A/N: I lifted most of the references to Bella's likes directly from Midnight Sun, but I did throw in a couple different ones for some spice lol.

My past has tasted bitter

For years now

So I wield an iron fist

Grace is just weakness

Or so I've been told

I've been cold, I've been merciless

But the blood on my hands scares me to death

Maybe I'm waking up today

I'll be good, I'll be good

And I'll love the world, like I should

"I'll Be Good" – Jaymes Young

Bella had been right; carnivores were better than herbivores but only marginally. Unfortunately, Peter hadn't been exaggerating when he said this vegetarian shit was fuckin' foul. I barely resisted the urge to wipe the lingering taste off animal blood off my damn tongue after I buried my kills in shallow graves.

Still, it got the job done. The burn in my throat was at a simmer rather than an inferno; I was fed and hadn't had pieces of me go with my kill. For a moment, I allowed myself to savor that rare feeling of accomplishment before I made myself get back to business.

No sense in dwelling on a victory – it would only count if I could stick to it.

I'd no sooner made the conscious choice to go hunting for other vampires stupid enough to cross into my territory when one fell almost right damn near in my lap.

Not the red headed female I'd been hoping for - a male, with inky dreadlocks that fell carelessly over his shoulders and pale skin that had an olive cast to it. His red eyes were as bright as rubies, evidence that he'd hunted recently, but seeing how I hadn't caught his scent when I was carving out a territory, it hadn't been nearby.

"What do we have here?" the male said, his smooth accented tenor lilting the edges of his vowels and dragging out others. "Another one of dear Bella's admirers? My, la fille draws them in like bees to honey." His lips curved into an impish smile. "Or perhaps like vampires to blood? Hers was particularly sweet if I recall."

If he was who I thought he might be, I wasn't feeling particularly inclined to let him be recalling anything where my girl and her blood were involved.

"You're the one called Laurent."

His smile widened to something that might've been charming if I hadn't seen him tense. "My reputation proceeds me! But I'm afraid you've got me at a disadvantage. Who are you, monsieur? No, no! Let me guess!"

Laurent cocked his head as he studied me carefully but made no other attempt to move. I wondered if it was instinct that kept him in place, or something else. Most of my scars were hidden under my long-sleeved shirt, but there were a handful that peeked around the neckline. If the way his eyes lingered on them were any indication, I'd wager he had something of an idea of just who he was dealing with. As well as how much shit he was about to be in if he didn't proceed very fuckin' carefully.

"I have to say, Major, you are not what I had been led to believe you to be," he said once he'd finished sizing me up.

"And what's that?"

He laughed but the sound was hollow. I didn't need my gift to tell me what he was feeling was fear. I could see it in the sudden, tense lines of his body and the careful, deliberate way he refused to take his eyes of me. It broadcasted from him so thickly I could damn near taste it; all at once the rancid taste of animal blood was replaced with something like war and the bitter tang of foreign venom.

"The stories, surely, you've heard them? They call you the God of War, Satanás del Sur, el Diablo, Maria's Demon! A cautionary tale fairly dripping with blood and horror." He shuddered but whether it was from real fear or theatrical effect, I didn't know and frankly didn't care. "You carved a bloody swathe into vampire legend and here you are feeding on animals." Alright, that one was genuine, and I couldn't really blame him for it, the shit really was nasty.

I rocked forward onto the balls of my feet and didn't bother hiding the cocky grin that spread across my face as he took an involuntary step back.

Vampires tended to be good at three – four if you asked Char – things: feedin', fuckin', and fightin'. Killing and hunting humans – I wasn't about that life anymore. If I played my cards right, hopefully I'd get plenty of the second once I got my pretty mate squared away. As for the latter? Well. I may've put Maria's war and petty squabbles over territory behind me, but far be it from me to turn my nose up at a good brawl.

Something told me Laurent wasn't quite as keen on the idea as I was when I cracked my neck and launched myself at him faster than he could blink.

Two minutes before nine o'clock found me perched on the tree branch outside of Bella's window. As promised, she'd left it unlocked, and I slipped into her empty bedroom as silent as death. I was a little disappointed to see she wasn't waiting for me, but that feeling quickly dried up when I picked up on her buzzing impatience somewhere below me.

I cocked my head to listen closer. There was slightly muffled sound of a television in addition to two heartbeats somewhere below me. The fluttery one belonging to my Bella, and the other presumably her father. I inhaled deeply, cataloging the different scents of the house, and took care to memorize his.

Seeing how I had nothing better to do, I decided to occupy myself by learning a little more about my mate while I waited for her to come join me.

To my amusement, I found her room was markedly cleaner than it'd been this morning; bed made, laundry done, and most of the everyday clutter had been put away. There was a new scent that hadn't been there earlier, and I pinpointed it coming from the candle on her (now much less crowded) bedside table. Its cinnamon and vanilla perfume hung thick in the air even after having been blown out. I found it blended well with Bella's natural scent.

I wandered over to the bookshelf closest to me. She had a small collection of DVDs stacked on top. My eyes landed first on a copy of Firefly, before drifting over to Monty Python and the Holy Grail wedged between Vertigo and Pride and Prejudice – the six-hour one, which didn't surprise me in the least. I was pretty sure Char had a copy of it too, it looked familiar. There was also a copy of Mean Girls and for a second, I worried about getting her in the same room as Peter. He loved that movie, much to mine and his mate's chagrin.

I drifted over to her CD player and found Linkin Park's Hybrid Theory, but when I flipped through her CD case, I learned that her music collection was mostly classical. There was some Neil Diamon, Elvis Presley, John Denver, Johnny Cash, the Phantom of the Opera soundtrack, and one Travis Tritt CD. I also saw quite a few burned CDs – custom playlists, going off the titles she'd written on the discs in sharpie. She had something for every mood and occasion; I was very curious to learn what precisely she considered to be "music to kick ass too!"

It looked like she'd tried tidying' the stacks of books around and on her bookcase, but there really was no hope for it, short of getting another one. That she had so many was a clear indication she liked to read. So did I; I rarely stayed anywhere for long these days, but wherever I went, I almost always found a library or bookstore to lose hours in.

My investigation into her literary tastes revealed she had a fondness for the classics, which wasn't surprising. Some of the authors I recognized: Orson Scott Card, Robin McKinley, David Eddings, Agatha Christie, L. M. Montgomery, Shakespeare, Anne McCaffrey, Douglas Adams, and Jane Austen to name a few.

There was more fantasy than I'd expected, as well as quite a few mysteries. I found her favorite book easily simply because of how heavy her scent was on it. The spine was so cracked I couldn't read the title. Gently, I pulled out the worn paperback and raised an eyebrow at the battered cover. Wuthering Heights was certainly a choice. To each their own. I slid it back where I'd found it.

There was a paperback on top of her desk, still open but face down like she'd laid it down while in the middle of reading it. Tooth and Claw by Jo Walton – I hadn't heard of that one before and mentally filed it away to get a copy later.

The heavy tread of unfamiliar footsteps coming up the stairs had me ducking into the corner, holding my breath as I tracked their movements. Charlie, I determined from his scent. When his bedroom door shut, I quickly blanketed him in layers of peace and relaxation, ensuring he'd sleep deeply for several hours.

I grinned as I heard Bella scurry up the stairs soon after. I bit the inside of my cheek to stifle a laugh when I heard her trip, this time on the top step. Unlike this morning, she didn't recover at the last moment, and landed with a hard thump and barely stifled swearing.

I had just settled on the edge of her bed when she slowly opened her door, peering around it until her eyes landed on her. The sudden sunburst of her happiness left me buoyant, and I basked in it.

"Sorry I'm late," she murmured, as she shut the door behind her with a quick snick of the lock. "Charlie wanted to talk and wouldn't go to bed."

"No worries, darlin'. Everythin' alright?" There was a slight spike of nervousness as she fidgeted by the door. I patted the spot beside me, inviting her to sit down. "Come tell me what's eatin' you this time."

She hesitated for a moment, but she gathered her courage and took a seat, putting a little more space between us than we'd had this morning. I wasn't too pleased with that, but if the extra buffer made her comfortable, then I'd respect it.

It was hard for me to remember that she was still nursing a broken heart. I was so caught up in the discovery that she was my mate, that I hadn't been respecting her boundaries – hell, I hadn't even asked what they were. If I'd seen anyone else acting the way I had been, I'd've kicked their asses into next week, and here I was being that asshole.

Bella didn't need coddling - I wasn't going to patronize or infantilize her, but a little extra kindness and gentleness didn't hurt. I needed to be supportive, not selfish right now. There would be time for us later; her recovery took priority.

"Would you believe me if I said I didn't know?"

"Yes," I said patiently, and her wide startled eyes flashed to mine. "Your emotional climate's a mess. I'd be surprised if you knew everythin' you were feelin'."

"But you know."

I tapped my temple with my finger. "Empath," I reminded her, then leaned back on my hands in a mirror of the pose I'd assumed earlier that day. "But knowin' what is only half the battle. I don't know the why behind 'em."

She moved to lean up against her headboard, pulling her legs up to hug them to her chest and rest her chin on her knees. "I don't know where to start," my Bella admitted. She blinked hard and I saw droplets clinging to her lashes. "There's just so much, and it's constant. I can't ever turn it off and I'm not equipped to deal with any of it!"

I sat up and reached out to hover a hand in the space between us. "Bella, darlin', I'll help ya. We'll figure it out, together, you'n me. Can I calm you down a little bit first?"

She sniffed and dashed an arm across her eyes and nodded.

I laid my hand on top of her head and projected a gentle blend of calm and peace. Nothing like what I'd dosed her father with but just enough to take the edge off.

"Thank you," she sighed as the tension bled out of her. "I'm sorry, I'm a disaster, aren't I?"

"No. You're human," I corrected. And because I couldn't bear to see her look so sad, "Believe it or not, vampires are worse."

Curiosity warred with disbelief in her beautiful brown eyes. "They are not."

"We are." I laid fully on my back and laced my fingers behind my head. "You've never seen a bigger crybaby drama queen than a vampire with a century under his belt."

"Edward," While I was irritated by the sound of his name, I was damn proud she didn't trip over it this time, "told me newborn vampires were pretty bad."

"They can be," I said mildly, staring at her ceiling where she'd pasted some of those cheap glow-in-the-dark stars. "If you don't have experience with blood-thirsty adult-sized toddlers who go through more mood swings in an hour than you do clothes in a week."

She nudged my side with her toe as she replied, "I'm going to assume that's your roundabout way of telling me that you do?"

"Get the girl a cookie."

She dug her toe into my side but instead of the reaction she was looking for, all she got was bruised toes. "I can't take you seriously when you're down there," she said, and I allowed myself to be rearranged to her liking, settling beside her while leaning against her headboard.

"Better?"

"Almost." She grabbed my arm and draped it over her shoulders before nestling into my side and fuck me if she didn't fit the curve of my body perfectly. "Now I'm better."

"You've gotta be freezin', darlin'."

She shook her head. "So what was it you said about helping me figure out what's going on with me – what'd you call it?"

"Emotional climate."

"Yeah, that." She sighed heavily through her nose. "Okay. I'm ready."

A/N: Next time: therapy session with Captain Cuddly – I mean, totally still a badass Major Whitlock.

Also, have y'all seen that one tiktok of the army guy in a black cowboy hat saying "mornin' darlin'"? swoon.