He was missing the point.
"Edward," I said, nervous, staring at a freckle on my wrist. "There's something that I want to do before I'm not human anymore."
He waited for me to continue. I didn't. My face was all hot.
"Whatever you want," he encouraged, anxious and completely clueless.
"Do you promise?" I muttered, knowing my attempt to trap him with his words was not going to work, but unable to resist.
"Yes," he said. I looked up to see that his eyes were earnest and confused. "Tell me what you want, and you can have it."
I couldn't believe how awkward and idiotic I felt. I was too innocent -- which was, of course, central to the discussion. I didn't have the faintest idea how to be seductive. I would just have to settle for flushed and self-conscious.
"You," I mumbled almost incoherently.
"I'm yours." He smiled, still oblivious, trying to hold my gaze as I looked away again.
I took a deep breath and shifted forward so that I was kneeling on the bed. Then I wrapped my arms around his neck and kissed him.
He kissed me back, bewildered but willing. His lips were gentle against mine, and I could tell his mind was elsewhere -- trying to figure out what was on my mind. I decided he needed a hint.
My hands were slightly shaky as I unlocked my arms from around his neck. My fingers slid down his neck to the collar of his shirt. The trembling didn't help as I tried to hurry to undo the buttons before he stopped me.
His lips froze, and I could almost hear the click in his head as he put together my words and my actions.
He pushed me away at once, his face heavily disapproving.
"Be reasonable, Bella."
"You promised -- whatever I wanted," I reminded him without hope.
"We're not having this discussion." He glared at me while he refastened the two buttons I'd managed to open.
My teeth clamped together.
"I say we are," I growled. I moved my hands to my blouse and yanked open the top button.
He grabbed my wrists and pinned them to my sides.
"I say we're not," he said flatly.
We glowered at each other.
"You wanted to know," I pointed out.
"I thought it would be something faintly realistic."
"So you can ask for any stupid, ridiculous thing you want -- like getting married -- but I'm not allowed to even discuss what I --"
While I was ranting, he pulled my hands together to restrain them in just one of his, and put his other hand over my mouth.
"No." His face was hard.
I took a deep breath to steady myself. And, as the anger began to fade, I felt something else.
It took me a minute to recognize why I was staring down again, the blush returning -- why my stomach felt uneasy, why there was too much moisture in my eyes, why I suddenly wanted to run from the room.
Rejection washed through me, instinctive and strong.
I knew it was irrational. He'd been very clear on other occasions that my safety was the only factor. Yet I'd never made myself quite so vulnerable before. I scowled at the golden comforter that matched his eyes and tried to banish the reflex reaction that told me I was unwanted and unwantable.
Edward sighed. The hand over my mouth moved under my chin, and he pulled my face up until I had to look at him.
"What now?"
"Nothing," I mumbled.
He scrutinized my face for long moment while I tried unsuccessfully to twist away from his gaze. His brow furrowed, and his expression became horrified.
"Did I hurt your feelings?" he asked, shocked.
"No," I lied.
So quickly that I wasn't even sure how it happened, I was in his arms, my face cradled between his shoulder and his hand, while his thumb stroked reassuringly against my cheek.
"You know why I have to say no," he murmured. "You know that I want you, too."
"Do you?" I whispered, my voice full of doubt.
"Of course I do, you silly, beautiful, oversensitive girl." He laughed once, and then his voice was bleak. "Doesn't everyone? I feel like there's a line behind me, jockeying for position, waiting for me to make a big enough mistake. . . . You're too desirable for your own good."
"Who's being silly now?" I doubted if awkward, self-conscious, and inept added up to desirable in anyone's book.
"Do I have to send a petition around to get you to believe? Shall I tell you whose names would be on the top of the list? You know a few of them, but some might surprise you."
I shook my head against his chest, grimacing. "You're just trying to distract me. Let's get back to the subject."
He sighed.
"Tell me if I have anything wrong." I tried to sound detached. "Your demands are marriage" -- I couldn't say the word without making a face -- "paying my tuition, more time, and you wouldn't mind if my vehicle went a little faster." I raised my eyebrows. "Did I get everything? That's a hefty list."
"Only the first is a demand." He seemed to be having a hard time keeping a straight face. "The others are merely requests."
"And my lone, solitary little demand is --"
"Demand?" he interrupted, suddenly serious again.
"Yes, demand."
His eyes narrowed.
"Getting married is a stretch for me. I'm not giving in unless I get something in return."
He leaned down to whisper in my ear. "No," he murmured silkily. "It's not possible now. Later, when you're less breakable. Be patient, Bella."
I tried to keep my voice firm and reasonable. "But that's the problem. It won't be the same when I'm less breakable. I won't be the same! I don't know who I'll be then."
"You'll still be Bella," he promised.
I frowned. "If I'm so far gone that I'd want to kill Charlie -- that I'd drink Jacob's blood or Angela's if I got the chance -- how can that be true?"
"It will pass. And I doubt you'll want to drink the dog's blood." He pretended to shudder at the thought. "Even as a newborn, you'll have better taste than that."
I ignored his attempt to sidetrack me. "But that will always be what I want most, won't it?" I challenged. "Blood, blood, and more blood!"
"The fact that you are still alive is proof that that is not true," he pointed out.
"Over eighty years later," I reminded him. "What I meant was physically, though. Intellectually, I know I'll be able to be myself . . . after a while. But just purely physically -- I will always be thirsty, more than anything else."
He didn't answer.
"So I will be different," I concluded unopposed. "Because right now, physically, there's nothing I want more than you. More than food or water or oxygen. Intellectually, I have my priorities in a slightly more sensible order. But physically . . ."
I twisted my head to kiss the palm of his hand.
He took a deep breath. I was surprised that it sounded a little unsteady.
"Bella, I could kill you," he whispered.
"I don't think you could."
Edward's eyes tightened. He lifted his hand from my face and reached quickly behind himself for something I couldn't see. There was a muffled snapping sound, and the bed quivered beneath us.
Something dark was in his hand; he held it up for my curious examination. It was a metal flower, one of the roses that adorned the wrought iron posts and canopy of his bed frame. His hand closed for a brief second, his fingers contracting gently, and then it opened again.
Without a word, he offered me the crushed, uneven lump of black metal. It was a cast of the inside of his hand, like a piece of play dough squeezed in a child's fist. A half-second passed, and the shape crumbled into black sand in his palm.
I glared. "That's not what I meant. I already know how strong you are. You didn't have to break the furniture."
"What did you mean then?" he asked in a dark voice, tossing the handful of iron sand to the corner of the room; it hit the wall with a sound like rain.
His eyes were intent on my face as I struggled
to explain.
"Obviously not that you aren't physically able hurt me, if you wanted to . . . More that, you don't want to hurt me . . . so much so that I don't think that you ever could."
He started shaking his head before I was done.
"It might not work like that, Bella."
"Might," I scoffed. "You have no more idea what you're talking about than I do."
"Exactly. Do you imagine I would ever take that kind of risk with you?"
I stared into his eyes for a long minute. There was no sign of compromise, no hint of indecision in them.
"Please," I finally whispered, hopeless. "It's all I want. Please." I closed my eyes in defeat, waiting for the quick and final no.
But he didn't answer immediately. I hesitated in disbelief, stunned to hear that his breathing was uneven again.
I opened my eyes, and his face was torn.
"Please?" I whispered again, my heartbeat picking up speed. My words tumbled out as I rushed to take advantage of the sudden uncertainty in his eyes. "You don't have to make me any guarantees. If it doesn't work out right, well, then that's that. Just let us try . . . only try. And I'll give you what you want," I promised rashly. "I'll marry you. I'll let you pay for Dartmouth, and I won't complain about the bribe to get me in. You can even buy me a fast car if that makes you happy! Just . . . please."
His icy arms tightened around me, and his lips were at my ear; his cool breath made me shiver. "This is unbearable. So many things I've wanted to give you -- and this is what you decide to demand. Do you have any idea how painful it is, trying to refuse you when you plead with me this way?"
"Then don't refuse," I suggested breathlessly.
He didn't respond.
"Please," I tried again.
"Bella . . ." He shook his head slowly, but it didn't feel like a denial as his face, his lips, moved back and forth across my throat. It felt more like surrender. My heart, racing already, spluttered frantically.
Again, I took what advantage I could. When his face turned toward mine with the slow movement of his indecision, I twisted quickly in his arms till my lips reached his. His hands seized my face, and I thought he was going to push me away again.
I was wrong.
His mouth was not gentle; there was a brand-new edge of conflict and desperation in the way his lips moved. I locked my arms around his neck, and, to my suddenly overheated skin, his body felt colder than ever. I trembled, but it was not from the chill.
He didn't stop kissing me. I was the one who had to break away, gasping for air. Even then his lips did not leave my skin, they just moved to my throat. The thrill of victory was a strange high; it made me feel powerful. Brave. My hands weren't unsteady now; I got through with the buttons on his shirt this time easily, and my fingers traced the perfect planes of his icy chest. He was too beautiful. What was the word he'd used just now? Unbearable -- that was it. His beauty was too much to bear. . . .
I pulled his mouth back to mine, and he seemed just as eager as I was. One of his hands still cupped my face, his other arm was tight around my waist, straining me closer to him. It made it slightly more difficult as I tried to reach the front of my shirt, but not impossible.
Cold iron fetters locked around my wrists, and pulled my hands above my head, which was suddenly on a pillow.
His lips were at my ear again. "Bella," he murmured, his voice warm and velvet. "Would you please stop trying to take your clothes off?"
"Do you want to do that part?" I asked, confused.
"Not tonight," he answered softly. His lips were slower now against my cheek and jaw, all the urgency gone.
"Edward, don't --," I started to argue.
"I'm not saying no," he reassured me. "I'm just saying not tonight."
I thought about that while my breathing slowed.
"Give me one good reason why tonight is not as good as any other night." I was still breathless; it made the frustration in my voice less impressive.
"I wasn't born yesterday." He chuckled in my ear. "Out of the two of us, which do you think is more unwilling to give the other what they want? You just promised to marry me before you do any changing, but if I give in tonight, what guarantee do I have that you won't go running off to Carlisle in the morning? I am -- clearly -- much less reluctant to give you what you want. Therefore . . . you first."
I exhaled with a loud huff. "I have to marry you first?" I asked in disbelief.
"That's the deal -- take it or leave it. Compromise, remember?"
His arms wrapped around me, and he began kissing me in a way that should be illegal. Too persuasive -- it was duress, coercion. I tried to keep a clear head . . . and failed quickly and absolutely.
"I think that's a really bad idea," I gasped when he let me breathe.
"I'm not surprised you feel that way." He smirked. "You have a one-track mind."
"How did this happen?" I grumbled. "I thought I was holding my own tonight -- for once -- and now, all of a sudden --"
"You're engaged," he finished.
"Ew! Please don't say that out loud."
"Are you going back on your word?" he demanded. He pulled away to read my face. His expression was entertained. He was having fun.
I glared at him, trying to ignore the way his smile made my heart react.
"Are you?" he pressed.
"Ugh!" I groaned. "No. I'm not. Are you happy now?"
His smile was blinding. "Exceptionally."
I groaned again.
"Aren't you happy at all?"
He kissed me again before I could answer. Another too-persuasive kiss.
"A little bit," I admitted when I could speak. "But not about getting married."
He kissed me another time. "Do you get the feeling that everything is backward?" he laughed in my ear. "Traditionally, shouldn't you be arguing my side, and I yours?"
"There isn't much that's traditional about you and me."
"True."
He kissed me again, and kept going until my heart was racing and my skin was flushed.
"Look, Edward," I murmured, my voice wheedling, when he paused to kiss the palm of my hand. "I said I would marry you, and I will. I promise. I swear. If you want, I'll sign a contract in my own blood."
"Not funny," he murmured against the inside of my wrist.
"What I'm saying is this -- I'm not going to trick you or anything. You know me better than that. So there's really no reason to wait. We're completely alone -- how often does that happen? -- and you've provided this very large and comfortable bed. . . ."
"Not tonight," he said again.
"Don't you trust me?"
"Of course I do."
Using the hand that he was still kissing, I pulled his face back up to where I could see his expression.
"Then what's the problem? It's not like you didn't know you were going to win in the end." I frowned and muttered, "You always win."
"Just hedging my bets," he said calmly.
"There's something else," I guessed, my eyes narrowing. There was a defensiveness about his face, a faint hint of some secret motive he was trying to hide behind his casual manner. "Are you planning to go back on your word?"
"No," he promised solemnly. "I swear to you, we will try. After you marry me."
I shook my head, and laughed glumly. "You make me feel like a villain in a melodrama -- twirling my mustache while I try to steal some poor girl's virtue."
His eyes were wary as they flashed across my face, then he quickly ducked down to press his lips against my collarbone.
"That's it, isn't it?" The short laugh that escaped me was more shocked than amused. "You're trying to protect your virtue!" I covered my mouth with my hand to muffle the giggle that followed. The words were so . . . old-fashioned.
"No, silly girl," he muttered against my shoulder. "I'm trying to protect yours. And you're making it shockingly difficult."
"Of all the ridiculous --"
"Let me ask you something," he interrupted quickly. "We'
ve had this discussion before, but humor me. How many people in this room have a soul? A shot at heaven, or whatever there is after this life?"
"Two," I answered immediately, my voice fierce.
"All right. Maybe that's true. Now, there's a world full of dissension about this, but the vast majority seem to think that there are some rules that have to be followed."
"Vampire rules aren't enough for you? You want to worry about the human ones too?"
"It couldn't hurt." He shrugged. "Just in case."
I glared at him through narrowed eyes.
"Now, of course, it might be too late for me, even if you are right about my soul."
"No, it isn't," I argued angrily.
"'Thou shalt not kill' is commonly accepted by most major belief systems. And I've killed a lot of people, Bella."
"Only the bad ones."
He shrugged. "Maybe that counts, maybe it doesn't. But you haven't killed anyone --"
"That you know about," I muttered.
He smiled, but otherwise ignored the interruption. "And I'm going to do my best to keep you out of temptation's way."
"Okay. But we weren't fighting over committing murder," I reminded him.
"The same principle applies -- the only difference is that this is the one area in which I'm just as spotless as you are. Can't I leave one rule unbroken?"
"One?"
"You know that I've stolen, I've lied, I've coveted . . . my virtue is all I have left." He grinned crookedly.
"I lie all the time."
"Yes, but you're such a bad liar that it doesn't really count. Nobody believes you."
"I really hope you're wrong about that -- because otherwise Charlie is about to burst through the door with a loaded gun."
"Charlie is happier when he pretends to swallow your stories. He'd rather lie to himself than look too closely." He grinned at me.
"But what did you ever covet?" I asked doubtfully. "You have everything."
"I coveted you." His smile darkened. "I had no right to want you -- but I reached out and took you anyway. And now look what's become of you! Trying to seduce a vampire." He shook his head in mock horror.
"You can covet what's already yours," I informed him. "Besides, I thought it was my virtue you were worried about."
"It is. If it's too late for me . . . Well, I'll be damned -- no pun intended -- if I'll let them keep you out, too."
"You can't make me go somewhere you won't be," I vowed. "That's my definition of hell. Anyway, I have an easy solution to all this: let's never die, all right?"
"Sounds simple enough. Why didn't I think of that?"