memory
(part three)
Be careful who you make memories with. Those things can last a lifetime.
- Ugo Eze
o.o.o
FEBRUARY
o.o.o
Charlie Swan - Chief of Police and partial vampire - is a shrewd man and while Edward's read of his mind is slippery at best, it's been more than clear that Charlie has been building toward a particular attitude as soon as he realized that vampires exist, that his daughter is dating one, and that vampires mated for life. By the Chief's estimation, Bella and Edward's relationship had never been casual and that, in turn, mean that it was serious. It was going somewhere.
Edward had made his intentions perfectly clear, he'd thought - but of course, it is the prerogative of fatherhood to put the fear of God into boyfriends - mates - of daughters. Aro had relished in it. And now, as Charlie steps into the kitchen only partially divested of his holster, it seems that it is time for Edward's second shovel-talk.
"Son, I think it's about time you and I had a conversation," Charlie says.
Edward stands. No point in delaying the inevitable. He follows Charlie onto the front porch, mindful of his body language and doing his best to decipher the static-cling of Charlie's thoughts, which is easier said than done. Much to his amusement, Bella takes it upon herself to eavesdrop - rather poorly, he might add, as her weight creaks on floorboards and gives away her location - on the conversation.
Charlie levels him with a stoic stare. "If you hurt her, I will personally take a torch to that indestructible skin of yours and make you wish that you'd died human," Charlie threatens darkly. "My little girl might be special, but she's still mine and I'll be protecting her for as long as I can. And I think you know you've got more than me to be worried about when it comes to that girl, because I'd bet dollars to donuts that Aro would have you strung up sooner than she could shed a tear."
Edward is grateful for his strong constitution, as the mere mention of Aro in the context of this subject reminds him rather vividly of all of Aro's silent threats which were unsurprisingly more graphic than Charlie's heavy-handed hints of violence.
He raises his chin, locking his jaw. "I see. I hope it isn't imprudent to say, but I was hoping that you understood my intentions to be fairly permanent, Chief."
"Yeah," Charlie grunts. "Mates, that's what you call it. A forever sort of thing, I'm told."
Edward clears his throat. "Ah, well, yes. That is certainly part of it. But I have my eye on a rather human tradition, if you catch my meaning."
"Boy, have you hit your head?"
"No, sir."
Charlie snorts incredulously. "For God's sake, do I really need to remind you that she's fifteen still? Another half-year and I won't be able to do much to stop you, but if you've got a plan in mind, I'm telling you no right now. She isn't ready. Hell, she might never be ready. Can you deal with that?"
"I assure you, Chief, when I do ask you for Bella's hand, it will be with the fullest confidence that she will answer the way I hope she will," he proclaims. "Until then, believe that I am as committed to Bella's happiness as you are."
"You're not a father," Charlie mutters. "Her happiness means something different to me than it does to you and you might never understand that."
"I might not," Edward agrees quietly. After all, full-fledged male vampires could apparently reproduce, but there was no indication - even from Alice - that Bella would be able to carry any child to term, let alone fall pregnant to start with. For Carlisle, the idea of reproduction had been occupying his thoughts for weeks, a conundrum that must be puzzled out by explicit scientific standards. For Edward, it was a point of uncertainty. He wasn't even sure he wanted to be a father, let alone be willing to risk Bella's continued health.
Perhaps it was a conundrum for himself, as well.
Charlie sighs after a moment, clapping his hand on Edward's shoulder. "You are a good kid. Couldn't have hoped for better, really, but it's my prerogative to give you a hard time when the mood strikes. You get that, Edmund?"
He laughs in relief. "Yes, sir."
(That went as well as any man could hope.)
o.o.o
o.o.o
For the first time in his life - even since his human years - Edward makes a production out of Valentine's Day. He'd never seen the appeal until he had someone he wished to lavish attention upon. He enlists Alice's help in arranging the details, but he takes responsibility for thinking of the activities that he and his mate will experience together. A bookstore. A concert. A visit to the meadow -
And his mother's bracelet.
"I want to give you something," he murmurs, stroking the curve of her cheek under the starry night sky, enthralled by the way Bella leans into his touch. "After he turned me, while I was in the burning fever, Carlisle went back to the house of my parents and collected some things he thought I might want. I remember being so angry with him, livid at his audacity, at the intrusion into my life…But when I came back from my rebellion, I was so grateful that he had the foresight. I cannot tell you how much of a comfort it was to have the pipe my father smoked, the jewelry my mother wore…"
Her heart flutters audibly as he presents the silvery bracelet, the moonlight catching on the dainty diamond heart.
"My frozen heart," he muses, looking at her from beneath his eyelashes.
Bella leans forward until her hand meets his chest. She shakes her head, tears in her eyes. "Never frozen," she whispers. "You are the embodiment of warmth and love. There's no way this heart was ever frozen."
He kisses her, nothing more than a brush of lips, an exchange of breath. "Well…not since you thawed it."
I love you, she thinks - and she pushes her feelings forward, all of her love and affection and hope.
Edward kisses her again, a rush to the head as he listens to her body betray her excitement, her passion. I love you, he returns, complete in his devotion.
(He is eclipsed by her love - and she his.)
o.o.o
o.o.o
(And then it all goes to hell and Edward's life is reduced to a series of memories that tumble head-first down a spiraling, light-and-love-and-life-eating black hole.)
o.o.o
o.o.o
You're playing baseball? Bella clarifies with a brush of her hand, mind sliding smoothly against his own with a sense of bemusement as she realizes the reasons for the peculiar requirement. Her surprise is well-earned. Because of a thunderstorm?
Edward tilts his head down to catch her eyes, grinning widely at the prospect of sharing this with his mate. Baseball is an American past-time and Edward in particular had a great yen for it; it was another relic of his human life, an interest that had bloomed in his late teenage years. If he hadn't been drawn toward the Army to serve his country and if the Spanish Influenza hadn't taken him, he's sure that he might have pursued a career in baseball. He'd been good enough for the leagues, at least, and that hadn't changed when he'd been turned into a vampire.
"Would you like to watch?"
(Looking back - he should have never offered. It had been his first mistake.)
The large clearing where the Cullens prefer to play baseball is roughly ten minutes running top speed away from their remote house, far enough from Forks proper that the humans won't think twice about the thundering crash of a rainstorm over the Olympic range and skirting the outermost edges of the La Push treaty boundary. Edward runs with Bella hitched to his back, racing Emmett and unable to quell the desire to show off for his mate - an urge that doesn't fade as the actual game progresses. Esme acts as referee, as she always does, and Bella stands at her elbow, watching the spaces between the bases with a curious eye.
Edward is curious, too, wondering if Bella will be able to see all the competitive nuance with her admittedly-better-than-human-but-not-as-good-as-vampire vision. He hopes so. It's instinct to prove that he's talented, that he's fast and strong and clever. He knows from reading the minds of his coven members - the males in particular - that this desire to prove his worth to his mate isn't something that fades, exactly. It does get more manageable, though.
(Until it isn't.)
The game is going great - perfect, actually, because his team is beating Emmett's and that's just the sort of gloating that Edward is comfortable with -
He notices it on the peripheral of his telepathy at first. Edward has always made it a point to never monitor the minds around him and this is especially true for Alice, whose unguarded mind is akin to a swirling vortex of possibilities that makes his head spin -
Sometimes, though, it's unavoidable. Often, Jasper will project a thought tinged with such emotion that it's like a neon sign, which is forgivable because Jasper hasn't quite gotten the hang of occluding his mind the way Carlisle and Alice and even Rosalie have -
Alice, though - when her mind is open and an intense vision slips, it is less like a neon sign and more like a five-alarm fire spreading rapidly through her mentalscape. And sometimes - not terribly often - sometimes a vision will hit Alice like a freight train and her unguarded mind will project more loudly than a broken sound barrier.
The vision she has now echoes through her mind like a sonic boom -
A blond vampire, dirty and unkempt, surrounding Bella in a ballet studio, in a forest, in her bedroom -
Bella's throat ripped clean open - blood, so much blood spilling forth and soaking clothes and skin and dirt and wood -
Edward's hands wrapped around a neck -
Red hair -
Screaming -
"Alice, what was that?" Edward demands. He doesn't wait for a response; it's pointless; Alice is still in the thrall of the vision. Edward blurs over to Alice, bending to stare hard in her unseeing eyes - and then racing to Bella's side before Alice can even gasp out an explanation. He suppresses an aggressive snarl, but only just.
"Nomads," Alice reveals in shock and her mind clamor and clangs around the vision. "Three of them. They were drawn by the sound of our game. And it's too late to fall back - they can hear us now."
I'm sorry, Edward, she adds shakily and even though the rest of the minds around him are rumbling loud in panic and confusion, it is Alice's whisper-thin thought that shakes Edward to his core -
He turns his back to his mate, hiding her slip of a frame with the lithe bulk of his body, reaching backward around her body until he can splay her hand across her lower back, pressing the front of her body to the back of his securely. It might be enough to hide her scent, or at least buy enough time that he can -
Bella's fingers slip against his skin and he can feel her reel in shock at the vision that is at the forefront of his mind. He can't spare it another thought, though he longs to turn and comfort her -
The vampires are coming. Curious minds, but spiked with hunger and a primal beast that is close to the surface. Human-drinkers. Traditionalist nomads. One mated pair, and a third companion who seems content to follow the leader at the moment - but maybe they can exploit that, pit the third against the leader or separate the mates or -
No. No, fighting them outright wasn't an option, not with Bella so comparatively breakable.
He would wait for the soonest opportunity, and then he would run. He couldn't do it now, as that would be too obvious that the Cullens were trying to hide something - someone - from the nomads. Edward hopes that his scent will layer over Bella's enough, but even as he thinks it, he has doubts - Alice's vision had been so crystal clear and Bella's scent was so strong, so intriguing and sweet and other -
His growl is sub-vocal, even as Bella brushes her fingers against her back and says, I'm okay. That's not going to happen.
For the first time, Edward does not care what Bella thinks. Her safety is the most important -
Three vampires enter the clearing and immediately, Jasper and Emmett have assessed that the greatest threat is the gaunt-faced blond leader, followed quickly by the red-haired mate. The third, the dark-skinned one, seems soft in comparison to the other two. That's good.
Edward doesn't dare move as the scene unfolds, his hand an immobile force against Bella's back even as his muscles remain tense, ready to pounce or attack or run or something -
"Hello," Carlisle says pleasantly. "Passing through?"
"We heard your game," says the dark-skinned one, acting as spokesperson, an arrangement that the coven-leader insists upon for strategic advantages. "I am Laurent. These are James and Victoria. I don't suppose we would be able to play?"
"Unfortunately, our game as just ended," Carlisle responds apologetically.
"What a shame," says Laurent.
And then -
James recognizes Alice and it is a tumultuous wave of information tinged with blood-hungered pining and a vicious grudge as Edward learns more about Alice's human life than even Alice had been aware - learns that James had stalked her, had murdered her family, had driven her into an asylum while Alice was still so young and that an old vampire had protected Alice, had thwarted James until James killed him in response for turning his singer -
James is still utterly incensed by this slight, by the haunting inability to taste Alice's human blood and that is -
Well, if that isn't just the sweetest scent, James thinks as he catches the faintest whiff of Bella on the damnable breeze.
Edward growls defensively.
(That is his second mistake).
"You brought a snack?" James purrs with an alien tilt of his head, dirty blonde hair falling across his face. "How convenient. She's a bit small to share, though."
"Forgive me," Carlisle says carefully, shifting his stance ever so slightly, his thoughts roving for a non-violent solution to a situation that is unfolding with such speed. "But I'm afraid you have a misapprehension about our family."
"Oh, I misunderstand nothing," James promises. His thoughts flash between Alice and Bella's scent, about how much of a fair trade it would be. Bella smelled almost as sweet as Alice, almost as young and innocent. What would this coven care about losing their little pet when they already had the pet that should have been his?
Bella trembles against Edward's back and he realizes belatedly that she is still touching his skin, that she is reading the thoughts that pass through his mind - that she is watching it all play out just as thoroughly as Edward is. Sharing the burden - but no, not quite that. Bella is…using Edward's gift for herself, a realization that is peripheral because as he remains focused on James' mind, Bella switches decisively to Alice's thoughts -
(He will be amazed later that such a thing is possible, that Bella could somehow manage to borrow Edward's range - to effectively borrow his entire gift with a single touch.)
Edward, she thinks right before she shoves an image of her Volturi pendant right into his mind -
And when he doesn't respond, she latches onto his telepathy with as much power she can muster, inserting herself into the driver's seat and absolutely flooring it as she twists his power to do her bidding. He winces as she warps his telepathy, manipulating it to communicate directly with Alice -
(How was that even possible? Third mistake - underestimating Bella.)
If there had ever been any doubt that Bella is the daughter of a police officer, that she is possessed of a quick, analytic mind, that she shares the same blood as the most ruthless vampire Edward has ever come across - well. Bella shatters all illusions to the contrary as she spins a plan that just might get them all out of this sticky situation -
It doesn't. While Laurent runs away in fear of his life upon spotting the pendant Bella brandishes in the direction of the nomads, it quickly becomes clear that James doesn't care about the Volturi and nether does Victoria.
Edward scoops Bella up, turns on his heel, and runs -
We can't just run away! She argues.
Yes, we can!
He's a tracker - what about Charlie?
Charlie isn't my mate!
You're not being reasonable! Think for a second, Edward!
He doesn't slow and he doesn't change track. What would you have me do?
La Push, Bella decides after a moment. The wolves.
Alice can't see the wolves, Edward retorts, but he hesitates. He hadn't considered the werewolves, not for a second. Maybe it didn't matter that Alice was blind to the future if the wolves were directly involved; maybe they relied too much on Alice to predict the steps they should take. Maybe with the wolves, they could draw James out, and then surprise him with an ambush.
Bella senses his agreement and borrows his telepathy again, pushing the new plan out to Alice and Jasper and then -
Sam! Bella calls out telepathically - over and over and over again, blood dripping steadily from her nose.
Bloodsuckers, Sam acknowledges with a troubled realization that a leech was in his mind. His massive wolf form appears not a moment later, running beside Edward with a ferocious growl of warning.
Bella faints after she pulls away from Edward's mind - leaving him, Alice, and Jasper to rendeavous with the wolves as they cross the treaty line for the first time since it had been established -
He can't spare a moment to be worried for his mate's health. Her heart is beating and she doesn't seem to be in pain, so he can only conclude that she had over-extended her ability and there wasn't much Edward could do about that, honestly - so after her gently sets her down against the base of a tree, he turns his attention to things he can control.
They make a plan. It's not good. He doesn't like it. But it's better than any other alternative.
It wasn't as if a peaceable resolution was an option.
They all separate, dispatched to handle different tasks, and Edward struggles not to feel as if he's completing a fool's errand as he leaves his mate in the middle of enemy territory with a new enemy on the way -
(It is his last mistake.)
Bella fights back, proving that she is not half as helpless as he'd like to think, but in the end it is clearly not enough.
Because -
Because by the time Edward realizes that he has been evaded, by the time he runs back to the clearing where he'd left Bella with Alice, by the time he -
James is biting Bella. Drinking her blood. Killing her.
He doesn't pause. He doesn't think. Edward races forward, rips James away from his mate's neck - effectively aiding James in ripping Bella's throat out, just as Alice had foreseen -
It's too late. It's too late. He roars as James is ripped apart, caught in the throws of rage and mourning and he will never be whole again -
Bella stares up at him for seconds at a time, pale and half-sightless by heavy eyelids. She can't hear him while he professes his love. He isn't even completely sure that she sees him because when he touches her and her skin is so cold, he doesn't feel her in his mind. He doesn't - she isn't - and her heart is slowing -
Please, God, no.
"Bella," he says brokenly, cradling her jaw in his hand. Desperate and gasping when her hand reaches up to touch his cheek in turn. "Can you hear me?"
I love you, says her mind, but it doesn't feel like her because she's fading and she's fading quickly as blood pools beneath her body and beneath his knees and nothing can stop the steady seep between fingers frantically trying to hold her skin together -
I'm sorry I don't have enough blood.
Edward's mind stutters -
Blood.
It always came down to blood.
Blood had ruled him since the moment he'd opened his eyes to this new life and he had only stopped resenting the thrall once it became clear that Bella's blood was special, that it made it possible for them to love each other, that -
Bella's blood is special.
"Bring me blood!" he shouts. "All the blood you can find - quickly - anything will do!"
"Edward?"
"Go!" he roars and even as Bella's eyes close again and even as he applies pressure to the gaping, gory wound of her throat, he doesn't lose the desperate hope that has seized him.
Blood was the solution - of course.
Alice returns with a rabbit and Edward does not hesitate to rip the head from the body, does not flinch away from forcibly prying Bella's jaw open so that the gush of hot blood will fall into her mouth. His other hand rubs at her throat, trying to stimulate the need to swallow, and she chokes for air until her body begins to respond - drinking the blood that he is offering her, again and again.
He loses count of how many small animals are sacrificed to replenishing Bella's body. It doesn't matter, not when the evidence that it's working is so obvious - the mortal injury slowly begins to heal, faster than any human, nearly as perfect and efficient as a werewolf. Her body warms. She seems to be more aware. She certainly realizes, at some point, that he is still hand-feeding rabbits and squirrels to her, his hands slick with crimson but his chest tight with elation -
"That's it, love," Edward encourages. "Just drink."
Bella does.
And then she drinks more.
Until she pushes him away, uncaring of the arterial spray that paints her newly-rosy cheeks. Her fingers close strong around his wrists, a flare of pain alight in her eyes. "It's happening," she announces, baring her teeth to an agony that Edward is all-too familiar with -
Bella is saved and damned in one slash of a moment.
o.o.o
MARCH
o.o.o
It was a desperate gamble to feed Bella that blood - and even as she lay prone and healed and profusely hot to the touch in the guest room, surely undergoing the transformation borne from James' bite, he is still uncertain as to what he has done to his mate.
Edward regarded his own change as unnatural. Against God. An abomination. Even with all of Carlisle's compassion and the sheer joy that Edward has felt in recent months, he is absolutely certain that he is a damned creature.
And now he has just damned his mate, the other half of his heart and soul, to the same fate.
Or worse - a bastardized version of the same fate.
Carlisle didn't know what Bella would be like when she woke. If she would be cognizant or sane. If she would remember what happened. If she would even wake at all, honestly. There wasn't a precedent for this as Bella had been mostly human but just vampire enough to outstrip human intelligence, to be just durable enough, to be gifted beyond comparison -
Would she keep that spark of her humanity? Would she become like the immortal children the Volturi had banned? Had Edward - had he stained her somehow in slicking her torn throat with fresh blood all in a fumbling attempt to keep her alive long enough for the venom to take hold and do its job?
(And was this how the first vampire was created? By a feast of blood on the brink of death thousands of years ago? Was there merit to the fiction written by humans?
Was Bella even changing at all?)
It was difficult to tell.
Bella didn't make a sound - not once. She lay perfect and still as her heart galloped with the heat of venom tracing through her veins, but she made not a single noise to voice the agony brought by the burning as cells transformed -
She simply lay on the bed, hands crossed just below her ribcage, chest rising and falling steadily.
And Edward could do nothing but watch, waiting in anticipation that was near-painful.
None of them had answers. Jasper, for all that he had seen newborns turn, had never heard of a silent change. Carlisle could only monitor her vital signs with a furrow to his brow. Esme took to fussing with pillows and blankets that Bella was likely unaware of altogether. Emmett was somber. Rosalie was pinched, tense as she breezed into the room to check every hour on the hour for any change.
And Alice could see nothing -
Not Edward's future hanging in the balance of this would-be transformation and nothing of Bella's fate.
(But this is true, this is the only thing that is certain: if Bella did not live, then Edward would follow her into the afterlife.)
o.o.o
o.o.o
Bella wakes up.
It is not what he expects.
First, she does not seem to wake with any sort of urgency- she just opens her eyes, staring at the blanket on her body for moment, blinking a few times as she takes in her surroundings -
And second, her heart still beats.
One heavy, wet, fragrant thud per minute.
He can do nothing but stare as she looks at him, her eyes still that unbelievable shade of mossy green, her brow knit in thought as she says, "He bit me." She feels at her neck where thick, roping scars should be, but the flesh is smooth and pale and unblemished -
And once a minute, the artery lining her throat jumps in a clear pulse.
He flinches.
He's ruined her - she's -
"What? What is it?"
Edward, do you need me? Is Bella okay? Is - what is that sound?
Edward doesn't have the mind to answer either Carlisle or Bella with any amount of clarity. He manages to mumble, "Your heart" but it isn't any kind of explanation for any of this strangeness -
Bella is standing, radiating heat and confusion. "What about my heart? It's fine."
"It's beating," Edward tells her.
Her heart is beating -
That's impossible -
The future is changing, Edward, it's -
What's going on? I don't understand -
Bella arches her brows, bemused by his observation and decidedly not understanding what has him so perturbed. She shoots him a funny look, then says, "Yeah, I know. Otherwise, we wouldn't be talking, would we?"
"You were bitten and your heart is beating," he reiterates.
It's the best he can do to explain - he honestly just doesn't have words -
He doesn't understand why -
Bella gasps, cupping her hand over her heart as it beats once again. "Oh, my God," she breathes, sinking to the floor boneless with eyes widened in shock. She looks up at him, breathing deeply and evenly as they both listen to the next beat of her heart. "What's happening to me?"
He wants to comfort her -
But it's not as easy as that - there is something wrong - not right - he's ruined her -
"Carlisle!" he yells out -
Carlisle will know what to do.
(Except that Carlisle does not know what to do.)
o.o.o
o.o.o
Bella is both human and vampire.
It makes her other.
It also makes her alive.
You're alive, Edward says firmly after he has shown her the memories that will haunt him for the rest of eternity, those final moments leading to the end of her life and the beginning of this strange journey they have found together. That is all that matters.
o.o.o
o.o.o
She has trouble adjusting - more trouble than the rest of them had, to be honest, and Edward can only chalk it up to the fact that her senses aren't constant, not the way his are. Bella's hearing is incredibly selective and she has a hard time not zeroing in on noises that are amplified so entirely by the change. Touch and sight are more even-keeled, but she is often lost to scent, dizzy with the spiraling fragrances of the world -
It is all he can do to comfort her as he sings her to sleep. He curses the March winds shrieking around the house and cradles his mate securely, comfortingly between his thighs as he plays a lullaby for her -
It doesn't feel like enough.
o.o.o
o.o.o
And just when they believe they have fully adjusted to all of Bella's recent changes, just when it seems like they have a handle on what exactly has changed and just when it seems that Bella is ready to venture back out into the world -
Bella does something unexpected.
It is, he thinks, partially his fault. He might have known better than to gallivant around Bella when he is still covered in the messy evidence of his most recent hunt, blood streaked across his skin and clothing and his temper still swelling his scent from his latest bout with Emmett. In retrospect, he supposes he must seem rather seductive to her - it is the same for other mated couples, after all, that visceral reaction, that oblique connection between blood and sex -
It's just that he hadn't expected that Bella would crowd him against a wall, guide his lips to hers unerringly, and twist his world into a bundle of lust and tension. He responds to her attentions without thought, twisting them until her back is against the wall, his lips on her neck with his hands tracing the sensual curve of her spine -
And then her swollen lips are slipping against the edge of his jaw, following a rusty stain of blood on his skin, the contact between them blistering with heat and raw passion and then her mouth is latched over his Adam's apple and his hips stutter forward. He presses against the softness of her lower stomach, spine quivering in pleasure -
Bella bites, sinking her teeth deep into the tenderness of Edward's throat -
Oh.
His breath hitches, molten heat spreading through his entire body as he applies pressure to the back of her neck, inviting her bite so that she might suckle - so that she can more easily drink the venom-and-blood swimming through his cold bloodstream -
It feels unimaginably good.
There are no barriers between their minds, and their bodies are drawn together in kind. He wants her just as much as he had wanted her that first day -
Wants to press himself deep inside the heat of her body, feel her come apart around him - his cock, his fingers, his mouth. Anything. Everything -
He wants to fuck her, even as she slips her little fangs from his flesh, lapping against his skin, her chest heaving and the scent of her arousal clouding his mind -
He growls at her as she pulls away, limpid eyes gazing up at him with sheer want. She licks the taste of his blood, his venom from her lips, then tilts her chin up in invitation for another crash of their lips - for surely the completion of the ache of their sexes - she smells so close -
-Edward! Oh, my God! Don't make me come up there -
Get in, brother!
For the love of Christ, I need to run with Ali, now - all that lust -
Edward -
Isabella.
He pulls away, tilting his head to the side. Then, with only a slash of irritation to match the mortification of his blatant arousal still pressed against her curvy little body, he announces, "Mele has arrived."
(And it's probably a good thing that Mele's timing is so wretched, for Edward was certainly only moments from slaking his lust - and Bella deserves better than a romp in the hallway.
Honestly, Edward deserves better than that, too.
It's better this way. Or at least, that is what he tells himself.)
o.o.o
APRIL
o.o.o
Mele is not what he expected. Or rather, she is doing things that are not expected, though after the peeks he has glimpsed of her mind, he can't honestly say that he is terribly shocked that her approach with Bella is so -
Unforgiving is the word that comes to mind.
He doesn't like it. Although he understands all the reasons why Bella must be trained - he even agrees that it is for her own good and it wasn't at all unusual for newborn vampires to undergo a period of acclimatization to their new skills - even Carlisle demanded that the first year of Edward, Esme, Rosalie, and Emmett's new lives to be punctuated with a series of physical training sessions meant to introduce the new capabilities of their vampire bodies.
It's just that Mele is training Bella like one would train a soldier and that goes very much against the grain of how he views his mate. Bella is gentle, a bookworm with an eye for calculation. She isn't like the Volturi stock from which she was born. She isn't ruthless like Aro, nor coldly practical like Sulpicia. She isn't even as naturally defensive as Charlie.
Mele does not seem to care. She pushes Bella and then demands better - and Bella, being the perfectionist he has come to know her as, continues to rise to the challenge set before her.
Still, he does not agree with the way Mele is going about things, but he also cannot find it in himself to set his foot down and prevent the training from happening. The reasons why Mele is training Bella with such aptitude are decisive and reasonable. Bella must be able to defend herself. And they must know the extent of her capabilities.
And as Rosalie points out, Edward doesn't have to like it.
o.o.o
o.o.o
(Still, he watches Bella become self-actualized with nothing short of awe and reverence.
She is a force to be reckoned with, completely in control of her bloodlust and her body and her power, her mind ticking in the background in a plethora of half-formed ideas and plans and he just knows that she's as important to the world as she is to him -
Alice all but confirms it, smiling coyly when Edward catches the fuzzy glimpse of a vision that sweeps across Alice's psyche - of Bella standing tall before a trio of Kings - of Bella in a lab, frowning down at a microscope - of Bella staring at a television monitor with poorly-concealed anticipation - of Bella changing the world for the better -
Always Bella.
"What was that?" he breathes with wide eyes.
Alice only shakes her head. "That would be telling."
In other words: Edward will just have to be patient.)
o.o.o
o.o.o
She sweeps into his room reeking of exhaustion, her eyes dark and tinted with shadows, hair pulled over one shoulder to show off the gently seductive slope of her neck. She doesn't look so different after the change, probably because she'd already been physically perfect before venom was reintroduced into her body and so there was nothing to fix. Rosalie was much the same, although her physical perfection was a quirk of nature; Edward knows from his own distant human memories that the transformation from human to vampire had vastly improved his own appearance, to say nothing of the obvious miracles surrounding both Esme and Emmett's changes.
Bella, though, she simply seems to have reached the peak of her physical health - just a bit taller, a tad rounder in her curves, the last remnants of baby fat melted off her bones. She looks both woman and girl, just the same as Alice. A certain timeless quality that will lend itself well to the playing-human aspect of immortality. Bella will be able to hide in plain sight.
It's a relief.
All the things that could have gone wrong -
He delivers his undivided attention to his fatigued mate, pushing his journal away from his lap to hold his arms out in invitation. "You don't have to pretend you're not exhausted, love."
"Actually, I do," she contradicts softly, folding herself onto his lap with her forehead pressed against his shoulder. She's so soft and small against him, fitting against his body like the matching piece of a lost puzzle, her scent wafting into his nose, tangy and sweet and tart. Mouthwatering, honestly, and it is all he can do to tighten his arms around her waist, relishing in her weight balanced across his thighs. "It's part of Mele's training," she continues casually.
"Her goal is to make you collapse from fatigue?" Edward questions.
"Her goal is to determine how long I can stay awake sustained on only blood," she corrects. "And then her goal will be to determine how long I can stay awake sustained on only food."
Ah, yes. He wasn't ignorant to this, of course, but Bella conveying the parameters of her training disturbed him all over again. He can't recall ever hearing of a sire purposefully toying with a newly-changed vampire's requirements to sustain themselves before, but he must remind himself that Mele is not Bella's sire and that Bella is not the average vampire. She's special. Her heart still beats.
Still -
"She's experimenting on you," he accuses, stroking the dip of her waist with tender concern.
"Yes, she is," Bella agrees, covering her mouth as her jaw cracks in a yawn. "But it makes sense - I have to understand my limitations."
"I've heard that phrase too often over these last two weeks," he grumbles.
"You're so protective," she teases, kissing the hinge of his jaw.
Just that single touch is enough to create heat in his lower stomach and Edward smiles down at her, topaz eyes smoldering. "Only natural, love, to desire to protect my heart."
Bella stretches, tangling her fingers into his hair and kissing him with a full-body shiver. Her lips bloom open beneath his, breasts pressed heavily against his chest as she shifts, moving over him until she is straddling his hips, legs spread over his lap and knees hoisting her over his groin. Her scent ripens in the air, betraying her lust, and he is lost to her - all Edward can do is encourage the tiny circling grind Bella performs, cupping her lower hips to make her motions more firm, a low growl building in his chest.
"I have something to tell you," she murmurs between kisses.
He hums against her skin, trailing his lips down the tender line of her throat, nipping at her skin and watching with heavy eyes as pink rushes to the surface -
Bella scoots backward on his lap, flushing when her full weight rests upon his hardened cock trapped in his jeans - an exquisite torture made all the more alluring for the way her breasts heave within the confines of her shirt, nipples erect from being so close to him. She's flushed and warm and he knows that she's wet. His mouth parts in desire that he doesn't even bother to hide and just as he is about to draw her close again - because for some reason she had pulled away - Bella's hands frame his jaw, the tips of her fingers pressed against his temples -
Their minds connect fully and her heart thuds as she opens in the most intimate way for him -
Bella pushes her affection, her lust, her love for him from her mind and into his. Edward drowns in the way his chest feels fit to burst and inhales sharply -
"You are my life now," she declares solemnly.
In the span of a second, Edward is overtaken by his instincts -
He twists them until she is beneath the breadth of his body, his lips crashing against hers with the full force of his love - a returned gesture that is punctuated by the acute ache below his hips as his beautiful, amazing mate arches beneath him. He presses himself against her, a facsimile of what he really wants to do, which is have her until she is strung out and trembling and flushed that delicate shade of carnation pink all over -
Until he can remember only her taste and nothing else.
Edward thrusts against her once, twice for good measure - and then clarity seeps back into his mind and it is damning because they are both virgins and the house is full and he's trying this on a couch of all places - and it isn't right -
He pulls back a fraction, tilting his hips away from the enticing apex of her thighs with a muted groan of frustration. Self-loathing, honestly. He shouldn't be so caught up in - in - in human constraints, but he'd been raised religious and God may hate him, but Edward wasn't about to do anything to curry disfavor -
I'm not going to ask you for something that you cannot give, Bella says directly to his mind, her dainty hands curled around the name of his neck. Grounding him as she shifts beneath his weight, breaking the connection of their minds as she slips her palms over his clothes shoulders.
She still smells of want, but she does not push him.
What had he done to deserve this angel?
Surely God has forgiven him his sins if he is able to have Bella?
Edward can only murmur her name - a prayer he speaks against her cheekbone and a plea for forgiveness all at once.
(This is a test of a different sort of patience.)
A/N: Part Three of Auntie Kim's outtake requests - thoughts with your family, Auntie!
As always, be brutally honest. I can take it.
~cupcakeriot