Hello, lovelies :)!
I've missed you all so much, I am truly happy to be back with a new chapter.
August was such a difficult time for me (starting with the cancelled Eras Tour concert in Vienna as a result of the terrorist threats and continuing with several unfortunate situations throughout the month), so returning here feels good. Truth be told, with August being such a pain in the ass, I didn't get to write as much as I wanted to. So while September will be a month of weekly updates, October might be a little different.
Huge thanks to my dear CoppertopJ for being the amazing beta that she is!
And thank you all—for reading, for reviewing, for having patience. Sending my love your way!
Now let's see what happened after Edward and Bella crossed some serious limits last chapter, shall we?
By the time I finally returned to the house, Forks had once again fallen prey to the night.
My eyes were an acceptable shade of gold at long last—thanks to one of the many pairs of contact lenses I had found in Port Angeles. I spent the better part of my day fending off my demons, although I found out soon enough that I wasn't any good at it. In my own masochistic way, I couldn't stop thinking about the events of the previous night and how they changed everything.
I still couldn't come to terms with how I came to cross the one uncrossable line I had always strayed away from. Letting my guard down in front of Bella led to the worst consequence. Worse than touching her, worse than kissing her, worse than loving her. My mind and tongue still smouldered at the memory of the debauchery. But there was still a sane enough part of my brain that was wrestling with the reality of having hurt Bella.
God, my one true mission in this world had always been to keep her safe—from the various dangers of the world, from monsters, from damnation, from myself.
And I failed.
I desecrated her body in the most perverse way, without giving her a choice. And while her arousal at the time blurred the lines long enough to trick her into believing she wanted the violation, I knew better than to trust that she didn't mind my monstrous attack—her tears alone were proof of that. If only I had been able to read her mind then… even if it would have crushed me.
Her thoughts had probably been a jumbled mess of fear—the fear that, at the end of the day, I really was as dangerous and wicked as I had always warned her I would be.
But also the fear that she had nowhere to escape. Her fragile form meant that she would always be vulnerable in front of me, but last night she proved to be at the very peak of defenselessness: alone with me in a dark forest where each step required guidance, most of her body unvarnished by useless pieces of clothing, and captivated by the guiltiest physical pleasure. A deer in headlights would have had a much better shot of surviving than she had.
It was borderline grotesque to think of Bella like that, sure, but after essentially treating her like my meal, was it my biggest crime?
Still, my problems did not stop there—oh, how I wish they did!
There was something more worrying brewing under the surface level of my angst. Beyond the crushing acknowledgement of my fallacy lay something different: the realization that I got a second type of thrill from the transgression of tasting Bella's blood. It didn't just nurture my thirst. It also fed the flame of my desire in a new, treacherous way, expanding its reach. It was lunacy to admit this—even if I was only admitting it to myself—but having Bella's blood on my tongue aroused me terribly.
I wasn't sure when exactly the overlap between hungers happened—in a way, they started their weaving journey of interconnection long ago, around the same time when I realized that the closer I got to Bella, the harder to bear my thirst became. And the more difficult it was to combat the impulse to drain her, the more frustrated I got with the fact that I couldn't ever get close enough. So I was never truly sated—not when each hunger fed the other in a vicious cycle.
What I was sure of, however, was the fact that now there was no going back after this. There was no way we could pretend that I hadn't gone completely and unforgivably overboard. I couldn't even imagine facing Bella again—how could I, when I could still vividly picture her wearing nothing but my venom and the flimsiest nightgown? When I was still so ashamed of myself?
When I secretly yearned to go astray again?
All of my questions remained unanswered. Throughout the day, Bella tried to get in touch with me again, sending me a string of texts.
'Hey! How was the rest of your night?'
'Are you feeling better?'
'I'm really sorry for upsetting you last night.'
'Edward?'
'I'm worried about you. Just tell me if you're okay.'
'I'd like to see you. And talk to you. Please?'
Not knowing how to proceed, I let Bella know through a single pathetic text that I needed some time for myself and that it would be best if we didn't talk for a while. She seemed to accept my rudeness rather gracefully, as she chose to respond to my request with radio silence.
Darkness danced in the summer air and in my heart when I returned home to face my mother's questions. She tried to downplay it, but I already knew she had talked to Alice over the phone—and either my sister had missed my egregious actions last night, or she chose to keep quiet about them in front of Esme.
Although I was willing to bet that if Alice knew, she would have certainly pestered me with her inquiries.
"You've been gone longer than usual," Esme offered. "Is everything all right?"
"Yes," I lied. "I just needed some time off."
"Any reason in particular?"
"No." More lies—I was surviving on them. "Sometimes I like to be alone, that is all."
"So you are telling me this is not about Bella."
I swallowed the knot in my chest. "Essentially."
"You know you can talk to me, right?
"Of course."
But I didn't talk to her—not that night, and not the following days and nights either. To be honest, talking to anyone who wasn't Bella seemed useless and like a waste of time. She was the only one whose words and thoughts I hungered for. But alas, that ship had sailed.
Eventually, Bella tried to contact me again, three days after I let her know that it would be best if we stopped talking for a while. And I responded, albeit in a laconic manner, gently letting her down once more. The thought of resuming our conversations—let alone our nightly habits—seemed almost impossible. Hell, I couldn't even dare to watch her at night at this point, such was the intensity of my guilt.
Flying too close to the sun most definitely had consequences. And as it turned out, I was not prepared to face them.
Alice no longer tried to intervene—maybe even she had her limits when it came to badgering me into being sane. Or maybe she knew something that I didn't, because lately she seemed less inclined to step in, for one reason or another—even when Esme wanted her to. I didn't mind it, but I could see how it drove Esme crazy, as she tried to make sense of the chaos that my life had become. She wanted to help me, but she was at a loss about where to begin, when every attempt at a deeper discussion was stopped in the tracks by me.
I knew I was blameworthy, but I also couldn't help it. I was biding my time, praying to find the courage to keep my promise and actually leave. However, I knew I was not one bit ready. I could not imagine the final moment that Bella and I would eventually share. What would I tell her? What would she tell me? Would we share an embrace, at the very least? Having her in my arms, for even a fleeting second, would turn my world to ruins, but the pain would be more than worth it.
The pain of kissing her just once—the last time ever, for good—would also be sublime, no doubt.
The more I thought about it, the more conflicted I became.
It was a cloudy Saturday afternoon and more than five agonizing days without Bella had passed when a new sound slid through the familiar chorus of forest noise and Esme's thoughts. A low, mechanical rumble, that was new and uncharacteristic. My mother was painting an abstract landscape when the sound started getting more noticeable.
"Are we expecting guests?"
I looked up from the book I was reading—Dark Harvest, a book that I had only bought after finding out that Bella liked it ironically—and listened intently, trying to distinguish a line of thought among the noise, with no success.
"Not exactly," I answered, perplexed by this fluctuation of an otherwise silent place.
The rumble was nearer, stronger, and easier to recognize. It was clearly coming from a motorcycle—an old, but reliable model, if I had to guess. And it was definitely close enough now for me to be able to pick out the mental chatter of whoever was getting close. And yet, there was nothing for me to hear.
That was when it hit me.
"Oh, no," I grumbled, jumping up from the couch. "No, no, no…"
Esme understood the source of my panic quickly, despite the fact that she had no clues other than my dramatic reaction to go by.
"Is that…?"
"Yes," I confirmed, because we both knew where that question was leading. "I… I may need some privacy."
She hesitated, maternal concern spread all over her features. As much as she wanted to respect my wish, she also wanted to stay—to reassure me that I was not alone, at the end of the day. But also to understand what was actually going on between me and Bella, beyond what I had been telling her.
"It's fine," I said, trying to ease her mind. "The two of us just need to talk. Alone."
"Of course. But you're worrying me. And I miss her so much, you know?"
"I know, but now's not a good time for any of that. I'm sorry."
My mother sighed, still at a crossroads. I wanted to thank her for being so caring, while also letting her know that it was a fruitless pursuit. There wasn't some grand divine plan that could ever make it possible for me and Bella to be together again—besides, she was already spoken for.
"I'm doing this because I love you." Just as that thought reached me, I could see that the decision had already been made; she was already thinking of the nearest pond she could run to—just far enough away to be unable to hear conversations in this house clearly. "But please, stop trying to push me away. We're not enemies, son."
I nodded, feeling another piece of my heart breaking and dangling from its place.
Esme was gone when the sound of the motorcycle finally stopped in front of the house. I stepped outside, scared to embrace what was coming next.
Bella had already got off the bike and she was currently taking her helmet off, struggling to untangle the mess made by her hair and the clasp. It didn't help that some strands seemed to be caught under the straps of the backpack she was carrying. She managed to set her hair free eventually, right as I was approaching her.
"You seriously shouldn't be on this thing," I commented.
"My ankle is healed, you know? It's been a month, not to mention that I've missed riding my motorcycle."
She shrugged, her eyes meeting mine. I noticed the dark circles underneath immediately—had she not been sleeping well since I last saw her? I felt at fault, knowing how our last interaction ended with me essentially bailing on her at a truly inopportune moment. I remembered her tears and pleas—how desperate they sounded, how difficult it was to turn my back and walk away that night. I also remembered how intense the red hue around my irises was, immediately after committing the deed. It was much better now, although not completely, as I was still wearing contacts to mask the truth from my mother.
But the contacts couldn't erase the past—nor the way that Bella's scent was still captivating me in the most extreme of ways, taunting me with the reminder that it tasted even better than it smelled. As I silently doted on her fragrance, I could not stop certain violent hordes of images from entering my head. Images of her naked in the grass… panting… ready… wet… and clothed only by my venom.
Images of me fucking her in that state. Hard and relentless.
"You also shouldn't be here," I added, still halfway lost in my fantasy.
"I know. But… July is coming to an end. And you said you'll probably be finished with the house by then." Bella eyed the intact building behind me, her brows furrowing. "Even if it doesn't look like it." She seemed to contemplate over something—maybe she was about to call me out on yet another lie; but just as quickly, she went on, erasing my brief worry. "But that's not the point right now. The point is… I miss you. I miss talking to you. I miss… spending time with you." She blushed and started fidgeting with the hem of her T-shirt as she admitted that. My body responded in obscene ways. "And it's not fair that you never gave me a choice when you decided we should just stop being friends."
"Bella," I started, a little unsure of what I actually wanted to say. It felt like nothing was good enough. No words could capture the magnitude of the war raging inside me. "We are friends. So it's not that I don't want to spend my time with you, because I do. Very much, to be honest. But I feel like I'm the worst friend you can possibly have."
"I happen to think you are the best friend I have. The best friend I've ever had, for what it's worth."
I laughed grimly at her questionable assessment of friendships.
Bella shook her head, not a hint of amusement on her face, and continued. "And since we're being friends on borrowed time, I'd like to make the most of it while I still can."
"What do you mean?"
"I mean… Jacob is out of town. He left yesterday, 'cause he's got two clients in Seattle and wanted to save the money he would have spent on gas if he were to make two roundtrips there. He won't be back home until next Friday."
She stared at the house behind me again, curiosity swimming in her eyes, then back at me, waiting. Both of us knew what she was asking, even if she had not formulated any question in particular. And maybe if these circumstances had come about one week earlier, I would have seen the obvious blessing in them. I would have spent as much time with Bella as she desired—every morning, every evening, every night would have been ours, as long as she wanted me there. We could have talked for hours with no interruption. We also could have coerced several orgasms out of each other—taking our sweet time too, as there would have been no reason to hurry.
But the rift caused by my revolting nature—a rift that I allowed to happen—was too great. How could I trust myself around her now? How could she trust me enough to seek my company again?
"This is a bad idea," I told her.
"God, Edward, must everything be all gloom and doom with you?"
"Considering recent events? Yes. Yes, it must."
Bella rolled her eyes, shifting her weight from one foot to the other, as if she was getting impatient.
"Can you make an exception today, at the very least?"
I wanted to make all the exceptions for her, but I had to be wiser than that. "Why today?" I queried, treading carefully.
"Because… I was feeling like going for a hike." She pulled on the straps of her backpack. "Maybe all the way to our meadow."
I tried to not appear too shocked—to appear calm and not at all fazed by the fact that I had essentially been blindsided.
But it was admittedly challenging to act as if a certain part of my ice-cold heart had not just melted upon hearing Bella utter two simple words.
Our meadow.
The one place that remained locked in my mind as an oasis of tranquility and love. So many happy memories tied me to that place—most of them memories that I had learned to suppress, since holding on to them couldn't bring anything good. And to hear Bella refer to it as ours still…
What sublime torture that was.
"I haven't been there in so long," I admitted, tasting defeat on my tongue.
"That makes two of us, so maybe a change of pace is in order."
She smiled and I couldn't resist, I had to return it. The invitation was too good to be true, yet here it was—right in front of me, just waiting for me to grab it. Could I do this, without screwing things up? Could I be alone with Bella, so far away from civilization, and find it in me to do the right thing?
My internal clash of wills must have been apparent, because she spoke again—softer this time, real hope seeping into her voice. "Please, don't overthink it too much. All these days spent apart were so hard to endure. Can't we have this one day to just… hang out?"
She made it sound so simple—as if we could hang out without it meaning the world to me. I wanted things to be simpler, so that saying yes to Bella wouldn't be such a dangerous game of what if. If I hadn't allowed the barriers between us to bend and crack, my dilemma would not have existed at all.
Ah, I really shouldn't do this…
But Bella's eyes were filled with such endearing anticipation and her heart was beating so fast and I loved her all the more for not being afraid of me, even after what I had done, and fuck—how could I ever say no?
"I even brought a blanket," she added with a dim smirk, pointing a finger towards her backpack.
"Of course you did," I smiled back.
I knew that there was no point in continuing to fight what we both wanted. I wasn't strong enough to win anyway, since I didn't even want the prize of keeping away from Bella.
Pulling my gaze away from her, I glanced at the Harley behind her, remembering that she rode it here all alone. The thought of letting her be in charge of a death machine—when I was here and perfectly capable of making sure that she remained safe—was ridiculous.
"I have one condition," I said.
"Anything."
"You ride in the back. If you care about my peace of mind."
There was a short, evanescent moment when she almost protested. But it faded too quickly, making me wonder if I had imagined it, because immediately after she agreed. So we didn't lose time—no, any additional second spent thinking might have got me to realize how stupidly reckless I was being.
We hopped on the motorcycle as soon as Bella had her helmet back on. I propped myself in front, getting accustomed to the fine details of the hand grips and loving how they were still mildly warm from the way she held onto them on her way to my house. But then, an impossibly more pleasant feeling trickled through my limbs, once I felt Bella's heat right behind me, where she positioned herself in the backseat.
With a swift motion, I started the engine.
"Hold on to me," I told her, speaking loud enough so that she could hear my voice over the purr of the motor. She didn't hesitate. Her arms circled around my waist, pressing her mellow form against my back, and I thought I died a second death right there—only this time I didn't end up in some bizarre limbo of immortality, but in actual heaven. Her embrace was precisely that to me—pure, unbreakable heaven. I smiled to myself, while I registered the fact that this was the first instance of her touching me in a way that wasn't accidental, or temporary. This was a purposeful touch—something we hadn't shared after I broke up with her.
"Like this?" Bella checked.
"Yes. And don't let go."
"Don't worry. I won't."
And while we took off, I wanted those words to be true. I wanted more than anything for Bella to not let go.
Not now, nor ever.
The clouds were starting to scatter by the time we reached the end of the paved road. Their thickness was slowly dissolving, giving way to an impatient post-meridiem sun. For some strange reason, I was grateful for the fact that we were still protected by shadows. It wasn't like Bella would be surprised if she saw me under direct sunlight again—she had seen me so many times in the past—but it had been too long since it last happened. What if her old fascination would turn to repulsion this time?
Almost instinctively, I sunk myself deeper into the tentacle of shadow when Bella was finally done with the multiple locks on her motorcycle.
"So tell me," I began, "do you want the easy way out? Or are you up for some actual hiking?"
It was selfish of me to even ask her that. But I had to, because I was already missing the feeling of her soft body pressing itself against my back. Besides, she had always been partial to the idea of being carried by me while I ran; well, at least after she got over the initial dizziness.
My hope collapsed on itself faster than a dying star when Bella answered. "I'm up for hiking."
I nodded in agreement, hiding my disappointment, then proceeded to offer to carry her backpack. She accepted and, as she was handing it to me, I noticed that her T-shirt had fallen off her shoulder, revealing the black strap of the bra she was wearing—and along with it, the attractive contrast between the frantic blue veins and her pallid skin. That single glimpse caused a wave of repressed memories to crash at the very edge of my conscience.
Not one of those memories was bearable, but one in particular was more aggravating than the rest. In the back of my mind, the image was as clear as if I had seen it seconds ago: Bella, with her eyes drunk with desire, her breasts bare and my cum dripping over her nipples in torpid rivers.
I tried to tune the torment out, but the physical reminders of it were undeniable, as my throat ached with liquid pain and my cock twinged in anticipation of something impossible.
"Well, you lead the way," Bella said, gesturing vaguely with her hands.
I stepped forward, towards the curtain of leaves guarding the forest. Pushing the dense foliage away, I motioned her to follow me into the green shelter of the trees. It didn't matter that I hadn't been here in almost two years, because I knew the pathway like the back of my hand. The vegetation had expanded, overwhelming the place with its potency, but otherwise things were still the same—save for the older, slightly bulkier trees.
Bella studied everything with wide eyes. In return, I studied her.
Nothing about her attitude suggested that she felt uneasy. She appeared… curious, if anything. Her expression was even a little wistful, as if she was having a good dream and she wasn't ready to wake up just yet. To me, it was equal parts endearing and frightening that she willingly chose to be alone with me one more time—and that, by some peculiar happenstance, she actually enjoyed it.
We moved forward, once she seemed ready to do so.
In many ways, our hike felt like a hallucination. It was yet another thing that I knew I didn't deserve. Yet another thing that I was taking anyway. I wasn't sure what the consequences of my imprudent ways would be this time—beyond getting to listen to my mother's well-meaning advice once I would have to face her again and find a sensible explanation for why I disappeared; I had sent her a short text to let her know she should not be expecting me home anytime soon, but no other details. I had no idea if she even texted me back—I had already turned off my phone completely before she had the chance to do it.
As Bella and I made our way through the green chambers of the forest, I could faintly pretend that the hands of time had turned back and she was mine again. When we encountered uneven portions of terrain, she stared at me with imploring eyes and I knew what to do without her asking—I picked her up in my willing arms and helped her cross them. And when stray streams of water got in our way, my hands were already on her waist, lifting her from the ground, so that she didn't have to get her sneakers wet. These were all touches born out of necessity, of course, but that didn't mean I was treasuring them any less.
Besides, the meaning of each touch was doubled when Bella made me linger. When she was resting her head on my shoulder during a brief passing of a rivulet, how was I to let her go? When she was gripping my shirt in her small fists during the simplest of jumps, how could I not grip her closer in return?
It was understandably impossible.
So I drew out these moments, refusing to hurry, keeping my hands on her body longer than needed, relishing the feeling of her warm softness under my cold hardness. And I tried—oh, how I tried—to not think too deeply about how these touches that made me feel so guilty, but also undeniably happy, were practically innocent when I compared them to what I did to Bella the last time we saw each other.
But the feeling of her fingertips on my tongue was still fresh, just like the memory of tasting the ambrosiac blend of her blood and liquid arousal.
We didn't talk much, which was certainly out of the ordinary for us. But the silence wasn't uncomfortable—at least not in the usual, awkward, mundane way that could kill the connection between two people when they realized there was nothing left for them to discuss. On the contrary, it was a heavy silence, one that was filled with everything we didn't dare to say out loud. The air itself was charged with invisible electricity, as if the burden of the unsaid was too much. The molecules of nitrogen and oxygen were sizzling in my lungs, ready to trigger a lightning storm at any moment.
I kept wondering how Bella was handling everything, since the only clues I had were her human bearings: the fast, staccato dance of her heart, the jagged breaths, the tinted cheeks. But as usual, I was second-guessing what they meant. There was always a chance for them to mean something that had nothing to do with physical attraction and everything to do with basic fear. After all, she had had enough time on her hands to mull over my inexcusable, beastly intrusion and grow to despise it.
But then again, she was here. With me. Alone. Defenseless. Vulnerable. A prey so unchallenging there was no hunting necessary. And she knew it, but she chose to take a leap of faith and risk everything regardless.
My inner dispute was dispelled when the light around us started to change, as the forest ceiling became slightly thinner. That was when Bella glanced at my face and suddenly stopped.
"Wait a minute," she said. I stopped too, confused about what got her attention. She stared at me intently, her mien indecipherable.
"What's wrong?"
"Nothing's wrong. It's just… your eyes." Oh. Definitely not what I expected. And definitely not something I could have predicted, although I should have, my haste be damned. I had not changed my contacts in over six hours, which meant that more than enough time had passed for the venom to dissolve the artificial pigment in them and make the remaining crimson flecks apparent again. "I like them," Bella continued, an eerie nostalgia tainting her voice. "I like them a lot."
Immediately after, I noticed her heartbeat galloping, and I got the answer to my unspoken question: she was not afraid.
She was turned on.
"You shouldn't," I replied, hoping to crush her misplaced feelings with rudeness.
If she was hurt, she didn't show it. She just started walking again, turning her face away from me. I purposefully chose to remain one step behind, as the umbra of the forest started growing progressively weaker while we advanced. We were closer now, close enough for me to distinguish the sweet smell of wildflowers in the air—a scent that surely had the power to enthrall, although not nearly to the same level as Bella's blood.
I yearned to know what thoughts were pestering her mind while we continued our foray. Was she even remotely aware of how I was slowly losing my reason? And if she was, did she care? The answers to these questions remained a mystery to me.
The sun was still guarding the leftovers of the day when I noticed a familiar cluster of ferns. Beyond that cluster, there would only be light. With nowhere to run from it.
I wasn't ready for Bella to see me like this again.
But there was no time for getting over my nervousness, because as soon as she saw the hedge of ferns guarding the entrance, she recognized where we were. She shot me a single look—jubilation dancing in her eyes—then rushed her way through the lush greenery, into the meadow.
I followed.
"I can't believe it…" Bella's whisper was so delicate, it got lost in the breeze whirring around. "It's the same."
And she was right.
For the most part, this place that was once ours was pristine.
Daisies, buttercups, and bluebells rocked back and forth between undulating walls of grass, while insects hummed the wistful melodies of their short existence. The taller flowers were sturdier, refusing to succumb and dance to the rhythm of the wind, but just as arresting in their gracefulness as their smaller siblings.
The only noticeable change was the vegetation circling the meadow—thicker now than it ever was, a sign that nature kept its course, just as it should.
The second it had taken me to observe the charm of the place ended before it began, getting my attention back to what mattered the most: Bella. She was momentarily stunned, standing unmoved under the thin veil of light. I walked behind her, gathering up more courage as I went, knowing that I couldn't hide forever. I tried to ignore the way in which my bare forearms reflected the light in that abhorrent way I knew too well—I knew that was the least of my worries, considering that my face was on full display and arguably worse.
Lost in a pensive state, Bella seemed startled when I finally reached her side. She looked up at me, and her eyes went wide.
And reflected in her irises, I saw what I hated the most.
The bright flare of my skin was out of this world, almost grotesque. And right now, it was a burdensome reminder of all the reasons why Bella and I could not work. The web of motives was thick and complex, starting with how every second spent in my presence was a hazard to her very life and ramifying into all the little things she would have to give up for my sake: the sun's embrace, the nights of sleep, the possibility to create life.
And then, the heaviest sacrifice of all: her soul.
I shuddered, unable to comprehend the loss of a soul as pure as Bella's at my hands. It wasn't just wrong. It was evil.
It was all there, in her eyes—all the reasons why friendship was the end of the road for us.
"Wow," she whispered, still studying my face. "I… I forgot how much I loved seeing you in the sun."
My bitter smile got her to smile too. I was touched by how she loved the things I hated myself for, but also saddened. She deserved so much more than caring about a monster, yet I never really gave her much of a choice, since I made sure to sneak my way into her life not just once, but twice.
"Your instincts are backwards, as usual," I commented, keeping a light-hearted tone.
She huffed, clearly not in agreement. "Good thing you don't get to be in command of them then."
I had no smart rebuttal to that, so I simply stepped away, pushing the tall flowers out of my way. I heard Bella following in stride.
"So listen," she started, "I've been doing a lot of thinking these days."
"I bet you have."
"Haven't you done the same?"
Did getting progressively overwhelmed by guilt count as thinking? "I suppose."
Once we arrived on a patch of land where the flora was not so overwhelming in height, I stopped and reached behind me to grab the backpack I had been carrying and unzipped it. Inside it, an unfamiliar blue blanket, along with a bottle of water, rested peacefully. I took out the blanket and laid it on the ground, before placing the backpack on top of it.
"Well, I've been thinking about what we've been doing," she persisted. "About all the limits we've set up, all the barriers…"
Bella avoided my gaze as she talked—and I was willing to bet that her flushed cheeks had something to do with it. She sat down on the blanket, her pulse increasingly rabid.
"I mean, we've been so careful, right?"
If I willingly ignored what happened during our last nightly meeting, then yes, I could admit that she was right. But how could I possibly pretend that it didn't happen, knowing that it changed everything?
"That is… debatable," I said in the end, as I caved and joined her on the blanket. I purposefully chose the far end of the blanket, where the sweet temptation of her blood and body was not so easily within reach.
"Perhaps, but the thing is, the more I thought about these limits, the more convinced I became that they are probably pointless, when you consider everything."
She kept looking down, which made the struggle to decipher her immune mind even more obnoxious than usual.
"I'm not following," I admitted in frustration.
"What I'm trying to say is that you're leaving soon anyway, so everything will… go back to how it was, I guess. And I don't know about you, but if I don't ask you this now, I'll probably be left wondering for the rest of time." She was properly nervous now, her nails digging in her palms. I was just as nervous as her, but fortunately, I knew how to hide it. "So before we actually say goodbye, don't you think we should pretend that nothing matters for once?"
I felt my insides tying themselves up into tight knots of anticipation. "Bella, what are you asking me?"
She finally looked up, daring to confront my eyes. "You know what I'm asking."
I held up her gaze, as stupefaction took over me, trying to comprehend how I ever allowed things to slip so far out of my control. Was it the continuous chain of concupiscent meetings whose significance we denied time and time again? Was it the vulnerabilities we shared with each other? Or the long talks? Was it the way I got to get a taste of Bella in every possible way? While there were so many intricate reasons for why we ended up here, I knew that it was impossible to explain why the malleable tie between us shifted into something so highly unprincipled without showcasing how twisted I was.
And it was too late to do the right thing—the damage had already been done, Bella was already offering her last shred of innocence to me on a silver platter, as if it meant nothing at all to her.
"We can't," I uttered through tense lips.
"Please?" Her voice was wretched with hope. I watched her move from her spot on the blanket, dragging on her knees until she was closer to me, and I was utterly speechless. I felt her formidable warmth washing all over me, defrosting my dead body at an alarmingly fast rate. There had never been a temptation greater than this, nor a rapture harder to refuse. When Bella was close enough, she did the unthinkable and climbed on my lap, momentarily taking advantage of how lost in lust I was. With my mind racing in a million directions, my instinct took over and I grabbed her waist, in love with the way the flesh yielded under my grasp. But instead of moving her away, I pulled her many dangerous inches closer. "Make love to me, Edward."
"That is impossible," was all I said. But as the syllables rolled off my tongue, I couldn't help but notice how the veins on Bella's neck trembled. How her lips quivered. How the scent of her arousal was so thick it was competing with that of her blood. "Absolutely impossible," I repeated. And, against all sensibility, I pulled her down hard, my stiff cock crashing unashamedly against the enticing heat between her thighs.
The sudden contact—along with all the illicit scenarios it brought along—got us to moan in unison. The feeling was unfamiliar and so, so incredibly good. I couldn't even pretend that it lived up to the expectations I had built up inside my head, because it was endlessly better. It didn't even matter that the junction was toned down by the burden of clothes, not when we were flying so close to the sun.
I had to find a way back to the ground, to avoid burning altogether—but I couldn't seem to remember the most basic of movements.
"But it's killing me," she whimpered. "Can you honestly tell me you don't want the same thing?"
I couldn't lie. Not when she could feel the hard proof of my truth between her legs.
"Fucking hell, Bella," I grunted. "You know that I do."
She expired—a long, shaky exhale that enveloped my face in delectable heat—and pulled back for a second. I didn't get to wonder about what she was going to do next, because for once, her impulses seemed to be faster than my intuition. So when she took off her shirt, I was wholly off guard.
I had seen her like this before, but she had never been this close. If I leaned forward a few inches, I could easily tear away the black lace of her bra with my teeth and get to the tantalizing mounds of her breasts. And if I went higher up, I could brush my lips against her carotid… and drag my tongue all over its length… then graze it with my teeth, allowing the contents to spill right into my willing mouth.
"Fuck me," she begged under her breath.
God, yes, yes, yes!
"No," I forced myself to respond, even though I could see, reflected in her brown irises, that my eyes told a different story. Refusing her was made all the more difficult by the fact that I couldn't keep my eyes off of the ravishing vale of her cleavage. I needed to gain at least one ounce of my control back. "And put your shirt back on."
"You don't like it?"
That was an insane assumption—insulting really. I liked to believe that she knew, by now, that I was fully besotted with every part of her body, no exceptions. There wasn't a single inch of skin that I didn't love. Not a single curve that didn't drive me wild. Not one bit of flesh I wouldn't venerate if I had the chance. Out of some stupid masculine pride, I rolled us over, trapping her body under my own, and thrust my hips forward, allowing Bella to feel my throbbing erection once more. "You tell me."
She gasped at my audacity, but met my movement with a keen sway of her hips, pushing them upwards to meet me. "Then why are you—"
"Shhh," I pressed my finger on her lips, trying to put an end to the small avalanche of words struggling to get out. "I am not fucking you tonight. Or ever, for that matter."
My body wasn't that great at keeping up with my morale code, because my initial thrust turned into a slow dance of swaying and grinding back and forth, seeking the sweet friction that we both needed so badly. If I wanted to make a point out of the fact that I had no plans of caving, I was probably failing.
Bella's hands grabbed my shoulders and tried to get me to lean closer. I didn't budge. In fact, her laughable effort almost made me smile.
"Why not?"
"You know the answer. And I'm about to break a hundred different promises I made to you and myself if you keep insisting, so please stop."
And with that, I pulled back, finally offering Bella her space back. Parting from her made me feel hollow and incomplete. She rose up and threw me a defeated look when I handed her the T-shirt she had thrown in the grass.
"Well… this is not how things went in my head," she muttered.
"You had this all planned?"
"I wouldn't be wearing any kind of lace otherwise."
My eyes were already on her breasts when she said that. The contrast between the dark lace and her fair skin was sublime. The idea that she had chosen to wear something like this specifically for me was endearing. And arousing. And sad. "You should. You look quite irresistible in it."
"Funny you should say that, considering how you so easily resisted me."
"Resisting was anything but easy for me. You know why I stopped you."
She sighed and I watched the wonder of Bella wearing lace disappear as she put her T-shirt back on.
"Do I?"
"Don't do this, Bella. This is not about desire. My self-control is always one breath away from being blown to pieces when I am with you. I've almost taken you countless times in that forest behind your house."
"The key word here being almost."
"Your first time should be more special than this."
"It would have been plenty special for me," she countered.
"And your first time should not be with me. That ring on your finger should be reason enough."
We both glanced at the ruby ring weighing down her hand—yet another reason in a long list of reasons why we couldn't be together—and she touched it pensively. Seemingly without much thought, she pulled it off her finger and placed it in her back pocket. I didn't ask her why. I didn't stop her. I just let it happen, too scared to react anymore.
For a while, no other words were exchanged, we simply allowed the hum of the fauna to fill the void. It was a strange kind of silence, taking into account what transpired between us. But what else was there to say, when all of my mistakes had led to this?
Apparently, the quietude affected us in different ways. While I was stuck inaudibly regretting every step that led me down this path, Bella's emotions glissaded into something visceral and real.
The saline scent of tears reached me before the first tear was even shed.
The harrowing realization that I had made Bella cry again was the last straw for me. It was all so obvious—my darkness had reached too far into her soul, tainting it in the most foul of ways, and I had no one to blame but myself. I had been warned, time and time again, to keep my distance if I truly wanted to allow her to live her life in peace, and I never listened. Not once.
I had been clinging so closely to the idea that I knew better than everyone else—so convinced that I understood when to stop before hurting my beloved—that I ignored the telltale signs of the incoming disaster. And I could see them now, scattered all throughout the last weeks, obvious in their foretelling nature. I could see them, but it was all in vain, because I never stopped when I should have, despite all the warning signs.
There seemed to be no point in trying to right my wrongs now. No point in stopping. There were still fallacies I had not committed, but what I wanted to do couldn't possibly count as one.
So I reached after Bella, my arms circling her completely, and I pulled her in my embrace, until her weight was on my lap and her head rested underneath my chin. She felt so fragile and breakable in my granite hold that I felt compelled to be cautious to an extreme.
"Don't waste your tears for me, please," I whispered, my lips in her hair. "I don't deserve it."
"I can't, Edward… I can't…"
And in the hour that followed, I realized that she truly couldn't. Something inside her must have snapped, because she kept crying, letting it all out in a way I had never seen her do before. Her shoulders shook violently from the force of her tears, as if her body was on the brink of collapsing.
Throughout all this, I never stopped holding her. I held her close to my chest, my fingers trailing patterns on her back, no longer trying to suppress her emotions. If she needed this kind of liberation, I didn't want to be the one to bring it to a standstill before she was ready. It didn't matter that each new tear was burrowing new trenches of misery inside me—that was a mild comeuppance, when I factored in how I corrupted Bella's life right as she was rebuilding it.
The twilight shadows were setting in when her sobs started to grow scarcer. My shirt was properly soaked, but I didn't mind it.
"Are you tired?" I murmured. I felt the nodding movement under my chin, so I felt compelled to ask another question. "Do you want me to get you back home?"
"No… not really." Her voice had a new hoarseness to it. "Let's stay here."
If the circumstances had been different, I might have insisted on leaving—but doing so didn't feel right. These were probably some of our last moments together. I had run out of excuses to justify my actions.
"We'll stay here then," I said.
"Thank you." She grabbed a fistful of my shirt, using it as leverage to move away from me. Instead of grabbing her and pulling her right back into my arms—where she belonged—I mirrored her actions. When she laid down on her side, I did the same, facing her. Now that I could see her face, I noticed how the sclerotic coat of her eyes had reddened from the onslaught of tears. "Will you tell me something?"
"Yes."
"Did you really come back to Forks for that house? Will it even be demolished?"
I thought about it for a moment—about this lie and what it meant. I had clung to it so stupidly, so recklessly, as if it was going to save me. What I had failed to consider was that despite how lies ran faster than the truth, the truth was tremendously good at catching up. I knew that Bella's question was more of a formality—or rather her way of allowing me the chance to be honest without making a fool of myself.
I didn't want to screw up this chance. "No," I answered.
A profound sigh followed—if I had to guess, she was mad at me, rightfully so. However, it seemed that her priorities were different, because she pulled herself together a few seconds later, continuing with a different request. "Tell me why you did it."
Another chance. I had to take it. "I wanted to see you again."
"Why did you wait for so long to see me? I need the truth."
Bella moved, killing off more inches between us, and I did the same. Her hair was tangled up in the small space that kept us apart and its smell was intoxicatingly sweet to my senses. I wanted to sink my face into it and never come up for air. Impulsively, I caressed one strand with my hand, analyzing its impossible softness.
"The truth?" I picked up the strand I held between my fingers, staring at it. Without thinking, my free hand reached above my head, grazing the fresh grass, until I felt a change in texture. I pulled the small flower I had found away from its stem and brought it in front of my eyes. It was a small daisy, beautiful in its fragility. With great care, I placed it on the strand of hair that I was still caressing. "I found out about your engagement before I got here," I went on. "And when I heard you were getting married, I knew what the right thing to do was. I had to be happy for you, right? It would have been the height of hypocrisy not to be, since I had been praying you would eventually find love. But then this selfish part of me… this selfish part wanted to see that happiness. To convince itself that you were truly content. That you made the right choice."
"And do you think I'm happy now? Do you think I made the right choice?"
"That's not for me to say."
"I know, but what do you think?"
"I think you should know if you're happy without having someone else confirm it for you."
Bella closed her eyes and, for a few moments, the pain hiding inside them was nowhere to be seen. Her face looked deceptively peaceful, as if suffering was nothing but a distant memory. Without pondering too much, I grabbed another daisy from the grass and placed it in her hair, wanting to preserve this picture of illusory serenity. My fingers lingered in her hair, not ready to let go.
When she opened her eyes again, they were wet and glistening.
"You know what's funny?" she hummed. "I wouldn't have looked at him twice if you stayed. I wouldn't have needed anyone in this life but you."
Regret grew inside me, spreading like an invasive weed. It was one thing for me to mourn the tragedy of our past relationship, but for her to do the same? That was the kind of transgression that would have never happened had I acted in her best interest instead of mine.
"I would have never been enough," I replied, hoping to steer her conscience back to safer lands.
"No, you were enough. You were always enough for me…"
"Don't say that."
"You still are."
I was at a loss for words. I just shook my head back and forth in denial of the blasphemy she was implying. As tears escaped and ran across Bella's face, I felt my own eyes stinging too—with the torment of loving her so deeply, with the cleaver of my sins dangling over my head, with the forlorn need to cry and the sheer inability to do so.
This moment, right here, felt like dying all over again—only this time the death seemed finite, like the proverbial end of the road.
No doubt about it, this was the last night we would spend together, for I had contaminated enough of Bella's mind and soul to last her a lifetime. I couldn't spread the disease further. I could only relish the remains of this day that would forever live in my mind as the day when I lost the only love I had ever known for good.
Not that she had ever truly been mine.
So attempting to take one last grasp of what I was losing, I encircled Bella in my arms, getting her body to press against my own. I felt her breath—warm and shaking—on my chest, as acute sobs poured out of her. I didn't say anything, too afraid that if I opened my mouth now, I was going to say the wrong thing.
Like I love you.
I want you to be mine and I want to be yours.
Break up with your fiancé.
Give up your life for me.
Choose me now.
Love me forever.
I wanted to tell her everything, but instead, I kept my silence. And it was here, at this grand crossroad of my otherwise purposeless existence, that I felt truly human. Human enough to feel every crack in my heart reaching an end, finally crushing me to smithereens. Human enough to feel incapacitated by the unbearable load of my feelings, knowing that there was no escape from them.
So as Bella was drifting off to the uncertain land of dreams, I cried too, in my own way—without tears, my eyes hurting, and my mind falling to catastrophic depths of anguish.
The only way I was capable of, in all my demonic glory.
Now, before you reach through your screen and smack Edward over his angsty head, I'll tell you this: the night is only starting :).
I am super curious to find out your thoughts on this chapter, so bring them on!
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Until next Sunday, stay safe and happy!