14
THE BEGINNING OF TWO SOULS BINDING TOGETHER
EDWARD DIDN'T SAY ANYTHING AFTER HIS MOTHER LEFT, nor did he move. No, instead, he simply sat there, on the chaise longue with Bella on his lap, his arms about her, holding her close, stroking over her own arms and shoulders, up and down her ribs, his cold fingertips leaving a trail of fire on her skin through her clothes, probably contemplating everything his beloved mother, Elizabeth', had just revealed.
After a couple of minutes, Edward let out a sigh, his cold, sweet, addictive, intoxicating breath washing over her skin. She tilted her head slightly to look at him, unable to believe that his beautiful irises were the closest color to what they had been when he'd been human, saw a mixture of love, pride, longing, desire, and regret in his beautiful, perfect face. Not liking this one bit, Bella shifted on his lap, readjusted herself so she was completely straddling him, her legs on either side of his hips, her body pressed flesh against his. Gently, with determination, she took his face in her hands, drew him down to her, pressed her forehead to his. "What is the matter, Edward, my beautiful fiance and future husband, what is it that puts such an expression on your beautiful face?"
Edward pulled away slightly, taking Bella's face between his hands, pressed his lips to her forehead, left them there as he spoke. "It is nothing, my sweet, only love, only that, by allowing me to drink of your blood, my Bella, my beautiful bride-to-be and future wife, you are doing so much for me, not only are you soothing my thirst and the burn in my throat, but also, your blood—" Edward broke off, shuddered, took her lips in a kiss that made her burn, feel as if she was on fire, despite the cold temperature of his skin, the fact that he was a vampire, it was so deep, so sweet, so open and filled with love, yet tinged with restraint. "It brought me so much pleasure, not the kind of pleasure a predator feels when capturing and killing its prey, but the kind of pleasure I suspect the two of us will feel when we are together in bed as only a husband and wife should be. I wish I could do that for you after I turn you, my Bella, my one and only true love, but, alas, I have no blood to offer you, and for that, I am truly sorry and sorrowful, Darling."
Bella reached up a hand, placed it against his cold, hard, but soft, velvet cheek, trying to comfort him, went as if to speak, but Edward held up a finger, pressed it against her lips—even as he scrunched up his nose in what Bella thought was discussed and discomfort. "Mountain lion blood may be my favorite kind of animal blood, but it satisfies me fully not, a burn permanently at the back of my throat, as I am always thirsty, and even when I hunt, the animal blood, it feels wrong going down my throat, as if something vital is missing, though I know not what it is, as I think not that it is simply because it is not human blood. Though I am use to all of these things by now, after nearly a century of being a vampire, it pains me greatly that now you will have to go through it, too, and I wish I could prevent it, even as my selfish nature, my love for you, makes me want to turn you into a vampire so I can keep you by my side forever."
As Edward spoke, tears, happy tears, tears of love and joy, cascaded down Bella's face, the salt of them staining her cheeks, her lips, and, soon as he was finished speaking, saying what he had to say, Bella lunged herself at him, kissed him, soft, sweet, and deep, deep as he would allow her to, her fingers threading themselves in his hair, tugging at the soft, heavy, cool silk of it, her warm tongue darting out to take in the sweet, addictive taste of his skin. He kissed her back for a moment, then, all too soon, he was grasping her shoulders gently, pushing her back slightly. "Stupid, perfect self-control." Bella's words were naught but a whisper, spoken under her breath as she buried her face against his chest, her ear ending up over his heart that hadn't beat in a long time.
Soft, quiet, husky, musical, male laughter. "Oh, Bella, Love, if you only knew how hard it is for me to stop kissing you at any given moment, especially now, with your sweet, sweet blood in my system, desire and love coursing in my veins."
Bella lifted her head from his chest, playfully glared at him, then became serious, again, taking his face in her hands, thumbs stroking soothingly, lovingly, over his cheekbones. "Oh, Edward, my beautiful fiance and future husband, you need not feel this, especially as I think you will be able to do what you want when you turn me into a vampire, feed me your blood, though I know not how it will work, how there will be blood running in your veins, as you are a vampire and your heart beats not. Think about it, my love, because of our love, a love that is beautiful and pure, you are able to do so many things which a normal vampire is not, controlling your urges, your strength, when you are with me, kissing me, eating small quantities of human food without it tasting like dirt to you—I think this will work the same. And your beloved mother, Elizabeth, did say the color of my eyes would remain the same even after you change me. I cannot be certain, but I have a feeling this has to do with the fact that I will be drinking blood from you rather than drinking human or animal blood, just as you drank from me a couple of minutes ago."
Edward looked at her for a moment, his face full of astonishment, realization, pride, and love, then laughed, the sound so open and honest, it twined around her heart, made her love him even more. "I am the one who can read minds in this relationship, who should have been able to deduce this, yet it was you, my beautiful, strong, smart bride-to-be and future wife, who deduced it, not me." He shook his head, kissed her, soft, quick, passionate, and chased. "What am I going to do with you, Love?"
He dipped his head, kissed her again before she could answer, and when he pulled away, moved on to her neck and throat, and Bella had caught her breath, as his kiss had left her breathless, she said, "Love me, marry me, be with me forever, raise our future child, be it Edward or Nessy Elizabeth, with me."
"Hmm." It was a deep, contented hum coming from the back of his throat, his cold, familiar lips moving against her skin, over her neck, down the column of her throat, paying special attention to her pulse, causing her to shiver, press herself closer to him. "Yes, that is, indeed, exactly what I am going to do."
Bella hitched in a breath, her heartbeat quickening as his lips continued to move slowly, lovingly, reverently, over her skin. She tried to gather her thoughts, focus, as she had to tell him something, something important. "Oh, and Edward, you need not fret so, my love, as even now, as a human, you can bring me so much pleasure, the kind of pleasure you felt when drinking my blood, using your venom."
His lips halted their exploration of her skin, and, when he looked up, his eyes meeting hers, they were full of love and relief. "Really?"
A nod, her smile matching his own, heat pooling low in her body, to the hot, aching place between her thighs, as she remembered the pleasure Edward's venom had brought her.
He pressed a soft, sweet kiss to her throat, over her pulse. "Perhaps I need not leave you now at all, even to go hunting, as I can drink from you, get what I need from your sweet blood." Edward stroked her hair, thoughtful now, in full flow. "Of course, we will need to practice, find out a way that I can feed from you, give you some of my venom in turn, without me putting it directly into your bloodstream, as I wish not to turn you, not until after you give birth to our future child, be it Edward or Nessy Elizabeth." His eyes danced, filled with excitement and curiosity. "I wonder what Carlisle will make of this, all of the changes going on in our lives, particularly the one of my diet. Oh, well, I need not wait too long to find out, as we will probably find out what he thinks tomorrow, at least partially."
Edward shook his head, his lips kicking up into the half smile she loved, that made her heart beat faster. "That is enough talk of everyone else for now, come, accompany me while I prepare the maise en place for your dinner, then, after you have eaten and taken care of your human needs, I will carry you to our bedroom, lay you out on our bed, where we will figure out how to proceed next."
He ended up making a small, but very delicious, perfectly seasoned salad sprinkled with moist pieces of filet mignon, along with some more Eton Mess for dessert. Bella ate quickly, but slowly, eager to get their evening started, but also knowing Edward wouldn't want her getting a stomach ache later. When she was done, he washed the dishes, fast like only he could, then took out a small knife from a kitchen drawer, turning to her as he did so. "I will use this to cut open your palm just enough so I can drink some of your blood, as I do not yet know how to bite you, give you some of my venom, with out getting it directly into your bloodstream. Of course, we will not need antiseptic or bandages after we have finished, as my venom can, very evidently, for some, as yet unknown reason, heal you."
Bella couldn't help but look crestfallen, she was really hoping that Edward would drink from her even as he kissed her, the pleasure doubling.
Her body language and facial expression must have given him a very good idea of what she was thinking, because he came over to her, took her hands in his, wrapped them about his neck, even as his own arms, too, came about her, gathering her to him. "Fret not, my Bella, as this, using a knife so I can get access to your blood, it is only temporary, until I can figure out how to bite you, give you some of my venom, without getting it directly into your bloodstream, which I will do long before our wedding night and honeymoon." He lifted a hand, caressed her cheek, his knuckles cool and soothing against her skin. "Fear not that we will have to use a knife during our wedding night and honeymoon, as that will not come to pass." A pause, his eyes lighting up, brimming with excitement. "Perhaps it is best that I take you to the washroom so you can change, brush your teeth and hair, if you want, so you need not leave our bed later."
She nodded, thankful that Edward had a vampiric mind, could rapidly think of many different scenarios, tilted her head up so she could kiss him, soft and honey-sweet. "Yes, that is a very good idea."
Smiling, he lifted her up, off of the chair she'd been sitting on, into his arms, like how a groom carried his new bride, moved fast like only he could, and they were in the bathroom in a half a minute, Edward having momentarily stopped at their bedroom to grab a tube of tungsten while Bella grabbed her pajamas and toiletry bag, Bella sitting on the toilet, Edward hunkering down in front of her, her hands in his.
Slowly, even slower than a human, he stretched up on his knees, Bella bending her head, their lips meeting, soft as a whisper at first, then harder, one arm coming about her, bringing her down so she straddled his thighs, all while being careful not to hurt her broken leg—the other holding the tube of tungsten, squeezing it hard. She gasped, her mouth opening up beneath his, and Edward, he took full advantage, stroked his tongue, cold as ice and soaked with venom, into her mouth, something which he'd never done before for fear of hurting her, making her moan and writhe in his arms, both from the sensation and the pleasure his venom was bringing her. She turned her head, breaking the kiss, hating to do so, but she needed to breathe, her stupid human needs getting in the way once more. Edward's cold, hard, but soft lips, however, they did not leave her skin, simply moved on to her neck and throat, kissing along the warm skin there, paying special attention to her pulse and artery. "You seem . . . happier . . . much more relaxed?"
At her implied question, Edward's lips left her skin, and he looked at her, his beautiful eyes, eyes no human, nor any other vampire would ever possess, serious and beguiling at the same time. He lifted a hand, stroked a single finger down her cheek, leaving a trail of fire in its wake. "I am." Another caress of her cheek with his finger. "Not only because I need not leave you anymore, even to hunt, but also because I know I will not hurt you, even with your sweet, sweet blood in my system, when I feed from you, nor when I turn you, will actually bring you pleasure with my venom." He rose off the floor with her in his arms, sat her back down on the toilet, moved fast like only he could, was back less than a second later, helping her stand, her crutches on either side of her to support her. He pressed his lips to her forehead, left them there for several moments. "Call for me when you have finished so I can take you to one of our many, many future marriage beds."
Then he was gone, as if he was naught but a ghost, had likely gone to their bedroom to prepare it for the romantic night ahead. Bella decided to take a shower, knowing how much more appealing her scent was to Edward when her skin and hair were wet, how much he liked it. Usually, she wouldn't do that on purpose, make her scent more appealing, not wanting to make the burn in his throat even worse, but as things were changing very rapidly and he would be drinking of her blood shortly, their love and his self-control preventing him from killing her while he did so, she wanted to make things as pleasant and pleasurable as she could for the two of them. When she was done with that, she put on her pajamas, which weren't quite lingerie, but not like her usual ones, either, a little more alluring, because though tonight wasn't their wedding night, she had the feeling it would be just as special, pinned back her hair using dozens of tiny, delicate, beautiful, gold hair pins.
She took three deep breaths to prepare herself, then called, "Edward," her voice no louder than if he'd been standing right next to her.
Edward had just finished lighting candles all around the room, changing the sheets and bedding of their bed so they would feel like velvet against Bella's skin, when he heard her call for him, her heartbeat and breathing picking up speed as she pronounced his name.
He moved, fast like only he could, was leaning against the door frame of the washroom, his arms crossed over his chest, in less than a second, and, when he saw her, his breath caught, the sound of it audible even to Bella's ears.
Dressed In a dark, vibrant robe of cobalt blue silk that highlighted her every curve and dip, her hair pinned back with gold hair pins as it would have been if they'd met in his youth, she looked beautiful, like a goddess. Slowly, deliberately, a small smile playing about the full curve of his mouth, a smile that held all his love for her and desire to kiss and hold her close as only he could, he walked over to her, his arms coming about her, hoisting her up unto the sink, as if she was naught but a feather, all the while he made space for himself between her legs so he could stand in between. "You look lovely, my Bella, truly beautiful." His voice was low and private, of a groom to his bride-to-be. "Did you get this in Chicago, during our shopping trip, when you went to get intimate items?"
A blush colored Bella's cheeks, was Edward's answer, and he could taste her sweet, sweet blood in the air, but instead of bloodlust or thirst, it was love and pride that filled him. His Bella, she didn't usually like to wear this type of things, Alice always complaining about it, constantly telling him, both mentally and out loud, that Bella was beautiful, but she didn't know how to dress properly, have a fashion sense, always getting dressed in jeans, t-shirts, and hoodies, instead of blouses, skirts, frocks, and high heels—yet she chose to dress like this for him, when she knew his eyes would be the only ones to ever see her wearing this.
Alice was wrong, so wrong about his Bella, Edward thought, for all that she, along with the rest of his adoptive family, liked to type cast her as the second "know it all" in the family.
It wasn't that his Bella didn't have a fashion sense, that she was, as Alice put it "clumsy" when it came to getting dressed, or even that she was totally adversed to wearing something delicate, elegant, and feminine, she just didn't like to wear this type of things in public because she didn't want people gawking at her or questioning her. And, of course, his Bella, she knew him better than his whole entire adoptive family combined, Alice included, knew just what buttons to push, how to dress to appeal to Edward's male senses, make him mad with longing and need, want to claim her as his, be with her as only a husband should be with his wife—was a thousand times more beautiful than Rosalie in his eyes. Her style, it was a lot more subtle and elegant, less des vêtements tape-à-l'œil than Alice's, pushed all the right buttons to drive him mad, test his resolve to wait until their wedding night to claim her as his.
It was a very good thing indeed Bella hadn't dressed like how she'd been dressing lately to go to school, else, Edward was afraid he'd never let her go to class, would have wanted to run away with her to their meadow, spend all day kissing and holding her, and his Bella, knowing her, she wouldn't have stopped him, would actually have encouraged him. Still, now that they were going to be out of school, the educational system, for a while, at least a couple of years, that she was going to be his wife, bound to him in every single way possible, he would show her there was no need to fret over what other people thought about her, the way she dressed, so long as she felt comfortable and it was what she wanted.
Mentally shaking his head to clear it, aware that his Bella was waiting for him to speak again, he tilted her head to the side, exposing her throat to him, pressed a sweet kiss to her pulse. "I quite like this, my Bella, seeing you dressed like this, and this is not even for our wedding night or honeymoon." Another soft kiss pressed to her pulse, making her shiver, which, Edward assumed from the way she pressed herself closer to him, leaned into his body, was from pleasure rather than the cold temperature of his skin. "I cannot wait to see what you pull off then, my beautiful bride-to-be and future wife. Come now, I would take you to one of our future marriage beds so we might get our evening started and I may drink from your sweet blood once more."
Leaving her crutches against one wall of the washroom, for she didn't need them anymore, not when he was there, he lifted her into his arms again, like how a groom carried his new bride, cradled her close to his chest, his heart that hadn't beat in a long time, but, this time, rather than moving fast like only he could, he walked slowly, at leisure, in no hurry, wanting to take his time, to their bedroom, which was lit by candle and firelight, red rose petals, along with heliotropes petals, scattered along the floor, the coverlet of the bed, setting her down on the edge of that bed.
Not taking his eyes off hers, he shrugged off his shirt, slowly unbuttoning it, Bella setting a hand against his chest, over his heart. He took that hand, pressed a kiss to her knuckles, sat down beside her on the edge of the bed, began gently taking out the pins from her hair, setting them on the nightstand, running his fingers softly over her hair when he was done. "Hmm, such soft, beautiful hair you have, my Bella, the other half of my heart, my soul. And your scent," he brushed her yet wet hair away from her neck, exposing her throat, buried his face against her warm, wet skin, inhaled her scent, "it is so much more alluring than usual. Did you take a shower for me, leave your hair and parts of your body wet for me, knowing how much more I love your scent when your skin and hair are wet?"
A nod.
Edward laid them down, his body coming over hers, the gentlest of pressures. "Oh, my Bella, I thank you, love." He turned, grabbed the knife he brought from the kitchen, which he'd placed on the nightstand. Pausing before he cut her palm, he looked at her, stroked her face, her hair. "This will only hurt a moment, when I draw cold steel against your flesh, but I will make it go away soon, my love, use my venom."
Bella wrapped an arm about his neck, the contact of her warm skin against his cold one thrilling him as much as the first time, used her gentle, feminine hold to pull him down for a soft, honey-sweet, chased kiss. "I trust you, overprotective, overthinking, beautiful, future husband of mine."
With Bella's comfort and her reassurance, her fingers running soothingly, lovingly, over his hair, he gently drew the knife across the flesh of her palm, just enough to create a single, shallow gash, draw some blood, but not enough to hurt her. At the site and scent of her blood, venom welled in his mouth, weeped from his teeth, and he knew what to do, how to feed directly from Bella, bite her, without injecting his venom directly into her bloodstream. What he'd told Bella was true, it was only the venom found in a vampire's mouth that could turn a human, however, the venom must be administered directly into the human's bloodstream using either the vampires sharp teeth, or something puncturing, like a needle, thus ensuring a vast quantity of it entered the human's system via the veins, or and the beating heart. He would feed directly from her without the need of a knife tonight, bring her more pleasure than the two of them had imagined, but first he needed to take care of the blood he'd drawn with the knife, heal her wound.
Setting the knife aside, leaving it on the nightstand, on top of a piece of paper, Bella's fingers continuing to run over his hair, he bent his head, darted out his tongue, which he made sure was soaked with his venom to bring his Bella the maximum amount of pleasure without having to do things that would, inevitably, require them to be husband and wife first.
Pleasure rippled through his body at the first taste of her blood, the merest of droplets, however, again, the pleasure wasn't that of a predator capturing and killing its prey, but similar to that which a husband and wife felt when they were together in bed as only husband and wife should be, Bella's body arcing up, arching into him with a loud moan, along with a gurgled, barely recognizable version of his name. He continued to lick at his beloved's blood, but he didn't suck, draw anymore out, for he wanted to feed from her neck, directly from her pulse point, one of the five places he suspected would bring them both the most pleasure, but he had some things to take care of first. He would take care of the scar James's venom had left on her wrist, heal it with his venom, replace their memories of pain with one of complete, total pleasure and love.
Soon as blood stopped flowing into his mouth, he pulled back, was pleased to see there wasn't a mark on her, the skin of her palm soft and smooth and velvet, akin to that of an English Rose—could feel the blood he'd taken already being replaced. Bella moaned, arched her body up into him. "No, Edward, stop not, not now, you barely took any blood from me."
He stroked her hair, her face, trying to soothe her, gentle her, reassure her. "Hush now, my Bella, I figured it out, how to feed straight from you without injecting my venom into your system without the need of a knife, and I will do it soon, feed straight from your neck, directly from your pulsing artery, but first . . ."
He let his words trail off, leaving his sentence unfinished, took her hand, the one whose wrist James'd bitten, the skin they're soft and smooth and pale with just a brush of gold, but for the marks, the indentations James's very sharp teeth had left when he'd tried to drain Bella of her sweet, sweet blood, bent his head, darted out his tongue, cold as ice, soaked with venom, began licking over the indentations, those wretched marks James had left. Bella, she arched up, undulated against him, her soft, fragile, feminine curves pressed against him as she moved in time with the flicks of his tongue. "Tu es si sensible à moi, ma Bella, et nous ne sommes même pas encore si intimes, j'ai hâte de voir comment vous réagirez à mon égard lorsque nous serons ensemble comme seuls mari et femme devraient l'être."
Bella's eyes widened, her heart beginning to beat faster, her blood thrumming beneath her skin, through her pale blue veins, and he shook his head, remembering that his Bella did not yet speak this most romantic of languages, as it was one of the many things he intended to teach her over the millennia they would spend together. This language, French, unlike Emmett and his adoptive family believed, he didn't speak it perfectly because of his ability to read minds, nor because of his very long, Immortal existence, the endless quantity of free time he'd had before his Bella, the love of his existence, and his reason for living, came into his life. No, instead, it was a language his beloved mother, Elizabeth, had taught him with endless love and patience when they went to France due to one of his father's business trips.
The first seventeen years of his life, his human years, he'd spent around five months of the year in America, with the rest of the time being spent in Europe, mostly England, though two out of the remaining seven months were spent in France, a governess traveling with them wherever they went so he didn't fall behind on his education.
This was why, despite how many times he'd gone to high school and university, how many times he'd taken Spanish before, he continued to choose it for his foreign language requirement over and over again, though sometimes he wished he could sleep due to boredom, because pretending to learn French hit a little too close to home, made him miss his beloved mother, Elizabeth, even more. Of course, none of his adoptive family knew the true reason behind Edward continuing to choose Spanish over and over again, nor would they, especially not Emmett, his private life private, his decisions and feelings his own, to be only shared with the two people who he loved most in the world, his beloved mother, Elizabeth, and Bella, his beautiful bride-to-be and future wife.
Excitement, love, and adrenaline running in his veins, he glided his lips over her skin until they came to rest just over her ear, brushed over the soft, delicate, sensitive skin as he spoke, and when he did, translated what he'd said to her in French, he did so with an accent he hadn't used in a long, long time, nearly a century. "You are so sensitive to me, my Bella, and we are not even being that intimate yet, I cannot wait to see how you will react when we are together as only husband and wife should be."
Bella shivered, though from the burning, scorching heat in their bedroom, Edward surmised it wasn't because of the cold temperature of his skin, his body, the way they were twined together, but because of pure, unadulterated pleasure and love.
She dug her nails into his skin, dragged them down his back so hard, that, if he'd been human, his skin would have broken open, the scent of blood permeating the air. As it was, they both heard a loud, high-pitched, screeching sound, as if Bella was running her nails over rock or metal instead of skin. "That is quite enough licking at my wrist and teasing, Edward, my beautiful fiance and future husband, especially with that beautiful English accent of yours, which, by the way, I had no idea you could make, but I should have expected it, you do have dual citizenship, after all. I reckon your beloved mother, Elizabeth, would be quite scandalized if she heard you talking to me like this, especially since we are not even married yet, bound in matrimony. Now, come, feed from me, from my neck, straight from my pulsing artery, take what you need from my blood, from me, my love."
He laughed, soft, warm, and musical, purposely let his cold breath wash over her skin. 'So impatient you are, mon coeur."
From the way her breathing hitched, her heartbeat increasing slightly, Edward knew she didn't need a translation, had perfectly understood what he'd just called her. He pressed his lips to hers, the pressure light as a feather, the kiss closed‐mouthed, chased. "Very well then, I shall do as you wish, but let us get your beautiful, long, soft, luscious hair out of the way first, shall we? I do not wish to get it matted with blood . . . not that I am planning to let any of your precious, sweet blood spill in vain, I am just being cautious, careful. Oh, and as for my dear, beloved mother being scandalized by the way I am speaking to you right now despite us not being married yet, fret not, as that will never come to pass, mon amour. This, what we are doing, the way I am speaking to you, it is akin to pillow talk, only a precursor, what occurs in one of our marriage beds, the words we speak to each other, only to be known between you and I, private."
Gently, with the softest, most delicate of touches so his cold fingers would feel like naught but velvet against her skin, he brushed all of her long, beautiful, glorious hair, that when in the sun, he knew, had hints of red and a deep, yellow gold, that was so beautiful, so lustrous, he knew that when he changed her, her beauty becoming enhanced, that of an immortal being, she would be irresistible to men, human or not—to one side of her neck, exposing the soft, velvet, delicate, fragrant skin of her throat, her pulsing artery. That artery, it seemed to strain beneath her beautiful, flawless skin that was like that of an English Rose, hum with untamed, beautiful, wild energy, as if inviting him to reach out, bite and kiss it. He buried his face in her neck, nestling his nose in the warm, soft skin that was wet yet, then, without any hesitation or preamble, he gently, carefully, lovingly, bit into her soft flesh, careful not to inject any of his venom with his teeth.
Blood, hot, delicious, and smelling of his Bella, tasting of her, flowed into his mouth, and her blood, his beloved's blood, it was sweet and beautiful and his, and he would protect it—protect her, along with their future child, be it Edward or Nessy Elizabeth—for as long as they lived. He sucked at the wound he'd made with ardor all the while being very careful so his teeth didn't inject venom directly into her system, careful, too, not to take too much of her blood too quickly or hurt her in any way, his tongue, cold as ice, soaked with venom, flicking and licking at her blood.
Pleasure, beautiful and unbridled, not of a predator chasing and killing its prey, but akin to that of a husband when tangling in the sheets with his wife, filled his body, and, Edward surmised from the way Bella was arching up, off of the bed, pressing herself against him, her body undulating against his in a rhythm that matched that of the flicks and licks of his tongue as he licked and sucked at her blood with devotion and love, hers as well. He wanted to take her to the sheets, strip her to the skin, lay her bare before him, claim her as his, make her his, however, he wouldn't do that, not until they were married, bound in holy matrimony, but they were practicing for their wedding night and honeymoon, and Edward guessed it was time to take things up a nudge.
Pulling away from her neck, knowing he'd fed enough . . . at least for now, because in all probability, he'd end up feeding from her again in a couple of minutes, when all the blood he'd taken was safely replenished, his lips stained and dark, crimson with her heart's blood, he looked at her, her beautiful, delicate, heart-shaped face awashed in pleasure, her deep, chocolate brown eyes beseeching him to give her more, give her everything, something which, no matter how much he wanted to oblige, he couldn't do, at least not yet, not until they were married, bound in matrimony—knew she was the most beautiful, sensual creature he'd ever met and seen.
He licked his lips, wiping away her blood, purposely let his mouth fill with venom, then swallowed, effectively rinsing his mouth off so Bella wouldn't taste her own blood when he kissed her, ran his fingers gently up and down her arms, his voice low and feather soft, even as he reached for a tube of tungsten, his movements too fast for Bella to be able to register. "Are you wearing anything under this beautiful robe of yours, my sweet, only love, mon coeur?" If Bella's answer was no, then he wouldn't take it off, no matter his desire to take things up a nudge, for he wouldn't see her in such a way, stripped to the skin or in her bra and panties, not yet.
Bella threaded her fingers through his hair, pulling gently at the soft, heavy, cool silk, drew him down for a soft, honey-sweet, deep kiss. "Yes, of course." Bella's voice sounded soft and lazy, was of a woman who was being pleasured by her lover.
Edward didn't waste any time, question her further, as he trusted her, stripped her of her robe, letting it fall to the floor in a ripple, his eyes roaming over her beautiful, perfect, soft, fragile body, the demure, yet sexy negligee that clothed her, hugging her every curve and dip perfectly while still leaving her mostly modest.
Made of the softest of silks the same color as her robe, the negligee was beautiful, soft and feminine, clung to her in such a way, it delineated her every curve and valley, her every dip, even the graceful, soft swells of her breasts, had a neckline that to most men, including his adoptive brothers and Carlisle, was awfully modest, though it was wide and long enough to leave most of her chest exposed to his gaze, his lips, and even just a hint of the creamy swells of her breasts, though, again, to most men, his adoptive brothers and Carlisle included, this would have been unnoticeable. "Bella." Her name was a moan and a caress as he lowered his head to the center of her chest, carefully avoiding the soft, intimate swells of her breasts, for he would not touch her that way, not until he was her husband.
Bella threaded her fingers through his hair, stroked gently, her voice soft and nervous when she spoke, barely audible to human ears. "I could change, if you want."
He felt the skin beneath his cheek warm, her blood that was, in all honesty, like an aphrodisiac, rushing to the surface, likely coloring her cheeks. He looked up, saw his summation had been right, the apples of her cheeks now a light, beautiful rose, her eyes on her fingers, which were continuing to run over his hair softly, lovingly. He cupped her face, thumbs stroking the contours of her cheeks, cooling her overheated skin. "Non, c'est parfait, tu es parfait." At Bella's confused look, Edward quickly translated what he'd said, his tone soft, full of love and other, deeper emotions. "No, it is perfect, you are perfect."
He leaned in, kissed her, soft as a whisper at first, then with more ardor, his lips moving gently, but very passionately, against hers, and when Bella gasped, her mouth opening up beneath his, Edward took full advantage, stroked his tongue, cold as ice, soaked with his venom, inside, not afraid that he'd possibly hurt her, not now that he knew the strong, pure love they shared was literally preventing him from causing her harm—making her writhe in his embrace. Keeping the tube of tungsten in one hand, squeezing it hard, he ran the other, soft as silk, down her leg, pausing at her
kneecap, hitching it around his hip, then repeated the process with her broken leg as much as he could, careful not to hurt her, making her beautiful, demure, but sexy negligee lift up slightly. Trusting his Bella, his heart and his soul, his reason for existing, to keep herself wrapped about him, he glided his hands gently, slowly, all over her body, exploring her skin, careful not to touch the places that were only for husbands to touch, pausing momentarily on her thigh, breaking the kiss, moving his mouth so he could speak with his lips right over her ear. "Soon, my Bella, perhaps during our wedding night and honeymoon, I will drink of your sweet, sweet, delicious blood through your femoral artery."
Bella moaned and groaned, likely beyond words, as Edward disentangled himself from her, slid down her body slightly to lift up her negligee just enough so he could press a soft, sweet, wet, loving kiss to her navel while still keeping her mostly covered and modest. He felt Bella's fingers gently tugging at his hair, silently asking him to come back up, kiss her again. He went to oblige, but when he lifted his face away from her warm, soft, beautiful skin, he saw her deep, chocolate brown eyes were filled with a mixture of love, desire, fear, and determination. He was about to ask her what was the matter, but she told him without him having to ask. "Promise me, promise me you will never, no matter how long it is that we live, kiss me directly down there . . . on my most private flesh, make love to me without looking into my eyes."
Ah, so that was what worried her, why she was afraid? Well, then, he could easily assuage her worries and fears.
He slid back up her body so he could press his forehead against hers, gently, lovingly, took her face between his hands, the rising blood in her cheeks making her impossibly more beautiful, making Edward want her in a way that had nothing to do with his vampire nature. "You need not fret so, Darling, mon coeur, as that will never come to pass, nor will I ever ask you to take me into your mouth, get onto your hands and knees. Those acts, they are ones of lust and self-centeredness rather than love, though sometimes they can be tinged with a deranged kind of love, I know this better than anyone." Edward tapped his temple with his forefinger, a quick reminder that he could read people's minds, Bella herself being the only exception. "Besides, you and I, we are not Carlisle, Esme, Alice, Jasper, Rosalie, Emmett, or like any other couple on the planet."
A shudder rippled through him as he remembered some of his adoptive family's most vile sexual thoughts, though Emmett and Rosalie's thoughts had always been the most perverted. Bella opened her mouth, went as if to ask him what he was thinking, but he shook his head, taking her hand in his, pressing a soft, honey-sweet kiss to her open palm, then her wrist to take the sting out of his denial to tell her. "No, mon coeur, this I would not tell you, for I do not wish to fill your beautiful mind with vile, perverted, sexual images, but know this, out of our whole adoptive family, Rosalie and Emmett's sexual thoughts and practices are the most deranged, filled with mostly lust rather than love. They are so perverted and disgusting, ugh, I am very, very glad I am not living in the Cullen household anymore, but here with you."
Bella cupped his face between her soft, warm hands, kissed him, soft and sweet and deep. "Forget about the outside world, our family, be here with me, in the moment, kiss me, let us continue to practice for our wedding night and honeymoon." Bella made her voice low and soft, just right to appeal to his male senses, drive him mad with longing and need, a need that went far beyond a desire of the flesh, simple lust, was so pure, it had no name.
"Oh, my Bella, mon amour, mon coeur." Edward's words were a soft groan before he kissed her, pouring all of his love, passion, and ardor into the kiss, a small part of his vampiric mind keeping tabs on the strength of his touches and kisses, for he couldn't let go of his self-control, not completely, not yet, for his Bella, she was still human.
Bella went slack against him, relaxing, trusting him, as always, with her life. Her unconditional trust in him, it undid and amazed him, especially because it had always been thus, even when he hadn't trusted himself around her for fear of draining her of her sweet, sweet blood. "Edward, my love." It was a soft, quiet, sensual plea as she tilted her head, exposing her throat and throbbing artery to him. Though Edward couldn't read her mind, he knew exactly what she wanted, what she was asking, it was written all over her face, her body language, and so he bit gently at the soft flesh of her neck, right over her artery, careful not to inject any of his venom with his teeth while he sucked, his tongue, cold as ice, soaked with venom, flicking over her soft, warm, smooth, beautiful skin, licking at her blood.
They continued like that all night, until the wee hours of the morning, five o'clock to be precise, kissing and exploring each other's bodies, Edward keeping it PG-13, as they weren't married yet and he wouldn't do to his Bella what only a husband should do to his wife yet, alternating between drinking her sweet, sweet blood, waiting for it to be replenished again, and kissing her, amazed and pleased at his complete, total self-control, his restraint, both of them unaware and on caring of the mess that was becoming of the sheets of their bed.
A soft, cold kiss pressed to her shoulder. Bella stretched, snuggled into Edward, who had one arm round her, the other likely behind his head, opened her eyes. "How much trouble am I in?"
He raised an eyebrow, his fingers running rhythmically up and down her back. "Trouble?"
Bella blushed, heat and her blood coloring her cheeks, buried her face in the junction of his neck, where it met with his shoulder, inhaled the sweet, intoxicating, addictive scent of his skin. "Well . . ." She pressed a sweet kiss to his throat, where, if he'd been human, she'd been able to feel his pulse, his skin soft and smooth and hard under her lips. "We did get a bit carried away last night?"
"Hmm." It was a deep, contented hum coming from the back of his throat.
Edward shifted, tilted her head to the side, exposing her throat, nestled his face against her neck, his nose ending up right over her pulsing artery. "You smell lovely, my Bella, like lavender and freesia with a hint of honey lilac." He ran his lips softly up and down her throat, letting his very sharp teeth scrape gently, so gently it was naught but the merest of touches, over her skin. "The honey lilac—it is what I smell like to others of my kind. The way our scents are mixing and mingling together—even in your blood, it must be because of what is happening to our souls, how they are bonding together, becoming one, and what we did last night, how I drank from you, must have strengthened it. I quite like this new development, wonder what our family will think of it. And, no, mon coeur, I am not cross with you, if that is the reason why you are fretting so, mon amour, I quite like getting carried away with you, losing track of time, but I will not let go of my self-control entirely, not until you are strong enough."
She lifted her face from his skin, relieved that he wasn't mad at her, regretted anything that transpired between the two of them last night, happy at all of his lapses of self-control, the fact that he seemed much more relaxed, less rigid than when they first met, started courting each other, as if the more time they spent together, the more Edward trusted himself around her, trusted that he wouldn't hurt her, vampiric strength and impulses or not. His eyes, of a light blue that was akin to glaciers, but so much more beautiful, slowly shifting into an emerald green that was akin to that of his mother's eyes, but a thousand times more beautiful, glittered, danced with love, excitement, and, if Bella wasn't mistaken, a little smugness, too. "Of course, I do have to clean our room before my beloved mother, Elizabeth, arrives, as it is in a state of disarray, but I can do that after you change, when you are eating a light, late breakfast and lunch, as we will be eating again shortly, of that I have no doubt."
"Wha—" Bella shut her mouth before she could finish her question, decided to discern for herself what he meant. She looked around their room, and everything seemed tidy at first, well organized and orderly, as things usually were when she was with him, then she looked at the floor of their room . . . a fine, sparkly, silvery substance, as if Edward had spread silver glitter all around their room, littered the floor. Not only that, now that she was paying attention to herself and her surroundings, she could feel a sticky, wet substance on the pillow case, though, thankfully, it didn't touch her hair. Bella knew what it was without turning, Edward's venom mixed with a minuscule amount of her blood.
For the second time in as many minutes since she woke up, she buried her face against the junction of his neck, where it met with his shoulder, inhaled the sweet, intoxicating, addictive scent of his skin, pressed another kiss to his throat, aware of blood and figurative fire rampant in her veins, that Edward, her beautiful fiance and future husband, could hear her very rapid heartbeat. "You would think I would have hurt that, you destroying and crushing a tube of tungsten, noticed this substance that is your venom mixed with a very, very miniscule amount of my blood on the pillow case, and no doubt places on the sheets, too." Her voice was low, naught but a whisper, inaudible to human ears.
But Edward, the love of her existence, he wasn't human, wasn't anything close to human . . . at least not when it came to his supernatural senses.
Again, Edward tilted her head, nestling his face against her throat, his nose ending up over her pulsing artery before it was replaced by his cold, hard, yet soft and yielding, familiar lips. "Hmm." He bit lightly at her neck, her throbbing and pulsing artery, not hard enough to break skin, draw blood, or leave a mark, but just hard enough to drive her mad. "You seem to be extraordinarily unobservant when your attention is otherwise involved, mon coeur,I, on the other hand, still have to keep a very small but important part of my mind still functioning when we are together as we were last night, though I love losing track of time with you, kissing you, so I can keep tabs on you, the strength I am using when I kiss and hold you. I shall take you to the washroom so you can get changed, then it is time for a very, very late breakfast and lunch."
Her heartbeat and breathing spiked, Edward, who had supernatural senses, noticing this right away, raising one perfectly bronze eyebrow, his lips tilting up slightly, adrenaline and love humming in her veins. It should have been painful and scary, having very sharp vampire teeth near her throat, piercing her skin, and, if it was any other vampire, it would have been, but instead, all she felt at the thought of Edward biting and drinking from her again was a wave of pure, unadulterated pleasure, both physical and emotional, and love. She brushed all of her hair over one shoulder, leaving the skin of her neck without any obstacles, tilted her head to the side, exposing her throat to him. Soft, musical, male laughter, cool breath washing over her as he leaned in, inhaled the scent of her skin. "Not for me."
Her heartbeat and breathing spiked even more, and she closed her eyes, looked up at him through her eyelashes, made her voice feather soft. "Please?" At his lack of response, the way his breathing spiked despite him not needing to breathe, Bella pleaded again, trying to make her voice and appearance even more alluring. "Please, Edward, my beautiful fiance and future husband, mon coeur?"
A soft, low growl escaped from his throat. "You, my Bella, my love, are the most dangerous, sensual creature on the planet, mon coeur. All right, I will feed from you once more before my beloved mother, Elizabeth, arrives, but you must get changed, take care of your human needs first." He helped her sit up, swing her legs out of the bed, even as he spoke.
She let out a low groan, let her head thud lightly against his shoulder. "What time is it? What should I wear? I know you reckon I look beautiful no matter what I wear, but I want to please you, make you desire me even more, get under your skin so your stupid, perfect self-control will not get in the way so much."
A slight shrug. "Whatever you would like . . . perhaps an evening frock, as by the time we meet Charlie in the Cullen household, it will be early evening."
Bella smiled, decided to play with him a little just because she could. "Alright, but I warn you now, beautiful, future husband of mine, I am not going to put on gloves, I loathe taking my engagement ring off."
"How scandalous of you, Mrs Masen," his voice was full of mock horror, for he, too, was playing with her, "I am affronted and scandalized." He became serious from one heartbeat to the next, his beautiful, emerald green eyes, so much like that of his beloved mother, Elizabeth, but a million times more beautiful, for no other creature could ever possess his irises, mesmerizing, looking deeply into hers, as he cupped her face, cold fingers stroking over her warm skin. "I care not, whether you wear gloves or not outside of our home, I love seeing your engagement ring on your finger too much. In fact, even had I met you as a youngling, when I was human, I reckon I still would have cared not, though it would have been scandalous, to be sure."
He lifted her up, like how a groom carried his new bride, cradled her close to his heart, Bella asking him to pause by their closet so she could take out the garment bag containing the evening dress she wanted, along with matching shoes.She blushed, heat and blood coloring her cheeks, imagining Edward's reaction when he saw her in the dress she'd chosen, but didn't say anything when he raised an eyebrow, wanting to surprise him.Alice would probably throw a fit when she saw how Bella was starting to dress herself, that is, of course, if she was at the house when they got there, but Bella didn't care.Besides, she had Edward, her beautiful fiance and future husband, and his beloved mother, Elizabeth, to back her up, and neither of them would let Alice push Bella too much.Bella didn't realize it, but while she was thinking, Edward had moved and they were now in the washroom, her crutches within reach."Call for me when you have finished so I can come fetch you."Edward pressed a kiss to her forehead, her lips, then he was gone.
The first thing she did after Edward left was take care of her human needs, use the loo and wash her face, adding one step to her quick, comprehensive, skin care routine, applying elderflower water on her skin. Then she opened the garment bag containing her evening frock, ran her fingers over the soft, delicate, beautiful fabric.
It was beautiful, her dress, long and flowy, would cover her brace perfectly, made of soft ice blue silk, overlaid with mesh fabric that was a darker blue, the mesh covered with intricate beading and silver detailing. The short sleeves, made of the same dark blue mesh fabric, were embroidered with true white gold thread, and their length didn't bother Bella, though Edward was totally opposed to holding and cuddling her when so much of her skin was exposed for fear of her getting cold, because she had a matching blue silk shawl, embroidered with beautiful, intricate patterns of true white gold thread and studded with what she hoped were fake diamonds, to cover up with. The fabric and shape of the dress, they hugged her every curve and valley perfectly, giving her an hourglass figure without her needing to wear a corset and petticoats, exactly as she'd hoped, because though she wasn't one for purposely showing off, it was the figure most common in Edwards youth.
She pinned back her hair in the style of before, that of when Edward, her beautiful fiance and future husband, had been human, using white gold hair pins, slipped on her shoe, hoping she didn't regret her choice of footwear, as it was a high heel shoe, then did something she'd never done before because she wanted to . . . applied a very slight amount of cream, rose-colored lipstick on her lips. She turned so her back was to the mirror, against the sink, and she could look at Edward when he came in, called, "Edward," her voice no louder than if he'd been standing right next to her.
He was there in less than a second, his beautiful, perfect, angel's face and eyes lighting up, back against the door frame, arms crossed over his chest, his gasp audible even to her ears. Slowly, his lips curved into that half smile she loved, that made her heart beat faster.
Just as slowly, deliberately, he walked over to her, his arms coming about her waist, lifting her up, onto the sink, her legs opening up of their own accord so he could stand in between. "You look lovely, my Bella, truly beautiful, mon coeur, as if I were taking you to an evening party." He placed a light, chased kiss to her lips, narrowed his eyes at her, a playful edge to them she was becoming more and more accustomed to. "Are you attempting to test my resolve not to bed you until after our wedding nuptials? Because, mon amour, I reckon, if you would have dressed thus while I was human, had not the self-control I do now, I would not have been able to contain myself, would have bedded you in our bed right now. As it is, I want to kiss and hold you close, explore the curves and valleys of your beautiful body, in a gentlemanly fashion, of course, but my beloved mother, Elizabeth, will be here soon, and I did tell you I would feed from you once more before she got here."
Her lips opened up in a gasp, warm breath washing over his face. "Ed—"
"Hush, my beautiful bride." He bent down, covered her lips with his own—cold, hard, yet soft and familiar, his kiss swallowing her words as he lifted her, carried her to their bedroom, fast like only he could, laid her down on their bed. He didn't say anything for what seemed like minutes, nor did he touch her, simply stood over her, then, after what seemed like an eternity to Bella, he laid down, his body coming over hers, his words, "You are so beautiful, my Bella, so strong, I cannot wait to marry you, make you mine forever," quiet and soft.
She stretched up her hands, threaded her fingers through the soft, heavy, cool silk of his hair, pulling gently at the strands. "Kiss me, Husband." Bella's words were soft and shaky, of a wife to her husband in bed, not of lust but of pure, untainted love. Sure, perhaps the term "husband" had been a bit farfetched, as she and Edward weren't married yet, then again all that was missing was an official wedding ceremony, after all, in the eyes of God, they were already binding themselves together, as evidenced by the twining and binding of their souls.
His body trembled above her, the emotions gripping him, pure love, among others that were unnamable, powerful, and the look in his beautiful eyes of emerald green, eyes no other creature would ever possess, human or not . . . told her that if such a thing was possible, he would be crying right then. Perhaps he couldn't cry, as such a thing was impossible for vampires, even for him, though he was one of a kind, but the look in his eyes, the way his voice was hoarse, raw, and filled with unnamable emotions, conveyed the same message. "I love you, my Bella, I waited a hundred and three years for you and I would wait a hundred—a thousand more if that is what it took to be with you."
He bent his head, kissed her, soft, sweet, and deep, deep as he was willing to without fear of hurting her, his tongue, cold as ice, soaked with venom, darting out to take in the taste of her skin, stroking into her mouth when she opened it in a gasp. Bella didn't know how much time passed in this way, but when she pulled away, needing to breathe—stupid human needs, Edward's lips, they didn't leave her skin, simply moved on to her neck and throat, paying special attention to her pulse, her artery straining beneath her skin, begging for a blood kiss. He bit down gently at the flesh of her throat, over her artery, his very sharp teeth piercing through her skin like butter, but it wasn't painful, Edward flicking out his tongue, cold as ice, soaked in venom, beginning to lick at her blood with tender flicks of his tongue, heat pooling low in her stomach, to the hot, aching place between her thighs.
She threaded her fingers through the soft, heavy, cool silk of his hair, undulated against him, every curve of her body fitting perfectly with his, began to squirm when her teeth began to hurt. The ache was sharp, akin to how, she imagined, a babe would feel when growing teeth for the first time, but much, much more potent. Her heartbeat spiked, both from the pleasure Edward was bringing her as he fed from her and the sharp, unfamiliar pain, causing Edward to pull away too soon. His lips were wet, ruby red with her blood, and perhaps, if she was any other human, that would have bothered her, but, as it was, she really, really liked it. One cool finger traced the contours of her face, her cheekbones, her lips. "What is the matter, Bella, did I hurt you, Love?"
A shake of her head as she attempted to pull him back to her, but it was futile, he was much, much stronger than her, wouldn't come back, kiss and feed from her again, until she told him what was wrong. "No, Edward, my beautiful, overprotective fiancé, of course not. My teeth, they hurt, as if I'm growing them anew."
His eyebrows knitted together, a little vee marring his forehead. "Open your mouth, mon coeur."
She did so without hesitation, her trust in him so deep. He stroked one cold finger into her mouth, ran it very gently along her top teeth. What happened next, neither of them knew how it was possible, though it could be because of the way their souls were beginning to bind together, but though he was a vampire, his skin cold, hard, impenetrable, her teeth broke through it at the slightest brush, blood, his blood, dripping into her mouth, hitting her tongue. She groaned, instinctively closed her mouth around his finger, began licking and sucking at his blood. Though she was human, was not yet a vampire, wouldn't be until after she gave birth to their future child, be it Edward or Nessy Elizabeth, Edward's blood, it didn't taste like rust and salt, bitter, but sweet, so sweet, her own, personal aphrodisiac.
A low growl escaped his throat, and he gently pried his finger out of her mouth, then, before Bella could say anything, he moved fast like only he could, went somewhere, probably to wipe her saliva off his finger, had her in his lap, straddling his hips, in less than a second. His emerald green eyes, akin to that of his beloved mother, Elizabeth, but a thousand times more beautiful, eyes no human, no other creature would ever possess, looking deeply into her own, cold, gentle, strong hands cupping her face, thumbs stroking her cheekbones. "Are you thirsty, my Bella, do you feel a burning in the back of your throat, mon amour?"
She brought her hand to her throat, not realizing until that moment, other than her teeth hurting, that was, exactly, what she was feeling. The ache, though, it was mild, nothing compared to what, she surmised, she'd feel when Edward changed her, her thirst that of a vampire. Her facial expressions and body language must have made her train of thought, at least partially, pretty clear, because Edward's next words, "Drink, my Bella, drink, my sweet, only love, take what you need from me," were gentle and loving as he offered her his wrist.
She shook her head, her mouth rimmed with his heart's-blood, she could feel it sinking into her skin, taste it on her tongue. "No, Edward, my beautiful fiancé, I still want you to drink from me, feed, the quantity of blood that you had is very little." Bella lowered her lashes, made her voice feather soft, appealing to Edward's male senses. "Please?"
Soft, quiet, musical, male laughter. "You, my Bella, are the most dangerous, sensual creature on the planet, siren that you are." He readjusted her in his lap, tilted his head to the side, exposing his jugular and artery to her. "All right then, let us both feed off of one another's blood at the same time. I really want you hurting not, Darling, want to satisfy your every need, and for some yet unknown reason, though, of course, we can ask my beloved mother, Elizabeth, later—you are craving my blood, though you are not yet a vampire."
He stroked her hair, glided his fingers, cold, hard, but soft as satin, over her throat, her pulse. "It is a wonderful, wondrous thing, really, how earlier we were speaking of me not able to satisfy you the way you are satisfying me when I turn you, and now I get to do this, satisfy you with my blood though you are not yet a vampire, and I, akin to those of my kind, have no heartbeat, should have no blood running in my veins."
He shook his head, kissed her, soft, sweet, and deep, deep as he was willing to without fear of hurting her, bit gently at her lower lip, hard enough to draw blood, but not hard enough to hurt her, his tongue, cold as ice, soaked with venom, darting out to lick at her blood in tender flicks. Bella was hot, too hot, partially because of the heater in the bedroom, partially because of the reactions her body was having to him, her blood boiling, burning beneath her skin, even as it was replaced as he drank. She bit at his lip, too, her teeth easily breaking through his skin, as if it was always meant to be this way, his sweet, sweet blood hitting her tongue.
"Such temperature, heat under your skin, my Bella, my beautiful bride-to-be and future wife, here, let me use the cold temperature of my skin to cool you down." Edward didn't slide his hands beneath her clothes, for he was old-fashioned, wouldn't do that, her beautiful fiance, until they were married. What he did instead, however, it was just as intimate, as pleasurable, for he continued to give her a small amount of his venom without injecting it directly into her bloodstream even as they kissed, continued to drink of the other's blood. He ran his hands all over her body, from her shoulders, down her arms, over her back and ribs, the front of her body, her stomach and chest, carefully avoiding her breasts, for he wouldn't touch her like that, not until they were married.
They continued to kiss like that for what could have been minutes or hours, stopping only when Bella needed to breathe, Edward's lips moving on to her throat, but eventually he pulled away with a low, soft chuckle. "No," she pouted, "come back."
"My beloved mother, Elizabeth," he caressed her skin, his lips a hair's breadth away from hers, "will be here any second now."