Chapter Twelve

Edward

Over the next few days, Carlisle and I continued to test my willpower against the call of Bella's blood. Even in its weaker state, it still called to me, but I continued to resist. The burn lessened some each time, but never eased completely. I forced myself to be near it for over twenty-four hours straight and never moved to taste it.

Carlisle and Esme were immensely proud, but I was still unsure how I'd resist it as it flowed through her veins—which of course made Carlisle want to push me more.

That was how the three of us wound up outside of Charlie Swan's house at two o'clock in the morning, hiding in the woods.

The house was silent, spare the two inhabitants steady breathing and heartbeats.

Let's go in, Esme thought.

"Are you mad?" I hissed. "The smell is potent all the way out here! Not to mention that's quite obviously breaking and entering."

"We wouldn't break anything," she teased. "Besides, Carlisle and I have both already been inside stealing clothing for you. This would just be . . . entering."

"It's not a bad idea," Carlisle said. "I made sure to unlatch her window and I doubt she's noticed to lock it. Just for a few minutes, Edward. We'll be right beside you."

"So, I should kill her in her own bed instead of in public, basically," I huffed as they both stood from their crouched positions. "I didn't say okay!"

"Don't make me pull you by your ear. This family breaks into homes together." Esme smirked.

"And I thought we were strange before," I mumbled, reluctantly joining them. I had no doubt she'd pull my ear and even being a vampire, she could make it hurt.

We each scaled the house effortlessly, using a perfectly placed tree beside the window. They went first and I hesitated before Esme's thoughts of dragging me up the tree filled my find.

Carlisle quietly opened the window, thinking happily that it was still unlocked. This felt entirely wrong and my throat burned horribly, but I went inside with them, finding myself encased in the intoxicating scent. My eyes glanced around the small, dark room before landing on the bed.

Suddenly, the small form was all I could see—everything faded away and I could hear nothing but her breaths and heartbeat.

She was . . . beautiful.

No, that wasn't enough to describe her.

She was magnificent and lovely and perfect in every way in my eyes. Her chestnut hair cascaded over her pillow as she lay on her side, looking ever so peaceful as she slept. Her skin was pale—like beautiful porcelain—and cheeks glowed with a touch of rosy red. Nothing could adequately describe how gorgeous she was.

Edward!

The screaming voice in my head brought me out of the trance, and I realized I'd fallen to the floor on my knees. I couldn't tear my eyes away from her as Carlisle and Esme crouched beside me, worried thoughts filling their minds.

"We should go," Carlisle said.

"No," I quickly spoke, shaking my head. "She's . . . she's . . . bewitching—beautiful, gorgeous, perfect. Do you see it?"

I glanced at Carlisle long enough to see his perplexed expression. "What do you mean, Edward?"

"Oh my," Esme gasped. "Is that . . . normal? For singers?"

"No," Carlisle said. "Son, what are you feeling?"

My stone cold heart felt warm, and I laid my hand over my chest. "I don't . . . know. It's like, nothing else matters. What's happening to me?"

Suddenly, Bella's beautiful heartbeat sped up as she twisted in her bed.

"We have to go," Carlisle said, pulling me to my feet and dragging me out of the window. We hit the ground with a soft thud and he kept pulling me until we were back in the shadows of the forest. It was as if something else had ahold of me, making me want to go back to her.

And then we heard her scream.

"Did she see us, Edward?" Esme asked as panic filled her voice. "What was she thinking?"

"Son, stop," Carlisle said as I struggled against him, needing to go back to her.

"Something's wrong with her!"

"Son, listen!" he hissed. "What is she thinking? Did she see us?"

His mind was already calculating a plan to leave town immediately, and that was when I realized of all the voices in my head, none of them could have been hers.

I hadn't heard her at all.

I stopped struggling in an instant, trying to focus on the minds around me—most were silly dreams, nothing of consequence. The neighborhood was peacefully asleep, spare Mr. Jacobs three houses down who was thinking of the show he was watching and then Charlie—whose mind was panicked as he ran to Bella's room.

"I can't hear her," I said. "God, why can't I hear her?"

They shared a worried look as we heard Charlie's voice. "Bella, Bells, it's okay. Wake up. You're okay."

"Nightmare," Carlisle sighed in relief.

"I'm here," Charlie said. "You're okay."

"S-sorry," a soft voice gasped.

The sound of her voice about brought me to my knees again, and my heart felt like it was shattering from how broken and scared she sounded. I just wanted to be near her—to comfort her and ease her pain.

"Why am I feeling this?" I asked, looking between my mother and father. "I should want to kill her, not protect her!"

"We need to go back to the house," Carlisle said. It cannot be possible.

"What can't be possible?" I asked.

His eyes met mine as he sighed. "I think she's your mate."


I don't own Twilight.