Six: Hunter
Although Bella catches her own deer this time, I follow my earlier tactic and take down two. She actually smiles at me as she swaps from the drained carcass to the fresh one, but I wait until she has completely finished before standing up. When I do, her eyes immediately fix on me, but there is no threat in them—only a hunger that makes my whole body tingle in anticipation.
She stands and strips off her dress in the same movement, traversing the ten yards between us in a flash. My hands forget the task of unfastening my trousers and reach for her. She giggles as I pull her against me with all my strength, uniting our lips with an urgency that proves my impatience.
As we kiss, she caresses my face, my hair, my neck, my shoulders. I run my hands all over her back, reveling in the feel of her naked body. But as wonderful as this is, I still want more; the way her nails dig into my skin here and there implies she's equally enthusiastic. And then she places her hands across my clavicles, splays her fingers, and drags them down through my shirt, shredding it into a dozen strips and making me groan with need.
She hums softly, gratified by my response, then shifts us to the ground—without breaking our kiss—and stretches out atop me, draping one arm across my right shoulder and one leg over my left knee. Thanks to her newborn strength, I am completely pinned to the ground. It is intensely erotic, propelling me to the edge of climax even before she rips apart my trousers and unites our bodies.
When I cry out, she obviously hears the passion in my voice, for she gives a deliberate twist-and-thrust of her hips that sends me over the edge in a wave of pure ecstasy. Distantly, I hear her crying out with me, and then her lips are on me again, kissing my neck, sliding along my jaw. My attention splits further as she shifts herself into a position we haven't yet employed since she became immortal, then initiates a more complex rhythm—all the while still pinning me to the ground.
Her touch is electric and her gorgeous moans resonate deep inside me, setting my nerves on fire in the most exquisite way. When I find myself having a little more freedom to move, I wish I could use her thoughts to guide my actions. But there's no doubt she's enjoying herself as thoroughly as I am, so it's easy to remind myself that she prefers it this way.
Despite taking a little more time to revel in the glorious sensations, our next orgasms quickly follow. In the proceeding tranquility, Bella stills. One of my hands is cupping her cheek, and she lets her head rest against it. I hold her face to mine, not wanting to move a millimeter.
As a little more of my wits return, I wonder if it's sexier that she doesn't realize she'd been restraining me or if I want her to deliberately hold me down. My focus right now, though, is on not breaking the seal between our lips. It gives me a particular thrill that her lips not only feel soft against mine, but warm, too, now that we are the same temperature.
Bella kisses me languidly, sliding her tongue along my bottom lip, but when I try to up the pace once more, she sits up a little and shifts her hands to cup my face. "Edward?" she murmurs, sending a fresh thrill through me; if she weren't holding my head in place, I would have pressed forward before my brain caught up with my body. "Do you miss my warmth?"
"Honestly," I murmur slowly, while my brain reengages with my mouth, "there's only one thing I miss, and everything I've gained more than makes up for it."
"What?" she asks intently, sitting all the way up, and I regret not answering her directly.
"Your heartbeat."
She smiles tenderly, relaxing immediately, though she resists when I try gently encouraging her to lie back down. "I miss that, too," she agrees. Then she looks at her left thigh and taps her finger along an imaginary line curving from mid-thigh to just above her knee. "I miss the freckles that were here. I liked the pattern they made; they were my own special constellation."
"Me, too." An idea springs to mind, so I reach across to my trousers and retrieve the little space pen I always carry with me. She giggles as I begin drawing the five freckles where they'd been, matching the size and shape as best I can in this comparatively rough medium. The ink won't last long—a few hours at best—but we can always reapply it whenever she's feeling nostalgic.
Thinking about these changes in her body reminds me of a question I have for her—one I've not dared ask before. "Did you ever wish I had a heartbeat?"
She laughs—hopefully because the question is so unexpected—and then strokes my cheek. "Why would I?" she counters earnestly. "You are utterly perfect. I didn't miss anything."
I don't want to interrupt her, but I can't stop myself from silencing her with a kiss. She responds as willingly as ever, with all the passion of a newborn, and I am instantly lost.
Even after she murmurs sultrily, "I remember," all I can think is that I can barely remember my own name. She gives a self-satisfied hum as she waits for my brain to catch up. "I remember," she repeats, "wondering what sex would've been like if you were human—and I know I prefer you a vampire." She laughs delightedly. "You're like Superman, but better."
"I'm real?" I tease (because the other comparisons that come to mind don't favor me).
"You're mine," she declares, all teasing forgotten as she reclaims my lips and reinitiates the rhythm of our bodies.
At some point, a ray of moonlight bursts through clouds and lights up our heads. I feel more strongly than ever that we've transcended the physical dimension and entered a higher plane of existence. The pleasure inside me peaks in a rush, and then we're crying out together once again.
As our breathing evens out, Bella nuzzles my neck for a moment, before lifting her head to admire the countless rainbows cascading off our skin. "That eighth color—what is it?"
"We used to just call it ultraviolet, until Emmett named it mega-violet."
She grins. "What do others call it?"
"I don't think they care enough to call it anything."
"Weird."
I laugh softly. "To them, we're the weird ones."
"Their loss," she murmurs, leaning in once more—but before our lips meet, the light shifts and the uppermost scar on my arm flashes brilliant white, cutting through the rainbows.
Bella jerks back in surprise, her face twisting with anguish. If she weren't holding my arm, I'd move it out of the light.
"That was my fault," I remind her (as much as I'd love to blame Jacob). "I broke the treaty."
Her expression smooths out, but her remorse is still palpable. She places her hand over the blemish in my granite skin and the rainbows return. "None of the others attacked you."
"True!" I agree, delighted to absolve myself.
She chuckles, seeming to share my sense of release from the guilt, then asks, "Why do most colors look basically the same?"
The question shouldn't surprise me given it relates to our previous topic of conversation, but it catches me off guard. Fortunately, Carlisle and I have discussed the point at length, so answering it doesn't require any thought. "Carlisle and I think it's because our optical system is trained for the spectrum of light visible to humans, so that's what our brains concentrate on. The biggest differences show up at night, and yet we still see familiar colors then, too."
She nods. "Makes sense. And the clarity means ordinary things already look so different. Remembering how they used to look is harder than I thought it would be."
"I'm pretty sure it's a lot harder for normal newborns."
She laughs at that, then strokes my cheek, her eyes shining with love and joy. "How does Elizabeth Bennet put it? Even fifty Bingleys couldn't make her as happy as Jane—but then she changes her mind…" Her brow knits in concentration for a split second, then smooths out. "I can't remember," she says lightly.
I know the quotes she's referring to—and I'm torn between being impressed that she remembers so much and not being surprised considering the dozens of times she'd read that particular novel. "It's only forty men," I tease, and she laughs, reinforcing the link to the second quote. "I am the happiest creature in the world. Perhaps other people have said so before, but no one with such justice. I am happier even than Jane; she only smiles, I laugh."
She obliges me by laughing again, and her joyous, melodious laughter rings through the trees. "Would you mind watching it one last time with me?"
"I'd watch Big Brother with you."
She thinks for a split second, no doubt trying to place the reference, then lets out another peal of laughter. "Let's never watch that!"
"Music to my ears," I reply, moving to kiss her once more, but she lays a hand over my mouth, so I obediently still.
"Renesmee," she says, and I can hardly argue with that, although it's still difficult not to tighten my grip when she starts to pull out of my arms.
She throws my torn trousers to me on the way to collect her dress, then stares down at the two fallen deer.
"Shall I get this hide while you start on one of those?" I offer, hoping she'll give herself a chance to practice being gentle.
She bites her lip—a clear signal of nerves and self-consciousness—so I direct my attention to securing my trousers for the trip to the tanning barrels. After dithering for another moment, she kneels down and carefully widens the hole at the deer's neck.
Honoring my side of the bargain I'd proposed, I start stripping the hide from the nearest deer. Bella is less than halfway through the first hide when I finish mine, so I work more slowly on the third, timing it so that we finish together.
She grins at me, then makes a show of expertly folding up her hide (copying my technique) and says, "Race you back!"
She takes off at once, leaving me to snatch up the other hide (which, fortunately, I'd already folded) and sprint after her. I have to drape the unfolded hide over my shoulder and hold it against my chest to minimize drag, and the obstruction means it takes longer to get up to speed.
It is still physically disturbing to have her out of sight, but experiencing something of her strength firsthand seems to have made it a little easier to manage the feeling, to hold the blind panic at bay—because she is more than capable of protecting herself. It helps that, despite declaring a contest, she has settled at a comparatively slow 355 mph, which means I catch up in less than a second.
She laughs when she sees the way I'm carrying the third hide and waggles an eyebrow. "My sexy caveman."
"Irresistibly sexy?" I ask, giving her the crooked smile that had never failed to make her heart react. But although she responds with a sexy smirk of her own—which can only mean yes and makes my unsated desire all but undeniable—she doesn't slow.
When Rey's thoughts reach me seven seconds later, revealing that she's still asleep, I can't resist suggesting more directly that we take our time. "We needn't hurry back—Rey's not awake yet."
"She could wake any moment," Bella counters.
Having anticipated that response, I console myself with the opportunity it presents. "I suppose we can correct Jacob's grossest misassumption—imprinting on Rey doesn't automatically make her his mate."
When Bella comes to an immediate halt, hands balled into fists, I'm not completely caught off guard, so I stop less than a yard ahead.
"He thinks of Rey as his MATE?" she hisses, and I realize I was a little careless with my wording.
"Future mate," I clarify (though that's scarcely any better). I want to point out that he'd thought of Bella as his girl, too, but I want to ease her rage, not increase it. "He just needs a reminder that Rey decides what he is to her."
"Oh, I'll remind him," she growls, sprinting off again.
This time, I lose sight of her for less than two tenths of a second (though her constant growling tells me exactly where she is). When we reach the tanning barrels, I half expect her to dump the hide on the nearest barrel without pause, but she actually stops and opens two of them, taking charge of all three hides while I change my clothes.
By the time we start running again, she is no longer growling, though her frown is just as heavy. When she stops on the lawn outside the house, I follow suit. Our family is intrigued but not concerned by this variation in procedure, and I find myself wondering whether, if Jasper were here, he would've leapt to the conclusion that Bella had made her first "slip".
Esme opens the door with a smile, but the moment she sees Bella's murderous expression, she freezes. Her eyes snap to my face, and my composure instantly reassures her. "Bella?" she asks tentatively.
"Please send Jacob outside," Bella says menacingly.
Esme gives a little eep and zips out onto the porch, while everyone else stares at Jacob. His mind is already running through all the reasons Bella might be mad at him; he knows there are many, and he'd been expecting me to "rat" on him eventually.
Seth gestures toward the door, but Jacob isn't ready to face Bella's wrath, so Seth goes first, saying, "I'm coming out," just in case Bella is primed to take down the first wolf she sees.
The others follow him, not wanting to miss this either. Jacob hangs back, waiting for Rosalie, too, even though she is holding Renesmee and clearly not going anywhere.
Finally, after she gives a scornful shake of the head, the apprehensive boy steps into the doorway. "Hey, Bells," he says as cheerfully as he can muster, though his rapid pulse—which spikes when he sees Bella's glower—gives him away.
"Whatever wolfy claim you think you have over Renesmee," she growls, "think again." Jacob's face goes blank with astonishment; this issue hadn't crossed his mind for a second (because, to him, it's fact). "She's not your mate—she's a baby. And when she's older, she'll decide who she wants to be with."
He doesn't know what to say; all he can think is that of course he doesn't think of Rey that way—so he blames me for either misinterpreting or willfully misrepresenting his thoughts.
"She's not yours," I tell him, making the point as plainly as possible, and yet he still doesn't think he has ever thought that. "You're fooling yourself—you started thinking like that within minutes of imprinting."
"Not like that!" he argues hotly, making the distinction between romantic feelings and "other" feelings. "If she's my soulmate, then I'm—"
At Bella's wordless snarl, he wisely shuts his mouth, but he goes on insisting in his thoughts that, although he "understands" our discomfort in this unusual situation, it doesn't change the fact that he is Rey's soulmate.
"Leave," I snap, letting my own anger show.
He stands firm for a moment, loath to leave Rey, but after glancing between the two of us, he accepts that there's no "reasoning" with us in our current mood and takes off, giving Bella a wide birth. As he considers whether to phase or not, he asks me to call when Rey wants more blood.
His thoughts touch on her "need" for him as much as they did before, proving that our complaints haven't made an ounce of difference. Given how long it took him to let Bella go, I can only hope he gets it through his head by the time Rey is old enough to be interested in romance… Not that I know what "old enough" is. However young or old she is, I have no doubt I won't be ready for it, even if she doesn't feel an attraction for Jacob. That thought (or, rather, its converse) makes me shudder, so I do my best to suppress it by focusing on Rey's random dream-thoughts as I follow Bella inside. She fell asleep clutching a lock of Rosalie's hair, and she's currently dreaming about playing in it; the dream-hair is many times longer than its real-life counterpart, and she's having a ball wrapping herself up in the silky-smooth strands.
Perhaps wanting to settle her temper first, Bella doesn't immediately go to our daughter. Instead, she pauses by Rey's orchid, which is now sitting on the coffee table. Even in the diffuse light, its fluorescent petals gleam with streaks of 'mega-violet' for guiding a pollinator to its target. Bella strokes the largest petal, ghosting her fingertips across its sparkling surface. "Everything is so much more beautiful than I ever imagined."
Although Emmett is over his self-conscious for behaving badly earlier, he "atones" for it now by not teasing Bella for caring about flowers right now—because blood and sex should be occupying whatever scant attention Rey hasn't claimed. He wants to tease me, too (that I mustn't be doing it right), but to make amends, he doesn't mock me directly and averts his thoughts from concocting any further taunts. He even tries not to dwell on his smugness (because Bella's interest in flowers "proves" that our passions are so much less than his and Rosalie's).
Esme nods in agreement with Bella; that had been her overriding feeling, too, and still is. She is about to offer a description of her favorite fluorescent creatures (mantis shrimps) when Bella speaks again.
"Have Jasper and Alice been back?"
Emmett lets out a half-repressed snort, just barely catching himself before he laughs loudly enough to wake Renesmee. "It might matter if you stayed away more than ten minutes," he teases, exaggerating the shortness of our excursion. "Rose and I only got back a minute ago!"
Esme tuts. "You got back seven minutes ago," she corrects, to which Emmett rolls his eyes. "Ignore him, Bella," she goes on, "and don't worry about Jasper. He'll come home soon, and I'm sure he'll be much happier."
"I hope so," Bella murmurs, not sounding overly hopeful.
Esme rubs Bella's shoulder reassuringly. "He thought he knew everything there is to know about being a vampire," she says, explaining her confidence, "but you've shown him that the bloodlust isn't as central a part of the vampire psyche as he believed."
Bella smiles a very little, then sighs. Her eyes flit across my face, then Rey's, then the rest of our assembled family, but I can't guess at her thoughts. I can't even tell if Esme's perspective has comforted her, or whether she's thinking about Jasper or herself. Maybe she's thinking about Charlie, or Renée—or all of the above and more. When she looks at Carlisle, I wonder if any of my questions will be answered.
"Edward said you've never felt the typical bloodlust; I was wondering, what effect did tasting human blood have on your thirst?"
"There's no doubt it intensified the physical burn, but I don't think it ever affected my thirst. I learned to handle that long before I changed Edward."
"So you didn't feel any sort of frenzy, even with his blood in your mouth?"
He smiles, impressed by her composure, and takes a moment to consider the question as fully as it deserves. "Yes and no; I expected tasting it would have a greater effect, so I was prepared for that. Dealing with the agony of what I'd become was so much harder—in the beginning, my self-loathing was as strong as the thirst. It wasn't until I spent time with the Volturi, until I saw the bloodlust of an immortal child, that I realized I'd never felt so mindless, so solely driven by thirst. That was the moment I regained my self-respect." He smiles at the memory, though it amuses him now, too, because it pales in significance compared to his latest epiphany. "But thanks to you, Bella, I have found another level of peace altogether. You have single-handedly absolved every moment of doubt and regret I have ever had."
She dips her head, humbled by the praise, and then mumbles, "Edward helped," clearly trying to share credit.
"Yes," Carlisle agrees earnestly. "He has always been a great comfort."
Bella smiles, but it turns into more of a smirk when she looks at me. "Except for those 'rogue' years."
Carlisle laughs softly. "No, indeed, I found comfort in that, too. My son was out there saving lives."
Bella laughs with him, not the least bit surprised by his absolute faith in me. "True."
It's been a long time since I believed unreservedly that taking lives to save lives is a justifiable approach, so I appreciate my family's ongoing understanding and forgiveness. Indeed, I still marvel at the way Carlisle views my 'experiment'—that I was doing something he couldn't—and he had absolute faith that my admirable motivation would never falter.
Emmett, on the other hand, feels no such respect. If Rey weren't asleep, he would've taken this opportunity to tell her everything he could about my "murderous rampage"—and then he thinks of a question even he wouldn't ask in front of her. "Have you asked Edward what it's like to have human blood in your mouth?"
Bella appears unruffled by the question, but I'm not reassured until she quips, "Not since I got pregnant."
He chuckles, pleased that she hadn't let me keep that specific topic entirely off limits, then shakes his head. "He lied." I immediately object, so he adds, "Leaving out the good bits is lying."
"I didn't leave anything out."
He snorts. "The only way that's true is because you're boring."
There's no point arguing with him, so I simply shrug; I've never cared that he labels many of the things I enjoy boring.
Bella chuckles, and I wait expectantly for her comment—maybe that I'm her kind of boring—but she doesn't speak. Instead, she goes over to Rosalie, who passes Rey into her arms without needing to be asked.
Our daughter is still fast asleep, and still dreaming about playing with Rosalie's hair. Bella's lips curve into a sweet smile as she gazes down at Rey's serene face.
When Renesmee drifts into a period of dreamless sleep, Esme eagerly shows us the latest additions to the photo album: Rey in a finely tailored sky-blue jumpsuit playing with wooden blocks in the shape of letters. She looks utterly adorable.
We're discussing the plan for the next set of photos when Rey starts to wake. I move closer to Bella—as close as I dare—so that our daughter will see us both as soon as she opens her eyes.
Renesmee greets us with a joyful giggle and grabs Bella's hand, which was already holding one of hers, in both hands. She gazes up at her mother for several seconds before looking around for everyone else (not that she has to look far; they've already gravitated to her). Her disappointment at Jacob's absence isn't quite as fleeting as I'd like—although it would be more persistent if she didn't think of Seth's blood as an acceptable alternative.
But none of us, Seth included (for once), is game to let Rey drink his blood with Bella around. Rey is mightily unimpressed, but her frustration is so adorable that all of us struggle with keeping a straight face. Her singular preference gives the term fussy eater a whole new meaning as she rejects every proposed foodstuff outright, all the while trying to convince us we're worrying about nothing. It fills me with pride that she never once thinks about her mother leaving so she can get what she wants.
Bella's thoughtfulness makes me wonder if she's considering that option herself; then she suddenly says, "What about the donated blood?"
I'd had one other alternative in mind—squirrel blood (to see if I could goad our daughter into choosing one of the previous options)—before suggesting that myself, so I immediately nod. The others are all extremely apprehensive, though only Rey, Rosalie, and Carlisle openly grimace. Unlike Rey, who is merely objecting to the "boring" substitute, the others think it unnecessarily soon to expose Bella to the forbidden draft; even Seth is well aware that Jasper can't enter the room where the blood is stored, let alone be anywhere near the blood itself.
"It'll be fine," I say, answering both perspectives, but only Renesmee begins to concede the point (perhaps it's time to tell everyone about Bella's run-in with the hikers). "It tastes gross anyway—to our taste buds," I hastily add before Rey can agree too enthusiastically.
She sticks out her tongue, at first to tease, but then she has the idea of comparing our taste buds (via visual inspection), which makes us laugh and breaks the growing tension in the room.
"Drink first?" I bargain, and, once she has agreed, I suggest that Bella accompany me to the fridge.
At first, she hesitates, betraying her nerves, but then she squares her jaw, gives Rey a gentle kiss on the temple, passes her back into Rosalie's eager arms, and gestures for me to lead the way.
The lingering scent of blood taints the air in the room even without opening the fridge, so I give her a moment to measure her reaction—not the least bit surprised that she is apparently breathing no less freely—then unlatch the door and open it slowly, just wide enough for the blood bag to fit through, before immediately closing it.
She wrinkles her nose at the sharper scent emanating from the bag, but otherwise seems calm, so I break the seal while we're still in the room and carefully pour some of the blood into a mug.
Bella takes the tiniest breath—and then makes a face. I'm momentarily startled by the mix of what appears to be surprise and disgust in her expression.
"It doesn't smell very human," she says, explaining her reaction.
As one, the other vampires in the house all gasp, while I find myself laughing. Their shock that Bella knows what human blood smells like is magnified a thousand times by their amazement that she can actually detect a difference.
Rey doesn't understand their reaction, so Seth and Rosalie (the first to recover) explain that her mommy is completely defying the usual newborn madness. She isn't remotely surprised; she knows her mother is special, too.
When we re-enter the room, Rey reaches for me, ignoring the mug of blood for the moment. Everyone else marvels at the impossible newborn standing not two feet away, though Esme and Emmett both flinch when Bella steps closer, holding out a hand for Rey, who takes it eagerly, telling her that she's special—with a distinct undertone that she is special enough to cope with Seth's fresh blood, too.
While Bella gives a little shake of the head, I direct Rey's focus to the mug. "If you think this smells boring, and Mommy thinks this smells boring, don't you think she might like Seth's blood as much as you do?"
Rey wants to say no—because she knows the wolves smell unpleasant to the others—but she also knows that the blood I'm holding makes them thirsty. She concedes the point with a sigh, then starts to drink.
Bella tenses as Rey tastes the blood, but after a few seconds, she starts to breathe again. "Does it smell human to you?" she asks the others, acknowledging their amazement with her typical artlessness.
"Human enough," Esme murmurs.
"Jasper can't stand it," Seth adds, figuring that's the plainest explanation.
Bella cringes and then her expression shifts through a few emotions too quickly for me to catch before settling on what I think best translates to 'confident'. "Drinking blood while I was still human must've helped me adjust to it."
Apart from Seth, who was already thinking along those lines himself, none of us agrees. Carlisle thinks the changes Rey effected to her human body are the likelier cause, while I'm not sure how any of it relates to her initially 'normal' reaction to the hikers' scent. I can't help enjoying the others' shock when I begin describing that terrifying moment, and it makes me realize that I've forgiven myself—because without my mistake, we wouldn't know how strong her self-control already is.
"The thirst scatters my concentration," Bella 'explains', "but doesn't obliterate it. If I focus, I can ignore it." She grins. "Maybe self-control is my superpower!"
The others are intrigued—we certainly know of vampires with such subtle gifts—but I don't think so. Her self-control was already impressive when she was human, so her control now is simply an amplification of that (and now that I think about it, that amplification probably explains her ability to override the bloodlust as soon as she realized her target was human).
I shake my head. "I'm sure Eleazar will find something more unique about you."
"Something that explains my mental muteness?"
Forgoing a joke (because my sense of humor still needs recalibration on this sensitive topic), I simply nod.
Again, only Seth agrees. The others think my judgment is clouded. After all, Eleazar hadn't noticed anything out of the ordinary when he met her at the wedding, and if my inability to hear her thoughts is the result of a special gift, why wasn't its effect enhanced by the transformation? Jasper can still feel her emotions, and Alice can still see her future, so nothing has changed there.
Bella glances at the others, who clearly share her skepticism, then gives me a wry smile. "The only extraordinary thing about me is my self-control."
I can't think of any further arguments that don't emphasize my covetousness of her thoughts—because if she is correct, I'd be sorely tempted to encourage her to lose control—so I murmur, "We'll see," and then change the subject. "How about we go for a swim?"
Rey loves the idea, as does Rosalie, who rushes upstairs to retrieve their swimsuits, returning with Esme's and one for Bella, too. Bella eyes the ordinary-looking one-piece wistfully, like she's picturing the swimsuit I'd destroyed on our honeymoon in its place, but I certainly appreciate this one's high neckline, half-sleeves, and low-cut leg lines.
Emmett and Seth pick a nearby spot along the river that's deep enough for Bella to enjoy the novelty of staying underwater indefinitely. She looks as natural spiraling through the water as she does running through the trees. When she teases me by doing a backward 'flip' around me, I tease her in return by shooting a jet of water in her direction. She laughs and gulps a mouthful of water to make a waterspout of her own. Rey takes to the water equally quickly, and she is able to hold her breath for long enough—longer than Seth—that the others start getting nervous and ask her to resurface.
When Alice and Jasper arrive mid-afternoon, Rey leaps out of the river and springs into Jasper's arms. Alice does a good job of commandeering her attention next, while Jasper apologizes to Bella and assures her (with more certainty than he really feels) that he has not only come to terms with his struggles, but also has more hope than ever of overcoming them.
Despite her suspicions, Bella's concern and guilt ease. He smiles, and she gives him a grin. "How's your dog paddle?" she says, tipping her head toward the river.
He laughs and waggles an eyebrow at Rey, who throws her hands up in encouragement, so he whips off his shirt, rocks back on one foot, launches himself ten feet in the air, twists through three and a half corkscrews, and enters the water with barely a splash. Alice and Rey cheer, and then Rey directs Alice to throw her up into the air. After glancing at me, Alice complies, and our little prodigy copies Jasper's dive with exquisite precision.
With our whole family together at last, everything is perfect, and I find myself pausing frequently to soak up their joy.
Despite the extra physical activity—or maybe even because of it; none of us knows how her physiology works—Rey stays awake long into the night. The moment after her eyes fall shut, Bella snatches my hand and speeds me across the river so fast, I can't even catch my breath to laugh.
As has become our custom, we make love before hunting. Though Bella must be thirstier than she's ever felt, she is no more hurried or less attentive to my pleasure. Indeed, she rocks her hips slowly as she kisses and licks my neck like I'm her favorite treat, and only shifts focus after bringing us to the heights of pleasure twice.
I've hunted so frequently now that our skin is almost the same hue, but I was still planning to catch my own prey—until I realize the herd we've selected belongs to the rarest species in these parts. If Bella weren't so rational, I wouldn't dare ask her to stop, but she is, and she breaks off the hunt without seeming to feel any frustration. She even smiles when I explain my reason for sparing these particular creatures.
While searching for another herd, I suddenly pick out a different heartbeat nearby—there's a lion stalking our erstwhile prey. "Mountain lion, two o'clock."
Bella's eyes snap to the northeast. She listens for a split second, then nods and gestures for me to follow her.
Thanks to our swift but careful approach, the lion doesn't notice us until we're ten feet away. Bella sucks in a quick breath and her whole body tenses as the lion's strong scent ignites the burn in her throat. (Interestingly, the formerly appealing scent has no effect on me, confirming that no blood appeals to me in that way now.)
"Happy hunting," I murmur, trying to turn it into a sport; I don't know whether to hope she enjoys this blood or not. If it feels like indulging the blood-crazed monster, will she feel worse afterward?
She shivers in anticipation, eyes fixed on the doomed beast as it flattens its ears back and hisses fiercely; then it tries to flee, sprinting a few yards across the ground before launching itself into a tree. This escape path is clearly pre-planned, because the animal doesn't hesitate as it leaps from one branch to the next before galloping along a thicker branch and into the neighboring tree, where it repeats a similar pattern.
With one swift step, Bella leaps toward the second tree, boosting herself onto a branch just below the lion, some 30 feet off the ground, and then swinging up onto its branch.
The lion lashes out in desperation at its far swifter foe. I wince instinctively, even as she veers out of the way—implying she is still fully in control, because the monster wouldn't recoil—but she doesn't avoid its next swipe as she lunges in turn. Its claws rake harmlessly across her granite skin, though they score the swimsuit, leaving three long gashes down the front.
It takes Bella less than three seconds to find her hold and snap through its spine. The beast's weight collapses onto her, its limbs going limp, and she drags its carotid artery up to her mouth and drinks greedily, draining the cat in seconds.
Not bothering to climb down the tree, she simply steps off the branch, carrying the furry body with her, and lands with a seemingly deliberate thud by my side. There is no lingering bloodlust in her eyes. She is truly incredible.
"Wow," I murmur in a pitiful attempt to express my admiration.
She laughs. "I'm sure I could've been more efficient."
"You couldn't have done it better—the first time I killed a lion wasn't nearly so neat."
"I didn't want it to suffer."
"You're incredible," I murmur. "That you can even think about its welfare—about anything—while you're hunting…" I don't bother to finish the point; no words can express how amazing she is.
She grins, enjoying my praise. "Lion is definitely an improvement on deer."
"More fun to catch, too?" I suggest, my eyes straying to the tattered swimsuit.
"Perhaps," she allows, "but I'd rather get my fun elsewhere—" and then she grabs my hand, sending a thrill through me, and pulls me toward the tree trunk.
It's clear she wants to climb, and I follow willingly, enjoying the suspense. Three quarters of the way up, she steps onto a flat branch and then leans back against the trunk, pulling me against her. "Make love to me," she requests—entirely unnecessarily—as she shreds my shirt so much more effectively than the lion had shredded her swimsuit.
At this height, our passions seem equally heightened. I feel simultaneously more separate and more entwined with the life force of the forest. Up here, the eternal is tangible.
And yet, our lovemaking feels all too brief when Bella eventually calls time on it. I try not to burden her with my unsated desire as we vacate the tree, and sharing the task of stripping the lion's hide helps me realign my priorities.
We both take advantage of Alice's clothing cache at the tanning barrels. As usual, Bella completes the task of dressing herself much faster than I—but as the gauzy fabric envelops her body, the effect it has on me is instantaneous. It is worse than seeing her naked, because I'd expected her to be more covered up; instead, the wispy, semi-translucent material is inconceivably revealing. She looks like a fairy princess—a mind-blowingly sexy fairy princess.
Even knowing it was Alice's intent—and that she'll be exceedingly smug about it—I can't control the need to pull Bella into my arms and ravish her anew. She laughs as I rip the dress apart from both ends at once, obligingly surrendering to my passion.
Because of our extended 'fun', Rey is awake when we get home; I feel guilty for a moment, but Rey's cheeriness eases the feeling, and Emmett's thoughts provide a distracting amount of irritation as he teases me for having been away "marginally" longer than normal, while teasing Bella for wearing a shirt and trousers meant for me.
"What'd ya hunt this time?" he asks Bella nonchalantly, hoping for something he can twist into a story about how boring we are.
"Mountain lion," she replies equally smoothly.
Perfect!, he crows, laughing. "Finally did something interesting, eh?"
"If that's what you call interesting," she retorts, her tone conveying the perfect blend of disinterest and disdain to derail Emmett's teasing.
Her self-assured, unshakeable confidence is wonderful. Jasper is still utterly baffled that she has found herself so quickly—he's blinded by his long experience with newborns—but for the rest of us, there's no mistaking it: she really is a natural-born vampire.