A/N: Twilight is the property of Stephanie Meyers. Anya Simms is all mine.

Chapter 33: The Mark

Edward's POV

Early hours of Sat March 5/05

I returned late, slipping into our home after another night of my usual vigil at Bella's bedside. I try to maintain my calm, but it is hard to be around Bella, my singer. The call of her is too much at times. It's only been three days since I stood in front of Bella, baring the truth of what I am, struggling against the tidal wave of desire and terror she stirred within me. Three days since I let myself believe, just for a moment, that perhaps there could be a future where I didn't have to watch her from a distance, hidden away in the shadows. I walked through the garage, catching sight of my Volvo, freshly washed and gleaming under the lights. Nice, Jasper washed it after his joyride.

But then, I paused, something unsettling catching my attention.

My nostrils flared slightly as I detected a scent that shouldn't have been there—a scent that, despite the car's recent wash, clung to the interior and exterior of my car. It was faint, but unmistakable: the scent of Anya's arousal. No – her release.

Opening the car door, I slid into the driver's seat, feeling my frustration flare as the scent hit me, more pungent than before. It was deliberate, everywhere. What? Who does this? This wasn't just some spur-of-the-moment prank or a careless act. It was intentional. I muttered under my breath, "Jasper… him and his reckless human."

For a moment, I just sat there, fingers drumming against the steering wheel, anger simmering. I'd tolerated plenty from Jasper since he'd joined our family—the mood swings, the constant need to survey his thoughts in case he slipped, even his sudden relationship with Anya. That relationship was another issue altogether, one I'd struggled to wrap my mind around. Anya, a woman from a world where our lives were nothing but words on a page, fiction. I'd tolerated her existence, the way she seemed to slip through the cracks in our carefully constructed reality, but this? This was personal.

I leaned forward, letting my senses hone in on her lingering scent. It didn't matter how much soap and water had been used; it was embedded in the fabric now, a constant reminder of their little escapade. And the audacity of it—the sheer boldness—was almost more than I could stand.

My jaw clenched, teeth grinding together as I replayed it in my head, imagining them parked off the side of a deserted road, the two of them tangled together, Anya finding release. And Jasper, of all people, letting it happen. No, encouraging it, more like. And yet, as much as I wanted to be furious, there was a small, grudging part of me that almost—almost—respected the nerve it took for her to do this. Anya was nothing if not audacious, and she had made her presence known in a way that no human ever had. It wasn't just that her mind was closed to me, though that fact alone was maddening; it was that she didn't seem to care about the rules or the boundaries the rest of us lived by.

I exhaled sharply, running a hand through my hair, trying to push down the surge of frustration threatening to overwhelm me. I wasn't looking forward to confronting Jasper about this. He never took kindly to anything I had to say, especially when it concerned Anya. It was always the same: a dismissive smirk, the subtle tightening of his jaw, as if he was waiting for the moment when I'd cross that invisible line he'd drawn around himself. And now, after today's events, I wasn't even sure I had the right to say anything at all.

The memory of Alice's vision flickered through my mind: Jasper in a kitchen, leaning over Anya, his lips brushing her skin, her pulse thrumming beneath him. Panic had risen in my throat then, a tidal wave of terror and rage, convinced I was about to witness him lose control, to throw away everything for a fleeting taste of her blood. But I'd been wrong. Horribly, embarrassingly wrong. They weren't teetering on the edge of disaster. They were kissing. Just kissing. French kissing.

The embarrassment was still fresh, stinging in my chest, as if it had branded itself there. And Jasper—he hadn't hesitated to throw it back in my face, mocking my mistake, his voice dripping with that Southern drawl he always used when making a point. He reminded me, in no uncertain terms, how my moment with Bella in the woods—the one I'd agonized over, the one that had felt monumental, life-altering—was nothing more than a joke to Anya. In her world, that scene was met with ridicule, reduced to the butt of drunken jokes among adults who could barely get through it without rolling their eyes or reaching for another drink.

It stung. More than I cared to admit. To know that something so pivotal, so consuming for me, was seen as nothing more than melodrama in Anya's reality. And maybe that was why this—her scent in my car, her defiance, her audacity—struck such a nerve. She wasn't just disregarding the rules of our world; she was laughing at them. Laughing at me.

Damn it. That woman's scent would linger for days.

"Reckless human," I muttered under my breath, getting out of the car and heading toward the house. I needed to find Jasper, to address this before it became another wedge between us. And I needed to remind myself—despite the temptation—that Anya was not the enemy here.

Still, I would continue to keep a close eye on her. She knew too much. I paused, though, just for a moment, inhaling her scent once more. It was so… Anya.

JPOV

I lounged back on the couch, immersed in a heated game of Mortal Kombat on the PS2, fingers moving with ease over the controller, the familiar combos flowing like second nature as Emmett's character took another brutal hit. "C'mon, Jazz, give a guy a break," he groaned, clearly not enjoying the thrashing he was getting.

"Not my fault you keep falling for the same combo," I replied, letting the sarcasm slip through. The truth was, my mind wasn't entirely on the game. It was still with Anya—how she'd looked, lips swollen from my kisses, my hand up her dress, the way her fingers had tangled in my hair as we leaned against Eddie's precious Volvo. It fucking blew my mind how she trusted me, and that emotional cocktail of hers! All joy, contentment and lust. Damn it was hard not to want to keep kissing her!

Emmett grumbled something about unfair advantages, but I barely heard him, still replaying the way Anya's breath had hitched when I'd kissed her neck, her pulse quickening under my lips. Hell, if I closed my eyes, I could almost smell her lingering perfume mixed with the scent of leather from that damn car. The image was clear as day, and it was damn near impossible to wipe the stupid grin off my face.

But then, there it was—a shift, like a ripple in the air. I didn't need to look up to know Edward had walked in. His frustration hit me first, like a slap across the back of the head, followed by irritation and… yeah, there was something else there, simmering just beneath the surface, something he didn't want to admit even to himself. Typical broody Heathcliff.

"Well, if it isn't the brooding one himself," Emmett quipped, barely glancing up from the screen. "Where've you been, Romeo?"

Edward didn't respond right away, which immediately set off alarm bells in my mind. I could feel the intensity of his emotions ramping up as he stepped further into the room. And that's when I realized—I hadn't bothered to change my clothes since dropping Anya off. Or washed my hands. Or even removed her panties from my jeans pocket. Her scent still clung to me, unmistakable and strong, layered with the faint trace of arousal that hadn't quite faded. Fuck was it intoxicating!

"Jasper," Edward finally said, his voice tightly controlled but with that familiar edge. The one he always got when things didn't go according to his plan. "We need to talk."

Emmett paused the game, finally catching on that something was up. He shot me a questioning look, but I just shrugged, keeping my expression neutral as I set the controller down. "Sure, Edward. What's on your mind?"

Edward didn't answer right away, his gaze flickering over me as if weighing every single thing I wasn't saying. The smell had hit him the moment he walked in; I could see him piecing together exactly what had gone down tonight. If he could grind his teeth any harder, I think they'd crack. But really, could he picture what exactly happened? Does he have the imagination for that?

"I see you've had an eventful evening," Edward said, tone deceptively calm, arms crossed over his chest like he was trying to keep himself from lashing out.

"Something like that," I replied, lounging back on the couch. I wasn't about to give him the satisfaction of rising to the bait. Besides, watching him try to keep it together was far too entertaining.

"Jasper, I don't know what game you and Anya think you're playing, but this—" He waved a hand through the air, as if trying to dispel the scent lingering around us. "This needs to stop."

I raised an eyebrow, letting the hint of a smirk tug at my lips. "And what exactly do you think we were playing at, Edward?" Are you thinking hand holding or can you mind grasp the concept of pleasing a woman?

His frustration sharpened, evident in the way his jaw tightened, the muscle twitching as he tried to keep his voice steady. "You know exactly what I mean. Whatever… prank you thought you were pulling, it's disrespectful."

Oh, I wouldn't call it a prank, we both thoroughly enjoyed it.

Emmett, always ready for drama, glanced between us, clearly entertained but a little wary. "Wait, what did I miss? Did you two do something to Edward's precious Volvo?"

I couldn't help the chuckle that slipped out. "Let's just say Anya had a little fun, and I was more than happy to go along for the ride." Like when she rode my fingers. Twice.

Edward's eyes narrowed even further, and I felt the irritation rolling off him in waves, almost tangible. "This isn't a joke, Jasper. You know what her scent—what that—implies."

"Of course, I do," I replied smoothly, holding his gaze without so much as a flinch. "And so do you. But let's get one thing straight, Edward—it's her mark, not mine. She's choosing to make her presence known, and I'm not about to stop her from being who she is."

Emmett's eyes widened, and then that slow, knowing grin spread across his face. "Wait—did you two seriously mark his car? Damn, Jazz man, that's cold."

"Cold?" I echoed, tilting my head as if genuinely considering it. "Maybe. But undeniably effective." It was actually fucking hot. I wonder how Eddie boy would react if I casually removed her panties from my pocket?

Edward's frustration spiked, his control slipping for a fraction of a second. I could feel the urge radiating from him, the need to lash out, to reclaim some semblance of order in his carefully controlled world. But he held back, barely, and the restraint cost him.

Do I calm him or let it play out? Decisions, decisions.

"Jasper, I'm serious," Edward said, his voice dropping to that low, warning tone he thought made people listen. "You're playing with fire. Anya doesn't fully understand what she's getting into, and you—"

"She understands more than you think," I cut in, letting my tone harden just enough to make him flinch. "And don't forget, Edward—she's not your concern." I let the words hang in the air, savouring their impact. Or did you forget that she read the damn books? She knows exactly what we are. I tried to keep that thought buried, but judging by the flicker in his expression, the faint tightening of his jaw, it was clear he might've caught it.

Edward stood there, glaring, while I leaned back against the couch, interlocking my fingers behind my head, making a point to stay relaxed. I kept my eyes locked on his, unyielding. Emmett wasn't sure where to look, but I could feel his amusement rolling off him in waves. Eventually, Eddie boy broke eye contact, exhaling slowly. The anger in his eyes dimmed as he forced himself to take a step back. "Just… be careful, Jasper. This isn't a game."

I shrugged, the tension between us easing by a fraction. "I know it's not. But this is my life, and Anya's a part of it now. You need to accept that."

Edward didn't respond. He just gave me one last, searching look before turning and walking out of the room.

Emmett let out a low whistle, shaking his head. "Man, you really are a little shit disturber, aren't you?"

I couldn't help but grin as I thought back on my time with Anya. Sure, we were on Edward's hood, and yes, she was aroused, but we kept it PG. Well, maybe R when I think about how she shuddered around my fingers twice, but definitely not beyond that. Anya knew that if we ever decided to take things further, it wouldn't be on the hood of a car. Or even against a car.

Turning to Emmett, I shrugged nonchalantly. "What? It's not like Edward's ever going to deign to make out with his girlfriend in a car—something a 17-year-old girl is going to expect."

Emmett burst out laughing, shaking his head in disbelief. "You've got a point there. Edward's more likely to recite poetry or brood in a meadow than actually give Bella the full teenage experience."

"Exactly," I said, settling back into my seat. "He's too caught up in playing the tortured soul to realize what she really wants."

"Which is probably why you and Anya had a little fun with his precious Volvo," Emmett added, still grinning.

"Let's just say it was a learning experience for him," I replied with a smirk. "A reminder that not everyone's going to play by his rules." And one for me too, Anya is a hell of a woman.

Emmett chuckled, clearly enjoying the whole situation. "Well, I can't wait to see what happens when he finally talks to Bella about it."

A/N: Edward made a guest appearance! What did you think?