjusts with an elegant somersault onto a nearby boulder.

Venom fills my mouth as I glare at her.

I am a gentleman, so I will not initiate engagement.

But when she comes for me-and she will-I shall end her.

And take great pleasure in it.

From her elevation on the rock, she studies me as her thoughts continue to darken.

"Why do you run?"

"I tend to flee when a lady attacks."

She is startled by the compliment but no more than I am.

"Is this a frequent occurrence, then?"

I do not reply, maintaining my defensive stance and focus.

She will not blindside me again.

Watching me with a disdainful eye, she licks her teeth, flicking her right incisor.

Awareness lights on her face.

The tooth is too sharp.

Her startled eyes leave mine to inspect her body, noting every change and enhancement, and her thoughts return to my earlier words.

"You are a vampire."

The malediction bounces around her mind as she catalogs all she has done and seen since awaking, and fear seizes her heart anew.

Her soft inhale makes me avert my eyes.

I should have delivered a gentler blow, used a rose petal or two in my declaration.

She balls her trembling hands into fists, and her forced bravery quiets my inner beast.

Even he cannot harm such a spotless doe.

I slowly rise from my lowered position, pausing once, and she makes no move to strike.

She is lost.

I reach my full height, suppressing a foreign urge to coax her fingers out of their protective shell, settling instead for softening my gaze as I drag my eyes to hers.

The shimmering crimson nearly brings me to my knees.

"What has happened to me?"

Her voice is firm despite her terror, and a flood of admiration steals my breath.

But she thinks I am stalling.

"I asked you a question."

I use her irritation to diffuse my confusing emotions. "You are a vampire."

Her mind recoils, but she does not falter. "How?"

"Dr. Cullen found on you the street and brought you to our home."

"How did he find me?"

I hesitate.

I do not want to scare her any more than necessary.

"Edward, please."

Her plaintive plea pulls the words from my lips. "He smelled the blood."

A flawless hand flies to her mouth. "Did he try to kill me?"

"No." I step toward her, and she flinches.

"I'm sorry," I say.

She is embarrassed. "Don't be."

The urge to hold her floods my limbs, and my hands seek safety in my pockets as I continue. "He did not want anyone to find you in such a state, so he carried you to our home."

"On foot?"

"Yes."

"By himself?"

"We are rather strong." The corner of my mouth lifts. "Perhaps you noticed that when you threw me through the wall."

She almost smiles. "Continue."

"Once Dr. Cullen brought you home, he laid you in the parlor to assess your injuries. There were several cuts and fractures not to mention all the blood. He..."

At the second mention of blood, Rosalie's hand slides down her chin to her neck. Her forehead creases as she grips the flaring column, her eyes aflame.

"My throat burns!"

"I know."

"Am I..." Her voice rises to a near-shriek. "I want blood, don't I?"

"Yes. And we can..."

Wild eyes return to mine. "Are we going to kill someone now? Is that why you led me out here?"

"Rosalie..."

She blurs back and forth across the rock, her thoughts racing away from her.

"That's why I can't go home. Because I would try to kill my parents! My parents, my friends, and anyone else I passed along the way. I would want to kill my own parents! My god!"

"Miss Hale."

The formal address gets her attention, and she halts her rant.

Long enough to glare at me.

"You did this."

"No." I maintain my stance. "Dr. Cullen brought you..."

"Both men," she mutters. "And all the same."

I flinch at the implication but remain silent.

It is unwise to antagonize a ranting woman.

That is, a ranting newborn.

Rosalie leaps off the boulder, noting the softness beneath her feet as she lands. She wants to inquire about her altered physicality, but the fire in her throat will not be ignored.

"You will feel better after you hunt," I offer.

"Better?" she sneers as she advances. "You think drinking someone's blood would make this better?"

I sigh. "Not someone."

"Then what?" She arches a perfect eyebrow. "Are you going to offer me a large squirrel or some sort of rabid raccoon?"

I say nothing, but my face must reveal the truth.

"I'm right, aren't I?" she laughs. "You drink the blood of animals! Oh, this is rich! The sweet little vampire family who fancies itself more humane because they kill animals instead of people. Well, what would you recommend? Chicken? Deer? I don't suppose you have any horse blood lying around..."

Do not attack her. Do not attack her. Do not attack her.

"Afraid to speak, boy? Didn't your father teach that it's impolite to ignore a lady?"

I push my hands further into my pockets, quelling the desire to strike. "My upbringing is none of your concern."

"Oh, but it is." She is close enough where I can almost taste the musky jasmine of her skin. "Because I am here now and I cannot go home. Your father made sure of that."

I want to spit in her face. "He is not my father!"

"Edward."

I whip my head around to see Dr. and Mrs. Cullen standing in the clearing.

I refuse to read their minds or faces.

Rosalie's angry eyes dart between her maker and me, her proverbial hackles rising on instinct.

"Why don't you return to the house?" the doctor continues. "Esme and I will assist Miss Hale."

The latter smiles at me, but her thoughts are mocking.

'Yes, run home, little boy. Let Daddy clean up your mess.'

A tremor snakes up my spine, and my fingers tingle with the itch to attack.

"Mind your manners, girl," I hiss. "I am no one's boy."

Confusion mars her features, and she wonders if she spoke aloud.

You are losing control, the doctor thinks. Go home and reclaim yourself.

Please, Edward, his wife adds. You have protected her this long.

I glare at Mrs. Cullen, and her husband's voice sharpens. "Go."

With a withering glance at the newborn, I walk past the Cullens at human speed.

I will not give her the satisfaction of watching me run.

Once her mind is out of range, I race toward the sanctuary of my room with a single determining thought:

Rosalie Hale does not exist.

Thanks for reading! xo