The pain was bewildering.
Exactly that – I was bewildered. I couldn't understand, couldn't make sense of
what was happening.
My body tried to reject the pain, and I was sucked again and again into a blackness
that cut out whole seconds or maybe even minutes of the agony, making it
that much harder to keep up with reality.
I tried to separate them.
Non-reality was black, and it didn't hurt so much.
Reality was red, and it felt like I was being sawed in half, hit by a bus, punched
by a prize fighter, trampled by bulls, and submerged in acid, all at the same time.
Reality was feeling my body twist and flip when I couldn't possibly move because
of the pain.
Reality was knowing there was something so much more important than all this
torture, and not being able to remember what it was.
Reality had come on so fast.
One moment, everything was as it should have been. Surrounded by people I
loved. Smiles. Somehow, unlikely as it was, it seemed like I was about to get everything
I'd been fighting for.
And then one tiny, inconsequential thing had gone wrong.
I'd watched as my cup tilted, dark blood spilling out and staining the perfect
white, and I'd lurched toward the accident reflexively. I'd seen the other, faster
hands, but my body had continued to reach, to stretch...
Inside me, something had yanked the opposite direction.
Ripping. Breaking. Agony.
The darkness had taken over, and then washed away to a wave of torture. I
couldn't breathe – I had drowned once before, and this was different; it was too
hot in my throat.
Pieces of me shattering, snapping, slicing apart...
More blackness.
Voices, this time, shouting, as the pain came back.
'The placenta must have detached!"
Something sharper than knives ripped through me – the words, making sense in
spite of the other tortures.Detached placenta – I knew what that meant. It meant
that my baby was dying inside me.
"Get him out!" I screamed to Edward. Why hadn't he done it yet? "He can't
breathe! Do it now!"
"The morphine – "
He wanted to wait, to give me painkillers, while our baby was dying?!
"No! Now – ," I choked, unable to finish.
Black spots covered the light in the room as a cold point of new pain stabbed icily
into my stomach. It felt wrong – I struggled automatically to protect my womb,
my baby, my little Edward Jacob, but I was weak. My lungs ached, oxygen burned
away.
The pain faded away again, though I clung to it now. My baby, my baby, dying...
How long had passed? Seconds or minutes? The pain was gone. Numb. I couldn't
feel. I still couldn't see, either, but I could hear. There was air in my lungs again,
scraping in rough bubbles up and down my throat.
"You stay withme now, Bella! Do you hear me? Stay! You're not leaving me. Keep
your heart beating!"
Jacob? Jacob, still here, still trying to save me.
Of course,I wanted to tell him. Of course I would keep my heart beating. Hadn't I
promised them both?
I tried to feel my heart, to find it, but I was so lost inside my own body. I couldn't
feel the things I should, and nothing felt in the right place. I blinked and I found
my eyes. I could see the light. Not what I was looking for, but better than nothing.
As my eyes struggled to adjust, Edward whispered, "Renesmee."
Renesmee?
Not the pale and perfect son of my imagination? I felt a moment of shock. And
then a flood of warmth.
Renesmee.
I willed my lips to move, willed the bubbles of air to turn into whispers on my
tongue. I forced my numb hands to reach.
"Let me... Give her to me."
The light danced, shattering off Edward's crystal hands. The sparkles were tinged
with red, with the blood that covered his skin. And more red in his hands. Something
small and struggling, dripping with blood. He touched the warm body to my
weak arms, almost like I was holding her. Her wet skin was hot – as hot as Jacob's.
My eyes focused; suddenly everything was absolutely clear.
Renesmee did not cry, but she breathed in quick, startled pants. Her eyes were
open, her expression so shocked it was almost funny. The little, perfectly round
head was covered in a thick layer of matted, bloody curls. Her
irises were a familiar – but astonishing – chocolate brown. Under the blood, her
skin looked pale, a creamy ivory. All besides her cheeks, which flamed with color.
Her tiny face was so absolutely perfect that it stunned me. She was even more
beautiful than her father. Unbelievable. Impossible.
"Renesmee," I whispered. "So... beautiful."
The impossible face suddenly smiled – a wide, deliberate smile. Behind the shellpink
lips was a full complement of snowy milk teeth.
She leaned her head down, against my chest, burrowing against the warmth. Her
skin was warm and silky, but it didn't give the way mine did.
Then there was pain again – just one warm slash of it. I gasped.
And she was gone. My angel-faced baby was nowhere. I couldn't see or feel her.
No!I wanted to shout.Give her back to me!
But the weakness was too much. My arms felt like empty rubber hoses for a moment,
and then they felt like nothing at all. I couldn't feel them. I couldn't feel me.
The blackness rushed over my eyes more solidly than before. Like a thick blindfold,
firm and fast. Covering not just my eyes but also myself with a crushing
weight. It was exhausting to push against it. I knew it would be so much easier to
give in. To let the blackness push me down, down, down to a place where there
was no pain and no weariness and no worry and no fear.
If it had only been for myself, I wouldn't have been able to struggle very long. I
was only human, with no more than human strength. I'd been trying to keep up
with the supernatural for too long, like Jacob had said.
But this wasn't just about me.
If I did the easy thing now, let the black nothingness erase me, I would hurt
them.
Edward. Edward. My life and his were twisted into a single strand. Cut one, and
you cut both. If he were gone, I would not be able to live through that. If I were
gone, he wouldn't live through it, either. And a world without Edward seemed
completely pointless. Edwardhad to exist.
Jacob – who'd said goodbye to me over and over but kept coming back when I
needed him. Jacob, who I'd wounded so many times it was criminal. Would I hurt
him again, the worst way yet? He'd stayed for me, despite everything. Now all he
asked was that I stay for him.
But it was so dark here that I couldn't see either of their faces. Nothing seemed
real. That made it hard not to give up.
I kept pushing against the black, though, almost a reflex. I wasn't trying to lift it.
I was just resisting. Not allowing it to crush me completely. I wasn't Atlas, and
the black felt as heavy as a planet; I couldn't shoulder it. All I could do was not be
entirely obliterated.
It was sort of the pattern to my life – I'd never been strong enough to deal with
the things outside my control, to attack the enemies or outrun them. To avoid the
pain. Always human and weak, the only thing I'd ever been able to
do was keep going. Endure. Survive.
It had been enough up to this point. It would have to be enough today. I would
endure this until help came.
I knew Edward would be doing everything he could. He would not give up. Neither
would I.
I held the blackness of nonexistence at bay by inches.
It wasn't enough, though – that determination. As the time ground on and on
and the darkness gained by tiny eighths and sixteenths of my inches, I needed
something more to draw strength from.
I couldn't pull even Edward's face into view. Not Jacob's, not Alice's or Rosalie's
or Charlie's or Renee's or Carlisle's or Esme's... Nothing. It terrified me, and I
wondered if it was too late.
I felt myself slipping – there was nothing to hold on to.
No!I had to survive this. Edward was depending on me. Jacob. Charlie Alice
Rosalie Carlisle Renee Esme...
Renesmee.
And then, though I still couldn't see anything, suddenly I couldfeel something.
Like phantom limbs, I imagined I could feel my arms again. And in them, something
small and hard and very, very warm.
My baby. My little nudger.
I had done it. Against the odds, Ihad been strong enough to survive Renesmee, to
hold on to her until she was strong enough to live without me.
That spot of heat in my phantom arms felt so real. I clutched it closer. It was exactly
where my heart should be. Holding tight the warm memory of my daughter,
I knew that I would be able to fight the darkness as long as I needed to.
The warmth beside my heart got more and more real, warmer and warmer. Hotter.
The heat was so real it was hard to believe that I was imagining it.
Hotter.
Uncomfortable now. Too hot. Much, much too hot.
Like grabbing the wrong end of a curling iron – my automatic response was to
drop the scorching thing in my arms. But there was nothing in my arms. My arms
were not curled to my chest. My arms were dead things lying somewhere at my
side. The heat was inside me.
The burning grew – rose and peaked and rose again until it surpassed anything
I'd ever felt.
I felt the pulse behind the fire raging now in my chest and realized that I'd found
my heart again, just in time to wish I never had. To wish that I'd embraced the
blackness while I'd still had the chance. I wanted to raise my arms and claw my
chest open and rip the heart from it – anything to get rid of this torture. But I
couldn't feel my arms, couldn't move one vanished finger.
James, snapping my leg under his foot. That was nothing. That was a soft place
to rest on a feather bed. I'd take that now, a hundred times. A hundred snaps. I'd
take it and be grateful.
The baby, kicking my ribs apart, breaking her way through me piece by piece.
That was nothing. That was floating in a pool of cool water. I'd take it a thousand
times. Take it and be grateful.
The fire blazed hotter and I wanted to scream. To beg for someone to kill me
now, before I lived one more second in this pain. But I couldn't move my lips. The
weight was still there, pressing on me.
I realized it wasn't the darkness holding me down; it was my body. So heavy.
Burying me in the flames that were chewing their way out from my heart now,
spreading with impossible pain through my shoulders and stomach, scalding
their way up my throat, licking at my face.
Why couldn't I move? Why couldn't I scream? This wasn't part of the stories.
My mind was unbearably clear – sharpened by the fierce pain – and I saw the
answer almost as soon as I could form the questions.
The morphine.
It seemed like a million deaths ago that we'd discussed it – Edward, Carlisle, and
I. Edward and Carlisle had hoped that enough painkillers would help fight the
pain of the venom. Carlisle had tried with Emmett, but the venom had burned
ahead of the medicine, sealing his veins. There hadn't been time for it to spread.
I'd kept my face smooth and nodded and thanked my rarely lucky stars that Edward
could not read my mind.
Because I'd had morphine and venom together in my system before, and I knew
the truth. I knew the numbness of the medicine was completely irrelevant while
the venom seared through my veins. But there'd been no way I was going to mention
that fact. Nothing that would make him more unwilling to change me.
I hadn't guessed that the morphine would have this effect – that it would pin me
down and gag me. Hold me paralyzed while I burned.
I knew all the stories. I knew that Carlisle had kept quiet enough to avoid discovery
while he burned. I knew that, according to Rosalie, it did no good to scream.
And I'd hoped that maybe I could be like Carlisle. That I would believe Rosalie's
words and keep my mouth shut. Because I knew that every scream that escaped
my lips would torment Edward.
Now it seemed like a hideous joke that i was getting my wish fulfilled.
If I couldn't scream,how could I tell them to kill me?
All I wanted was to die. To never have been born. The whole of my existence did
not outweigh this pain. Wasn't worth living through it for one more heartbeat.
Let me die, let me die, let me die.
And, for a never-ending space, that was all there was. Just the fiery torture, and
my soundless shrieks, pleading for death to come. Nothing else, not even time. So
that made it infinite, with no beginning and no end. One infinite moment of pain.
The only change came when suddenly, impossibly, my pain was doubled. The
lower half of my body, deadened since before the morphine, was suddenly on fire,
too. Some broken connection had been healed – knitted together by the scorching
fingers of the flame.
The endless burn raqed on.
It could have been seconds or days, weeks or years, but, eventually, time came to
mean something again.
Three things happened together, grew from each other so that I didn't know
which came first: time restarted, the morphine's weight faded, and I got stronger.
I could feel the control of my body come back to me in increments, and those increments
were my first markers of the time passing. I knew it when I was able to
twitch my toes and twist my fingers into fists. I knew it, but I did not act on it.
Though the fire did not decrease one tiny degree – in fact, I began to develop a
new capacity for experiencing it, a new sensitivity to appreciate, separately, each
blistering tongue of flame that licked through my veins – I discovered that I could
think around it.
I could rememberwhy I shouldn't scream. I could remember the reason why I'd
committed to enduring this unendurable agony. I could remember that, though it
felt impossible now, there was something that might be worth the torture.
This happened just in time for me to hold on when the weights left my body. To
anyone watching me, there would be no change. But for me, as I struggled to keep
the screams and thrashing locked up inside my body, where they couldn't hurt
anyone else, it felt like I'd gone from beingtied to the stake as I burned, togripping
that stake to hold myself in the fire.
I had just enough strength to lie there unmoving while I was charred alive.
My hearing got clearer and clearer, and I could count the frantic, pounding beats
of my heart to mark the time.
I could count the shallow breaths that gasped through my teeth.
I could count the low, even breaths that came from somewhere close beside me.
These moved slowest, so I concentrated on them. They meant the most time passing.
More even than a clock's pendulum, those breaths pulled me through the
burning seconds toward the end.
I continued to get stronger, my thoughts clearer. When new noises came, I could
listen.
There were light footsteps, the whisper of air stirred by an opening door. The
footsteps gotcloser, and I felt pressure against the inside of my wrist. I couldn't
feel the coolness of the fingers. The fire blistered away every memory of cool.
"Still no change?"
"None."
The lightest pressure, breath against my scorched skin.
"There's no scent of the morphine left."
"I know."
"Bella? Can you hear me?"
I knew, beyond all doubt, that if I unlocked my teeth I would lose it – I would
shriek and screech and writhe and
thrash. If I opened my eyes, if I so much as twitched a finger – any change at all
would be the end of my control.
"Bella? Bella, love? Can you open your eyes? Can you squeeze my hand?"
Pressure on my fingers. It was harder not to answer this voice, but I stayed paralyzed.
I knew that the pain in his voice now was nothing compared to what itcould
be. Right now he only feared that I was suffering.
"Maybe... Carlisle, maybe I was too late." His voice was muffled; it broke on the
wordlate.
My resolve wavered for a second.
"Listen to her heart, Edward. It's stronger than even Emmett's was. I've never
heard anything sovital. Shell be perfect."
Yes, I was right to keep quiet. Carlisle would reassure him. He didn't need to suffer
with me.
"And her – her spine?"
"Her injuries weren't so much worse than Esme's. The venom will heal her as it
did Esme."
"But she's so still. Imust have done something wrong."
"Or something right, Edward. Son, you did everything I could have and more.
I'm not sure I would have had the persistence, the faith it took to save her. Stop
berating yourself. Bella is going to be fine."
A broken whisper. "She must be in agony."
"We don't know that. She had so much morphine in her system. We don't know
the effect that will have on her experience."
Faint pressure inside the crease of my elbow. Another whisper. "Bella, I love you.
Bella, I'm sorry."
I wanted so much to answer him, but I wouldn't make his pain worse. Not while I
had the strength to hold myself still.
Through all this, the racking fire went right on burning me. But there was so
much space in my head now. Room to ponder their conversation, room to remember
what had happened, room to look ahead to the future, with still endless
room left over to suffer in.
Also room to worry.
Where was my baby? Why wasn't she here? Why weren't they talking about her?
"No, I'm staying right here," Edward whispered, answering an unspoken
thought. "They'll sort it out."
"An interesting situation," Carlisle responded. "And I'd thought I'd seen just
about everything."
"I'll deal with it later.We'll deal with it." Something pressed softly to my blistering
palm.
"I'm sure, between the five of us, we can keep it from turning into bloodshed."
Edward sighed. "I don't know which side to take. I'd love to flog them both. Well,
later."
"I wonder what Bella will think – whose side she'll take," Carlisle mused.
One low, strained chuckle. "I'm sure she'll surprise me. She always does."
Carlisle's footsteps faded away again, and I was frustrated that there was no further
explanation. Were they talking so mysteriously just to annoy me?
I went back to counting Edward's breaths to mark the time.
Ten thousand, nine hundred forty-three breaths later, a different set of footsteps
whispered into the room. Lighter. More... rhythmic.
Strange that I could distinguish the minute differences between footsteps that I'd
never been able to hear at all before today.
"How much longer?" Edward asked.
"It won't be long now," Alice told him. "See how clear she's becoming? I can see
her so much better." She sighed.
"Still feeling a little bitter?"
"Yes, thanks so much for bringing it up," she grumbled. "You would be mortified,
too, if you realized that you were handcuffed by your own nature. I see vampires
best, because I am one; I see humans okay, because I was one. But I can't see
these odd half-breeds at all because they're nothing I've experienced. Bah!"
"Focus, Alice."
"Right. Bella's almost too easy to see now."
There was a long moment of silence, and then Edward sighed. It was a new
sound, happier.
"She's really going to be fine," he breathed.
"Of course she is."
"You weren't so sanguine two days ago."
"I couldn'tsee right two days ago. But now that she's free of all the blind spots,
it's a piece of cake."
"Could you concentrate for me? On the clock – give me an estimate."
Alice sighed. "So impatient. Fine. Give me a sec – "
Quiet breathing.
"Thank you, Alice." His voice was brighter.
How long?Couldn't they at least say it aloud for me? Was that too much to ask?
How many more seconds would I burn? Ten thousand? Twenty? Another day –
eighty-six thousand, four hundred? More than that?
"She's going to be dazzling."
Edward growled quietly. "She always has been."
Alice snorted. "You know what I mean.Look at her."
Edward didn't answer, but Alice's words gave me hope that maybe I didn't resemble
the charcoal briquette I felt like. It seemed as if Imust be just a pile of
charred bones by now. Every cell in my body had been razed to ash.
I heard Alice breeze out of the room. I heard the swish of the fabric she moved,
rubbing against itself. I heard the quiet buzz of the light hanging from the ceiling.
I heard the faint wind brushing against the outside of the house. I could heareverything.
Downstairs, someone was watching a ball game. The Mariners were winning by
two runs.
"It's myturn" I heard Rosalie snap at someone, and there was a low snarl in response.
"Hey, now," Emmett cautioned.
Someone hissed.
I listened for more, but there was nothing but the game. Baseball was not interesting
enough to distract me from the pain, so I listened to Edward's breathing
again, counting the seconds.
Twenty-one thousand, nine hundred seventeen and a half seconds later, the pain
changed.
On the good-news side of things, it started to fade from my fingertips and toes.
Fadingslowly, but at least it was doing something new. This had to be it. The pain
was on its way out...
And then the bad news. The fire in my throat wasn't the same as before. I wasn't
only on fire, but I was now parched, too. Dry as bone. So thirsty. Burning fire,
and burning thirst...
Also bad news: The fire inside my heart got hotter.
How was thatpossible?
My heartbeat, already too fast, picked up – the fire drove its rhythm to a new
frantic pace.
"Carlisle," Edward called. His voice was low but clear. I knew that Carlisle would
hear it, if he were in or near the house.
The fire retreated from my palms, leaving them blissfully pain-free and cool. But
it retreated to my heart, which blazed hot as the sun and beat at a furious new
speed.
Carlisle entered the room, Alice at his side. Their footsteps were so distinct, I
could even tell that Carlisle was on the right, and a foot ahead of Alice.
"Listen," Edward told them.
The loudest sound in the room was my frenzied heart, pounding to the rhythm of
the fire.
"Ah," Carlisle said. "It's almost over."
My relief at his words was overshadowed by the excruciating pain in my heart.
My wrists were free, though, and my ankles. The fire was totally extinguished
there.
"Soon," Alice agreed eagerly. "I'll get the others. Should I have Rosalie... ?"
"Yes – keep the baby away."
What? No.No! What did he mean, keep my baby away? What was he thinking?
My fingers twitched – the irritation breaking through my perfect facade. The
room went silent besides the jack-hammering of my heart as they all stopped
breathing for a second in response.
A hand squeezed my wayward fingers. "Bella? Bella, love?"
Could I answer him without screaming? I considered that for a moment, and
then the fire ripped hotter still through my chest, draining in from my elbows and
knees. Better not to chance it.
'Til bring them right up," Alice said, an urgent edge to her tone, and I heard the
swish of wind as she darted away.
And then – oh!
My heart took off, beating like helicopter blades, the sound almost a single sustained
note; it felt like it would grind through my ribs. The fire flared up in the
center of my chest, sucking the last remnants of the flames from the
rest of my body to fuel the most scorching blaze yet. The pain was enough to stun
me, to break through my iron grip on the stake. My back arched, bowed as if the
fire was dragging me upward by my heart.
I allowed no other piece of my body to break rank as my torso slumped back to
the table.
It became a battle inside me – my sprinting heart racing against the attacking
fire. Both were losing. The fire was doomed, having consumed everything that
was combustible; my heart galloped toward its last beat.
The fire constricted, concentrating inside that one remaining human organ with
a final, unbearable surge. The surge was answered by a deep, hollow-sounding
thud. My heart stuttered twice, and then thudded quietly again just once more.
There was no sound. No breathing. Not even mine.
For a moment, the absence of pain was all I could comprehend.
And then I opened my eyes and gazed above me in wonder.
20. NEW
Everything was soclear.
Sharp. Defined.
The brilliant light overhead was still blinding-bright, and yet I could plainly see
the glowing strands of the filaments inside the bulb. I could see each color of the
rainbow in the white light, and, at the very edge of the spectrum, an eighth color I
had no name for.
Behind the light, I could distinguish the individual grains in the dark wood ceiling
above. In front of it, I could see the dust motes in the air, the sides the light
touched, and the dark sides, distinct and separate. They spun like little planets,
moving around each other in a celestial dance.
The dust was so beautiful that I inhaled in shock; the air whistled down my
throat, swirling the motes into a vortex. The action felt wrong. I considered, and
realized the problem was that there was no relief tied to the action. I didn't need
the air. My lungs weren't waiting for it. They reacted indifferently to the influx.
I did not need the air, but Iliked it. In it, I could taste the room around me – taste
the lovely dust motes, the mix of the stagnant air mingling with the flow of
slightly cooler air from the open door. Taste a lush whiff of silk. Taste a faint hint
of something warm and desirable, something that should be moist, but wasn't...
That smell made my throat burn dryly, a faint echo of the venom burn, though
the scent was tainted by the bite of chlorine and ammonia. And most of all, I
could taste an almost-honey-lilac-and-sun-flavored scent that was the strongest
thing, the closest thing to me.
I heard the sound of the others, breathing again now that I did. Their breath
mixed with the scent that was something just off honey and lilac and sunshine,
bringing new flavors. Cinnamon, hyacinth, pear, seawater, rising bread, pine, vanilla,
leather, apple, moss, lavender, chocolate.... I traded a dozen different comparisons
in my mind, but none of them fit exactly. So sweet and pleasant.
The TV downstairs had been muted, and I heard someone – Rosalie? – shift her
weight on the first floor.
I also heard a faint, thudding rhythm, with a voice shouting angrily to the beat.
Rap music? I was mystified for a moment, and then the sound faded away like a
car passing by with the windows rolled down.
With a start, I realized that this could be exactly right. Could I hear all the way to
the freeway?
I didn't realize someone was holding my hand until whoever it was squeezed it
lightly. Like it had before to hide the pain, my body locked down again in surprise.
This was not a touch I expected. The skin was perfectly smooth, but it was
the wrong temperature. Not cold.
After that first frozen second of shock, my body responded to the unfamiliar
touch in a way that shocked me even more.
Air hissed up my throat, spitting through my clenched teeth with a low, menacing
sound like a swarm of bees. Before the sound was out, my muscles bunched
and arched, twisting away from the unknown. I flipped off my back in a spin so
fast it should have turned the room into an incomprehensible blur – but it did
not. I saw every dust mote, every splinter in the wood-paneled walls, every loose
thread in microscopic detail as my eyes whirled past them.
So by the time I found myself crouched against the wall defensively – about a
sixteenth of a second later – I already understood what had startled me, and that
I had overreacted.
Oh. Of course. Edward wouldn't feel cold to me. We were the same temperature
now.
I held my pose for an eighth of a second longer, adjusting to the scene before me.
Edward was leaning across the operating table that had been my pyre, his hand
reached out toward me, his expression anxious.
Edward's face was the most important thing, but my peripheral vision catalogued
everything else, just in case. Some instinct to defend had been triggered, and I
automatically searched for any sign of danger.
My vampire family waited cautiously against the far wall by the door, Emmett
and Jasper in the front. Like therewas danger. My nostrils flared, searching for
the threat. I could smell nothing out of place. That faint scent of something delicious
– but marred by harsh chemicals – tickled my throat again, setting it to
aching and burning.
Alice was peeking around Jasper's elbow with a huge grin on her face; the light
sparkled off her teeth, another eight-color rainbow.
That grin reassured me and then put the pieces together. Jasper and Emmett
were in the front to protect the others, as I had assumed. What I hadn't grasped
immediately was that / was the danger.
All this was a sideline. The greater part of my senses and my mind were still focused
on Edward's face.
I had never seen it before this second.
How many times had I stared at Edward and marveled over his beauty? How
many hours – days, weeks – of my life had I spent dreaming about what I then
deemed to be perfection? I thought I'd known his face better than my own. I'd
thought this was the one sure physical thing in my whole world: the flawlessness
of Edward's face.
I may as well have been blind.
For the first time, with the dimming shadows and limiting weakness of humanity
taken off my eyes, I saw his face. I gasped and then struggled with my vocabulary,
unable to find the right words. I needed better words.
At this point, the other part of my attention had ascertained that there was no
danger here besides myself, and I automatically straightened out of my crouch;
almost a whole second had passed since I'd been on the table.
I was momentarily preoccupied by the way my body moved. The instant I'd considered
standing erect, I was already straight. There was no brief fragment of
time in which the action occurred; change was instantaneous, almost as if there
was no movement at all.
I continued to stare at Edward's face, motionless again.
He moved slowly around the table – each step taking nearly half a second, each
step flowing sinuously like river water weaving over smooth stones – his hand
still outstretched.
I watched the grace of his advance, absorbing it with my new eyes.
"Bella?" he asked in a low, calming tone, but the worry in his voice layered my
name with tension.
I could not answer immediately, lost as I was in the velvet folds of his voice. It
was the most perfect symphony, a symphony in one instrument, an instrument
more profound than any created by man...
"Bella, love? I'm sorry, I know it's disorienting. But you're all right. Everything is
fine."
Everything? My mind spun out, spiraling back to my last human hour. Already,
the memory seemed dim, like I was watching through a thick, dark veil – because
my human eyes had been half blind. Everything had been so blurred.
When he said everything was fine, did that include Renesmee? Where was she?
With Rosalie? I tried to remember her face – I knew that she had been beautiful
– but it was irritating to try to see through the human memories. Her face was
shrouded in darkness, so poorly lit...
What about Jacob? Washe fine? Did my long-suffering best friend hate me now?
Had he gone back to Sam's pack? Seth and Leah, too?
Were the Cullens safe, or had my transformation ignited the war with the pack?
Did Edward's blanket assurance cover all of that? Or was he just trying to calm
me?
And Charlie? What would I tell him now? He must have called while I was burning.
What had they told him? What did he think had happened to me?
As I deliberated for one small piece of a second over which question to ask first,
Edward reached out tentatively and stroked his fingertips across my cheek.
Smooth as satin, soft as a feather, and now exactly matched to the temperature of
my skin.
His touch seemed to sweep beneath the surface of my skin, right through the
bones of my face. The feeling was tingly, electric – it jolted through my bones,
down my spine, and trembled in my stomach.
Wait,I thought as the trembling blossomed into a warmth, a yearning. Wasn't I
supposed to lose this? Wasn't giving up this feeling a part of the bargain?
I was a newborn vampire. The dry, scorching ache in my throat gave proof to
that. And I knew what being a newborn entailed. Human emotions and longings
would come back to me later in some form, but I'd accepted that I would not feel
them in the beginning. Only thirst. That was the deal, the price. I'd agreed to pay
it.
But as Edward's hand curled to the shape of my face like satin-covered steel, desire
raced through my dried-out veins, singing from my scalp to my toes.
He arched one perfect eyebrow, waiting for me to speak.
I threw my arms around him.
Again, it was like there was no movement. One moment I stood straight and still
as a statue; in the same instant, he was in my arms.
Warm – or at least, that was my perception. With the sweet, delicious scent that
I'd never been able to really take in with my dull human senses, but that was one
hundred percent Edward. I pressed my face into his smooth chest.
And then he shifted his weight uncomfortably. Leaned away from my embrace. I
stared up at his face, confused and frightened by the rejection.
"Urn... carefully, Bella. Ow."
I yanked my arms away, folding them behind my back as soon as I understood.
I was too strong.
"Oops," I mouthed.
He smiled the kind of smile that would have stopped my heart if it were still
beating.
"Don't panic, love," he said, lifting his hand to touch my lips, parted in horror.
"You're just a bit stronger than I am for the moment."
My eyebrows pushed together. I'd known this, too, but it felt more surreal than
any other part of this ultimately surreal moment. I was stronger than Edward. I'd
made him sayow.
His hand stroked my cheek again, and I all but forgot my distress as another
wave of desire rippled through my motionless body.
These emotions were so much stronger than I was used to that it was hard to
stick to one train of thought despite the extra room in my head. Each new sensation
overwhelmed me. I remembered Edward saying once – his voice in my head
a weak shadow compared to the crystal, musical clarity I was hearing now – that
his kind,our kind, were easily distracted. I could see why.
I made a concerted effort to focus. There was something I needed to say. The
most important thing.
Very carefully, so carefully that the movement was actually discernible, I brought
my right arm out from behind my back and raised my hand to touch his cheek. I
refused to let myself be sidetracked by the pearly color of my hand or by the
smooth silk of his skin or by the charge that zinged in my fingertips.
I stared into his eyes and heard my own voice for the first time.
"I love you," I said, but it sounded like singing. My voice rang and shimmered
like a bell.
His answering smile dazzled me more than it ever had when I was human; I
could really see it now.
"As I love you," he told me.
He took my face between his hands and leaned his face to mine – slow enough to
remind me to be careful. He
kissed me, soft as a whisper at first, and then suddenly stronger, fiercer. I tried to
remember to be gentle with him, but it was hard work to remember anything in
the onslaught of sensation, hard to hold on to any coherent thoughts.
It was like he'd never kissed me – like this was our first kiss. And, in truth, he'd
never kissed methis way before.
It almost made me feel guilty. Surely I was in breach of the contract. I couldn't be
allowed to have this, too.
Though I didn't need oxygen, my breathing sped, raced as fast as it had when I
was burning. This was a different kind of fire.
Someone cleared his throat. Emmett. I recognized the deep sound at once, joking
and annoyed at the same time.
I'd forgotten we weren't alone. And then I realized that the way I was curved
around Edward now was not exactly polite for company.
Embarrassed, I half-stepped away in another instantaneous movement.
Edward chuckled and stepped with me, keeping his arms tight around my waist.
His face was glowing – like a white flame burned from behind his diamond skin.
I took an unnecessary breath to settle myself.
How different this kissing was! I read his expression as I compared the indistinct
human memories to this clear, intense feeling. He looked... a little smug.
"You've been holding out on me," I accused in my singing voice, my eyes narrowing
a tiny bit.
He laughed, radiant with relief that it was all over – the fear, the pain, the uncertainties,
the waiting, all of it behind us now. "It was sort of necessary at the time,"
he reminded me. "Now it's your turn to not break me." He laughed again.
From
Breaking_Dawn by
Stephenie Meyersee also
Eyes Of Newborn Vampire
