The characters belong to SM, the plot belongs to me. Grievances will be taken to heart, and obsessed over.

There will be a bit of T-rated lemony sour-somethings in this chapter, be warned. If you want to skip it, don't read between the Xs.

I knew I'd have time to fix her tea while she pondered over her choice, and possibly began to read her book selection. That was exactly as I found her after the water was heated and the tea was steeped. Engrossed in her first few pages, she didn't note my entrance to the library. I stood and watched, endeared to her at finding that my prediction was correct. Her posture, the way she cradled the book on her forearm, biting her lower lip. The way her beautiful eyes moved as she took in the author's imagery gave me pause as well. This delicate, complicated creature had entered my life and gifted me with a fullness I could never have known the depths of. Her essence had sunk in slowly and settled into the darkest fissures and apertures of my soul, filling them in and changing me wholly. The man I used to be would not recognize me now. Her beauty encompassed every cell, and every sum and substance of her. It almost hurt to break the moment by asking her, "Have you made a selection?"

Long used to my silent approach, she didn't startle when I spoke, but instead took a moment to finish the line she was reading, or so I assumed. "Lighted Windows." She gestured to the book and walked toward where I stood, unaware of my deep appreciation for her.

"Emilie Loring," I nodded, "that one wasn't ghost written. Much of her work was left unfinished, but that one is one of her finished works."

"Interesting, remind me to ask you about her when my head isn't full of the adventures of Janice Trent." She smiled.

We walked up the stairs together and she settled on the sofa. I set her tea on the side table, and placed my head in her lap after retrieving a book from my personal collection near the fireplace. The only sounds in our room were the clink of her teacup as she sipped, the turning of our pages and her beautiful heartbeat, of course. After an hour her heart began to slow, and her grip on the book began to lax. I set mine aside to lift her into my arms. I was rewarded with a kiss to my neck in thanks before placing her on the bed. She was asleep less than 2 minutes after curling herself around me, while I wrapped her in an afghan.

I lightly pulled my fingertips through her hair as I pondered my luck, and the sun continued its tour of the sky. No sooner did I consider suggesting Alice replace my soon to be ruined curtains with blackout drapes, that she got a vision of Charlie.

His disbelief in the hearing of his daughter's truck was expected. He'd spent quite some time on the phone with the deputy tasked with tracing her license plate, and calling Forks. He was assured that the required legwork would be carried out to see if she'd survived and been seen, but given the nature of the crash, they informed him that there wasn't much hope of finding her, let alone DNA. What Bella hadn't been told, was her body would have been pulverized before burning. Her death would have been swift, albeit gruesome.

Charlie's plans began to settle after he hung up. Alice decided to place a call to him to inquire of any news, and also to snap him out of his stupor. She acted the part of worried and then frantic friend, after explaining that she had still not arrived. Delivering bad news was something Charlie was practiced in as Chief, and he soon fell into that role by beginning his investigation with Alice, questioning her contact with Bella, and the timeline of events prior to her leaving Forks. Of course, she was able to perfectly steer him into our version of truth, and orchestrate his choosing of the path he needed to take to achieve closure in the loss of his daughter. When she hung up with him, Jasper was there to comfort her. Alice cared for Charlie, and his pain distressed her greatly.

Bella snuggled deeper into my side and muttered, "Thank you."

"You're welcome." I replied.

"Wasn't talking to you," she whispered rudely in sleep. I couldn't help the giggle, and I felt sorry that my quaking caused her to take a deep breath in. I'd awoken her.

"I apologize for waking you. You were being unintentionally funny."

"Apparently I've made a habit of that while you're around." She said as she stretched against me.

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The movement itself made me wish she would repeat it. I sunk down closer to her so that my lips were level to hers, and hummed at the feel of her. I placed my hand at the small of her back and pressed her closer. Her hand found the back of my neck and her nose rubbed against mine before our lips gently touched. Her heart, so close to mine, beat for both of us. The sensation of her lips, her heart, her body pressed against mine caused a sharp intake of breath, my inhale matching her exhale only spurred me on. Tracing her spine to her shoulder blades, and back down her back, feeling the way her soft curves fit against me, but I didn't stop there. The swell of her backside was too tempting, which led me to the back of her thigh. She gasped when I pulled her leg over my hip before pressing her to me and rolling onto my back, so that I could use both hands to hold her to me. Her moan and the rock of her hips as she positioned herself above me nearly caused me to lose myself, yet I'd never felt in more control. My hands ran under her shirt and back down to her hips, before pressing them down onto me again. The feeling of friction was delicious. Her breath was coming in gasps and when she broke our kiss to breathe. She pulled her shirt over her head before claiming my lips again.

At first I froze. For a full 2 seconds, before the feel of her skin against my hands registered, and then I couldn't get enough. I had to taste her. I sat up to gain access below her jaw, her pulse, down her neck, her chest, the swell of her breast at the edge of her bra. I ran my tongue the length of her sternum and kissed my way back up, placing plump kisses along her other breast and across the underside of her clavicle. My hands pressed into her back, holding her heart so close to my lips as she panted above me, scraping her nails across the back of my neck and pressing herself against me in several ways. Her scent enveloping me. One tiny scrape of my teeth and I could claim her…

With that thought I paused, and held her still, exhaling my cool breath against her skin and raising goosebumps.

"Bella," I spoke through my own panting, willing her to understand the need to calm down. I would never harm her, but the instinct to bite her was a part of me. That I was able to stop was a blessing. That I didn't crave her blood in those moments was progress, I suppose. We locked eyes until I felt more incontrol. Soon enough I felt she was safe from the need to bite her, and placed my ear to her heart.

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"Hmm," she hummed, cradling my head to her, the sound of her heartbeat was such a comfort to me. I listened as it slowly found its normal rhythm, the shadows in our room becoming longer as twilight neared. "I was thanking Henry," she said after her breathing had somewhat calmed.

Curious, I inquired, "Who is that?"

"He's the reason Charlie won't find evidence of me on any highway from wherever I was yesterday morning, or witnesses of my, um, end."

"Oh," I thought for a moment, "perhaps you unknowingly used your ability to cross paths with someone who could lead you in the right direction."

She went on to explain the small town shop where she stopped for coffee, and the elder gentleman who helped her find her way, and somehow knew she was racing to meet me. When I wondered how she found herself in a more remote area, she explained. "The highway was too congested to drive, so I took the next exit I could find and checked my GPS. There was a road that ran almost parallel so I followed it until I hit a town, and slept in my truck until the coffee shop opened."

"Were you afraid?"

"No, I felt like it would be ok," she furrowed her brow, then shrugged. "It never crossed my mind that it wouldn't work out. All I kept thinking was that I had to keep going to get to you," she looked at me then, "are you mad?"

"I'm curious to know how your instincts will translate into an ability when you change." I said truthfully.

"It doesn't upset you that I did all of these dangerous things on my own? All the risks I took?"

I thought for a moment, and answered honestly, "I realized something in the woods before I destroyed Victoria. I realized that you were right when you said I'd never hurt you. I always thought you'd said it as a reassurance, to me or to yourself. I think maybe you said it because you felt it."

"I did feel it. I knew it was true. I can't explain it, but it feels like a fact."

"When I first began to get to know you, I thought there was something in your essential makeup that prevented you from feeling fear the way most humans do when they encounter us. But looking back, I now realize that all of your other assumptions were spot on. If you say you feel safe, given your ability, I feel I have to trust you. In hindsight, I wonder if my worries about your safety at my hands have been unfounded." It was unsettling to know that I may have been stifling her all this time with what I thought was logical reasoning.

"Huh." She grazed her fingernails through my hair and against my scalp, pulling me from my thoughts. "Maybe now you'll actually listen to me." That response earned her more than one chuckle, though I'm not sure she heard them. I looked up to her smug little grin.

No, the man I was back then would not recognize the man I am today.

In my story, they have a healthy relationship. He's not forcing her to do what's best, and she's not resistant when he tries to do nice things. They seem so be settling into life pretty effortlessly. I wonder how long it will take before it starts to get weird?