The Twilight Saga Collection part 1(92)

He laughed in earnest now, understanding. “Is that what you’re getting at?”

I fidgeted, unable to answer.

“Yes, I suppose it is much the same,” he said. “I told you, most of those human desires are there, just hidden behind more powerful desires.”

“Oh,” was all I could say.

“Was there a purpose behind your curiosity?”

“Well, I did wonder . . . about you and me . . . someday . . .”

He was instantly serious, I could tell by the sudden stillness of his body. I froze, too, reacting automatically.

“I don’t think that . . . that . . . would be possible for us.”

“Because it would be too hard for you, if I were that . . . close?”

“That’s certainly a problem. But that’s not what I was thinking of. It’s just that you are so soft, so fragile. I have to mind my actions every moment that we’re together so that I don’t hurt you. I could kill you quite easily, Bella, simply by accident.” His voice had become just a soft murmur. He moved his icy palm to rest it against my cheek. “If I was too hasty . . . if for one second I wasn’t paying enough attention, I could reach out, meaning to touch your face, and crush your skull by mistake. You don’t realize how incredibly breakable you are. I can never, never afford to lose any kind of control when I’m with you.”

He waited for me to respond, growing anxious when I didn’t. “Are you scared?” he asked.

I waited for a minute to answer, so the words would be true. “No. I’m fine.”

He seemed to deliberate for a moment. “I’m curious now, though,” he said, his voice light again. “Have you ever . . . ?” He trailed off suggestively.

“Of course not.” I flushed. “I told you I’ve never felt like this about anyone before, not even close.”

“I know. It’s just that I know other people’s thoughts. I know love and lust don’t always keep the same company.”

“They do for me. Now, anyway, that they exist for me at all,” I sighed.

“That’s nice. We have that one thing in common, at least.” He sounded satisfied.

“Your human instincts . . . ,” I began. He waited. “Well, do you find me attractive, in that way, at all?”

He laughed and lightly rumpled my nearly dry hair.

“I may not be a human, but I am a man,” he assured me.

I yawned involuntarily.

“I’ve answered your questions, now you should sleep,” he insisted.

“I’m not sure if I can.”

“Do you want me to leave?”

“No!” I said too loudly.

He laughed, and then began to hum that same, unfamiliar lullaby; the voice of an archangel, soft in my ear.

More tired than I realized, exhausted from the long day of mental and emotional stress like I’d never felt before, I drifted to sleep in his cold arms.





15. THE CULLENS


THE MUTED LIGHT OF YET ANOTHER CLOUDY DAY eventually woke me. I lay with my arm across my eyes, groggy and dazed. Something, a dream trying to be remembered, struggled to break into my consciousness. I moaned and rolled on my side, hoping more sleep would come. And then the previous day flooded back into my awareness.

“Oh!” I sat up so fast it made my head spin.

“Your hair looks like a haystack . . . but I like it.” His unruffled voice came from the rocking chair in the corner.

“Edward! You stayed!” I rejoiced, and thoughtlessly threw myself across the room and into his lap. In the instant that my thoughts caught up with my actions, I froze, shocked by my own uncontrolled enthusiasm. I stared up at him, afraid that I had crossed the wrong line.

But he laughed.

“Of course,” he answered, startled, but seeming pleased by my reaction. His hands rubbed my back.

I laid my head cautiously against his shoulder, breathing in the smell of his skin.

“I was sure it was a dream.”

“You’re not that creative,” he scoffed.

“Charlie!” I remembered, thoughtlessly jumping up again and heading to the door.

“He left an hour ago — after reattaching your battery cables, I might add. I have to admit I was disappointed. Is that really all it would take to stop you, if you were determined to go?”

I deliberated where I stood, wanting to return to him badly, but afraid I might have morning breath.

“You’re not usually this confused in the morning,” he noted. He held his arms open for me to return. A nearly irresistible invitation.

“I need another human minute,” I admitted.

“I’ll wait.”

I skipped to the bathroom, my emotions unrecognizable. I didn’t know myself, inside or out. The face in the mirror was practically a stranger — eyes too bright, hectic spots of red across my cheekbones. After I brushed my teeth, I worked to straighten out the tangled chaos that was my hair. I splashed my face with cold water, and tried to breathe normally, with no noticeable success. I half-ran back to my room.