Monday, January 19, 2009

Making Love To A Vampire ?!

"Thorough," I murmured under my breath, and he chuckled. It was a nervous
sound, rare for Edward.
"I tried to think of everything that would make this... easier," he admitted.
I swallowed loudly, still facing away from him. Had there ever been a honeymoon
like this before?
I knew the answer to that. No. There had not.
"I was wondering,'7Edward said slowly, "if... first... maybe you'd like to take a
midnight swim with me?" He took a deep breath, and his voice was more at ease
when he spoke again. "The water will be very warm. This is the kind of beach you
approve of."
"Sounds nice." My voice broke.
"I'm sure you'd like a human minute or two.... It was a long journey."
I nodded woodenly. I felt barely human; maybe a few minutes alone would help.
His lips brushed against my throat, just below my ear. He chuckled once and his
cool breath tickled my overheated skin. "Don't taketoo long, Mrs. Cullen."
I jumped a little at the sound of my new name.
His lips brushed down my neck to the tip of my shoulder. "I'll wait for you in the
water."
He walked past me to the French door that opened right onto the beach sand. On
the way, he shrugged out of his shirt, dropping it on the floor, and then slipped
through the door into the moonlit night. The sultry, salty air swirled into the
room behind him.
Did my skin burst into flames? I had to look down to check. Nope, nothing was
burning. At least, not visibly.
I reminded myself to breathe, and then I stumbled toward the giant suitcase that
Edward had opened on top of a low white dresser. It must be mine, because my
familiar bag of toiletries was right on top, and there was a lot of pink in there, but
I didn't recognize even one article of clothing. As I pawed through the neatly
folded piles – looking for something familiar and comfortable, a pair of old
sweats maybe – it came to my attention that there was an awful lot of sheer lace
and skimpy satin in my hands. Lingerie. Very lingerie-ish lingerie, with French
tags.
I didn't know how or when, but someday, Alice was going to pay for this.
Giving up, I went to the bathroom and peeked out through the long windows that
opened to the same beach as the French doors. I couldn't see him; I guessed he
was there in the water, not bothering to come up for air. In the sky above, the
moon was lopsided, almost full, and the sand was bright white under its shine. A
small movement caught my eye – draped over a bend in one of the palm trees
that fringed the beach, the rest of his clothes were swaying in the light breeze.
A rush of heat flashed across my skin again.
I took a couple of deep breaths and then went to the mirrors above the long
stretch of counters. I looked exactly like I'd been sleeping on a plane all day. I
found my brush and yanked it harshly through the snarls on the back of my neck
until they were smoothed out and the bristles were full of hair. I brushed my
teeth meticulously, twice. Then I washed my face and splashed water on the back
of my neck, which was feeling feverish. That felt so good that I washed my arms
as well, and finally I decided to just give up and take the shower. I knew it was
ridiculous to shower before swimming, but I needed to calm down, and hot water
was one reliable way to do that.
Also, shaving my legs again seemed like a pretty good idea.
When I was done, I grabbed a huge white towel off the counter and wrapped it
under my arms.
Then I was faced with a dilemma I hadn't considered. What was I supposed to
put on? Not a swimsuit, obviously. But it seemed silly to put my clothes back on,
too. I didn't even want to think about the things Alice had packed for me.
My breathing started to accelerate again and my hands trembled – so much for
the calming effects of the shower. I started to feel a little dizzy, apparently a fullscale
panic attack on the way. I sat down on the cool tile floor in my big towel and
put my head between my knees. I prayed he wouldn't decide to come look for me
before I could pull myself together. I could imagine what he would think if he saw
me going to pieces this way. It wouldn't be hard for him to convince himself that
we were making a mistake.
And I wasn't freaking out because I thought we were making a mistake. Not
atall. I was freaking out because I had no idea how to do this, and I was afraid to
walk out of this room and face the unknown. Especially in French lingerie. I knew
I wasn't ready forthat yet
This felt exactly like having to walk out in front of a theater full of thousands
with no idea what my lines were.
How did people do this – swallowall their fears and trust someone else so implicitly
with every imperfection and fear they had – with less than the absolute
commitment Edward had given me? if it weren't Edward out there, if I didn't
know in every cell of my body that he loved me as much as I loved him – unconditionally
and irrevocably and, to be honest, irrationally – I'd never be able to get
up off this floor.
But itwas Edward out there, so I whispered the words "Don't be a coward" under
my breath and scrambled to my feet. I hitched the towel tighter under my arms
and marched determinedly from the bathroom. Past the suitcase full of lace and
the big bed without looking at either. Out the open glass door onto the powderfine
sand.
Everything was black-and-white, leached colorless by the moon. I walked slowly
across the warm powder, pausing beside the curved tree where he had left his
clothes. I laid my hand against the rough bark and checked my breathing to make
sure it was even. Or even enough.
I looked across the low ripples, black in the darkness, searching for him.
He wasn't hard to find. He stood, his back to me, waist deep in the midnight water,
staring up at the oval moon. The pallid light of the moon turned his skin a
perfect white, like the sand, like the moon itself, and made his wet hair black as
the ocean. He was motionless, his hands resting palms down against the water;
the low waves broke around him as if he were a stone. I stared at the smooth lines
of his back, his shoulders, his arms, his neck, theflawless shape of him....
The fire was no longer a flash burn across my skin – it was slow and deep now; it
smoldered away all my awkwardness, my shy uncertainty. I slipped the towel off
without hesitation, leaving it on the tree with his clothes, and walked out into the
white light; it made me pale as the snowy sand, too.
I couldn't hear the sound of my footsteps as I walked to the water's edge, but I
guessed that he could. Edward did not turn. I let the gentle swells break over my
toes, and found that he'd been right about the temperature – it was very warm,
like bath water. I stepped in, walking carefully across the invisible ocean floor,
but my care was unnecessary; the sand continued perfectly smooth, sloping gently
toward Edward. I waded through the weightless
current till I was at his side, and then I placed my hand lightly over his cool hand
lying on the water.
"Beautiful," I said, looking up at the moon, too.
"It's all right," he answered, unimpressed. He turned slowly to face me; little
waves rolled away from his movement and broke against my skin. His eyes
looked silver in his ice-colored face. He twisted his hand up so that he could twine
our fingers beneath the surface of the water. It was warm enough that his cool
skin did not raise goose bumps on mine.
"But I wouldn't use the wordbeautiful" he continued. "Not with you standing
here in comparison."
I half-smiled, then raised my free hand – it didn't tremble now – and placed it
over his heart. White on white; we matched, for once. He shuddered the tiniest
bit at my warm touch. His breath came rougher now.
"I promised we wouldtry" he whispered, suddenly tense. "If... if I do something
wrong, if I hurt you, you must tell me at once."
I nodded solemnly, keeping my eyes on his. I took another step through the
waves and leaned my head against his chest.
"Don't be afraid," I murmured. "We belong together."
I was abruptly overwhelmed by the truth of my own words. This moment was so
perfect, so right, there was no way to doubt it.
His arms wrapped around me, holding me against him, summer and winter. It
felt like every nerve ending in my body was a live wire.
"Forever," he agreed, and then pulled us gently into deeper water.
The sun, hot on the bare skin of my back, woke me in the morning. Late morning,
maybe afternoon, I wasn't sure. Everything besides the time was clear,
though; I knew exactly where I was – the bright room with the big white bed, brilliant
sunlight streaming through the open doors. The clouds of netting would soften
the shine.
I didn't open my eyes. I was too happy to change anything, no matter how small.
The only sounds were the waves outside, our breathing, my heartbeat...
I was comfortable, even with the baking sun. His cool skin was the perfect antidote
to the heat. Lying across his wintry chest, his arms wound around me, felt
very easy and natural. I wondered idly what I'd been so panicky about last night.
My fears all seemed silly now.
His fingers softly trailed down the contours of my spine, and I knew that he knew
I was awake. I kept my eyes shut and tightened my arms around his neck, holding
myself closer to him.
He didn't speak; his fingers moved up and down my back, barely touching it as
he lightly traced patterns on my skin.
I would have been happy to lie here forever, to never disturb this moment, but
my body had other ideas. I laughed at my impatient stomach. It seemed sort of
prosaic to be hungry after all that had passed last night. Like
being brought back down to earth from some great height.
"What's funny?" he murmured, still stroking my back. The sound of his voice,
serious and husky, brought with it a deluge of memories from the night, and I felt
a blush color my face and neck.
To answer his question, my stomach growled. I laughed again. "You just can't escape
being human for very long."
I waited, but he did not laugh with me. Slowly, sinking through the many layers
of bliss that clouded my head, came the realization of a different atmosphere outside
my own glowing sphere of happiness.
I opened my eyes; the first thing I saw was the pale, almost silvery skin of his
throat, the arc of his chin above my face. His jaw was taut. I propped myself up
on my elbow so I could see his face.
He was staring at the frothy canopy above us, and he didn't look at me as I studied
his grave features. His expression was a shock – it sent a physical jolt through
my body.
"Edward," I said, a strange little catch in my throat, "what is it? What's wrong?"
"You have to ask?" His voice was hard, cynical.
My first instinct, the product of a lifetime of insecurities, was to wonder what I
had done wrong. I thought through everything that had happened, but I couldn't
find any sour note in the memory. It had all been simpler than I'd expected; we'd
fit together like corresponding pieces, made to match up. This had given me a secret
satisfaction – we were compatible physically, as well as all the other ways.
Fire and ice, somehow existing together without destroying each other. More
proof that I belonged with him.
I couldn't think of any part that would make him look like this – so severe and
cold. What had I missed?
His finger smoothed the worried lines on my forehead.
"What are you thinking?" he whispered.
"You're upset. I don't understand. Did I... ?" I couldn't finish.
His eyes tightened. "How badly are you hurt, Bella? The truth – don't try to
downplay it."
"Hurt?" I repeated; my voice came out higher than usual because the word took
me so by surprise.
He raised one eyebrow, his lips a tight line.
I made a quick assessment, stretching my body automatically, tensing and flexing
my muscles. There was stiffness, and a lot of soreness, too, it was true, but
mostly there was the odd sensation that my bones all had become unhinged at the
joints, and I had changed halfway into the consistency of a jellyfish. It was not an
unpleasant feeling.
And then I was a little angry, because he was darkening this most perfect of all
mornings with his pessimistic assumptions.
"Why would you jump to that conclusion? I've never been better than I am now."
His eyes closed. "Stop that."
"Stopwhat?"
"Stop acting like I'm not a monster for having agreed to this."
"Edward!'7I whispered, really upset now. He was pulling my bright memory
through the darkness, staining it. "Don't ever say that."
He didn't open his eyes; it was like he didn't want to see me.
"Look at yourself, Bella. Then tell me I'm not a monster."
Wounded, shocked, I followed his instruction unthinkingly and then gasped.
What had happened to me? I couldn't make sense of the fluffy white snow that
clung to my skin. I shook my head, and a cascade of white drifted out of my hair.
I pinched one soft white bit between my fingers. It was a piece of down.
"Why am I covered in feathers?" I asked, confused.
He exhaled impatiently. "I bit a pillow. Or two. That's not what I'm talking
about."
"You... bit a pillow?Why?"
"Look, Bella!" he almost growled. He took my hand – very gingerly – and
stretched my arm out. "Look atthat"
This time, I saw what he meant.
Under the dusting of feathers, large purplish bruises were beginning to blossom
across the pale skin of my arm. My eyes followed the trail they made up to my
shoulder, and then down across my ribs. I pulled my hand free to poke at a discoloration
on my left forearm, watching it fade where I touched and then reappear.
It throbbed a little.
So lightly that he was barely touching me, Edward placed his hand against the
bruises on my arm, one at a time, matching his long fingers to the patterns.
"Oh," I said.
I tried to remember this – to remember pain – but I couldn't. I couldn't recall a
moment when his hold had been too tight, his hands too hard against me. I only
remembered wanting him to hold me tighter, and being pleased when he did....
"I'm... so sorry, Bella," he whispered while I stared at the bruises. "I knew better
than this. I should not have – " He made a low, revolted sound in the back of his
throat. "I am more sorry than I can tell you."
He threw his arm over his face and became perfectly still.
I sat for one long moment in total astonishment, trying to come to terms – now
that I understood it – with his misery. It was so contrary to the way that I felt that
it was difficult to process.
Theshock wore off slowly, leaving nothing in its absence. Emptiness. My mind
was blank. I couldn't think of what to say. How could I explain it to him in the
right way? How could I make him as happy as I was – or as Ihad been, a moment
ago?
I touched his arm, and he didn't respond. I wrapped my fingers around his wrist
and tried to pry his arm off his face, but I could have been yanking on a sculpture
for all the good it did me.
"Edward."
He didn't move.
"Edward?"
Nothing. So, this would be a monologue, then.
"I'mnot sorry, Edward. I'm... I can't even tell you. I'mso happy. That doesn't
cover it. Don't be angry. Don't. I'm really f – "
"Do not say the word fine." His voice was ice cold. "If you value my sanity, do not
say that you are fine."
"But Iam: I whispered.
"Bella," he almost moaned. "Don't."
"No.You don't, Edward."
He moved his arm; his gold eyes watched me warily.
"Don't ruin this," I told him. "I. Am. Happy."
"I've already ruined this," he whispered.

From Breaking Dawn by Stephenie Meyer

see also How It Feels Turned To Be A Vampire

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