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She lay very still, moving just once to yank her hair away from her face. It fanned out over her head, a river of chestnut. And then she was motionless again.
Her breathing slowed. After several long minutes her lips began to tremble. Mumbling in her sleep.
Impossible to resist. I listened as far out as I could, catching voices in the houses nearby.
Two tablespoons of flour…one cup of milk…
C’mon! Get it through the hoop! Aw, c’mon!
Red, or blue…or maybe I should wear something more casual…
There was no one close by. I jumped to the ground, landing silently on my toes.
This was very wrong, very risky. How condescendingly I’d once judged Emmett for his thoughtless ways and Jasper for his lack of discipline—and now I was consciously flouting all the rules with a wild abandon that made their lapses look like nothing at all. I used to be the responsible one.
I sighed, but crept out into the sunshine, regardless.
I avoided looking at myself in the sun’s glare. It was bad enough that my skin was stone and inhuman in shadow; I didn’t want to look at Bella and myself side by side in the sunlight. The difference between us was already insurmountable, painful enough without this image also in my head.
But I couldn’t ignore the rainbow sparkles that reflected onto her skin when I got closer. My jaw locked at the sight. Could I be any more of a freak? I imagined her terror if she opened her eyes now…
I started to retreat, but she mumbled again, holding me there.
“Mmm… Mmm.”
Nothing intelligible. Well, I would wait for a bit.
I carefully stole her book, stretching my arm out and holding my breath while I was close, just in case. I started breathing again when I was a few yards away, tasting the way the sunshine and open air affected her scent. The heat seemed to sweeten the smell. My throat flamed with desire, the fire fresh and fierce again because I had been away from her for too long. （C） 2008 Stephenie Meyer
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I spent a moment controlling that, and then—forcing myself to breathe through my nose—I let her book fall open in my hands. She’d started with the first book… I flipped through the pages quickly to the third chapter of Sense and Sensibility, searching for something potentially offensive in Austen’s overly polite prose.
When my eyes stopped automatically at my name—the character Edward Ferrars being introduced for the first time—Bella spoke again.
“Mmm. Edward.” She sighed.
This time I did not fear that she had awoken. Her voice was just a low, wistful murmur. Not the scream of fear it would have been if she’d seen me now.
Joy warred with selfloathing. She was still dreaming of me, at least.
“Edmund. Ahh. Too…close…”
Edmund?
Ha! She wasn’t dreaming of me at all, I realized blackly. The selfloathing returned in force. She was dreaming of fictional characters. So much for my conceit.
I replaced her book, and stole back into the cover of the shadows—where I belonged.
The afternoon passed and I watched, feeling helpless again, as the sun slowly sank in the sky and the shadows crawled across the lawn toward her. I wanted to push them back, but the darkness was inevitable; the shadows took her. When the light was gone, her skin looked too pale—ghostly. Her hair was dark again, almost black against her face.
It was a frightening thing to watch—like witnessing Alice’s visions come to fruition. Bella’s steady, strong heartbeat was the only reassurance, the sound that kept this moment from feeling like a nightmare.
I was relieved when her father arrived home.
I could hear little from him as he drove down the street toward the house. Some vague annoyance…in the past, something from his day at work. Expectation mixed with hunger—I guessed that he was looking forward to dinner. But his thoughts were so quiet and contained that I could not be sure I was right; I only got the gist of them.
I wondered what her mother sounded like—what the genetic combination had been that had formed her so uniquely. （C） 2008 Stephenie Meyer
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Bella started awake, jerking up to a sitting position when the tires of her father’s car hit the brick driveway. She stared around herself, seeming confused by the unexpected darkness. For one brief moment, her eyes touched the shadows where I hid, but they flickered quickly away.
“Charlie?” she asked in a low voice, still peering into the trees surrounding the small yard.
The door of his car slammed shut, and she looked to the sound. She got to her feet quickly and gathered her things, casting one more look back toward the woods.
I moved into a tree closer to the back window near the small kitchen, and listened to their evening. It was interesting to compare Charlie’s words to his muffled thoughts. His love and concern for his only daughter were nearly overwhelming, and yet his words were always terse and casual. Most of the time, they sat in companionable silence.
I heard her discuss her plans for the following evening in Port Angeles, and I refined my own plans as I listened. Jasper had not warned Peter and Charlotte to stay clear of Port Angeles. Though I knew that they had fed recently and had no intention of hunting any where in the vicinity of our home, I would watch her, just in case. After all, there were always others of my kind out there. And then, all those human dangers that I had never much considered before now.
I heard her worry aloud about leaving her father to prepare dinner alone, and smiled at this proof to my theory—yes, she was a caretaker.
And then I left, knowing I would return when she was asleep.
I would not trespass on her privacy the way the peeping tom would have. I was here for her protection, not to leer at her in the way Mike Newton no doubt would, were he agile enough to move through the treetops the way I could. I would not treat her so crassly.
My house was empty when I returned, which was fine by me. I didn’t miss the confused or disparaging thoughts, questioning my sanity. Emmett had left a note stuck to the newel post.
Football at the Rainier field—c’mon! Please?
I found a pen and scrawled the word sorry beneath his plea. The teams were even without me, in any case. （C） 2008 Stephenie Meyer
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I went for the shortest of hunting trips, contenting myself with the smaller, gentler creatures that did not taste as good as the hunters, and then changed into fresh clothes before I ran back to Forks.
Bella did not sleep as well tonight. She thrashed in her blankets, her face sometimes worried, sometimes sad. I wondered what nightmare haunted her…and then realized that perhaps I really didn’t want to know.
When she spoke, she mostly muttered derogatory things about Forks in a glum voice. Only once, when she sighed out the words “Come back” and her hand twitched open—a wordless plea—did I have a chance to hope she might be dreaming of me.
The next day of school, the last day the sun would hold me prisoner, was much the same as the day before. Bella seemed even gloomier than yesterday, and I wondered if she would bow out of her plans—she didn’t seem in the mood.
But, being Bella, she would probably put her friends’ enjoyment above that of her own.
She wore a deep blue blouse today, and the color set her skin off perfectly, making it look like fresh cream.
School ended, and Jessica agreed to pick the other girls up—Angela was going, too, for which I was grateful.
I went home to get my car. When I found that Peter and Charlotte were there, I decided could afford to give the girls an hour or so for a head start. I would never be able to bear following behind them, driving at the speed limit—hideous thought.
I came in through the kitchen, nodding vaguely at Emmett’s and Esme’s greetings as I passed by everyone in the front room and went straight to the piano.
Ugh, he’s back. Rosalie, of course.
Ah, Edward. I hate to see him suffering so. Esme’s joy was becoming marred by concern. She should be concerned. This love story she envisioned for me was careening toward a tragedy more perceptibly every moment.
Have fun in Port Angeles tonight, Alice thought cheerfully. Let me know when I’m allowed to talk to Bella.
You’re pathetic. I can’t believe you missed the game last night just to watch somebody sleep, Emmett grumbled. （C） 2008 Stephenie Meyer
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Jasper paid me no mind, even when the song I played came out a little more stormily than I’d intended. It was an old song, with a familiar theme: impatience. Jasper was saying goodbye to his friends, who eyed me curiously.
What a strange creature, the Alicesized, whiteblond Charlotte was thinking. And he was so normal and pleasant the last time we met.
Peter’s thoughts were in sync with hers, as was usually the case.
It must be the animals. The lack of human blood drives them mad eventually, he was concluding. His hair was just as fair as hers, and almost as long. They were very similar—except for size, as he was almost as tall as Jasper—in both look and thought. A well matched pair, I’d always thought.
Everyone but Esme stopped thinking about me after a moment, and I played in more subdued tones so that I would not attract notice.
I did not pay attention to them for a long while, just letting the music distract me from my unease. It was hard to have the girl out of sight and mind. I only returned my attention to their conversation when the goodbyes grew more final.
“If you see Maria again,” Jasper was saying, a little warily, “tell her I wish her well.”
Maria was the vampire who had created both Jasper and Peter—Jasper in the latter half of the nineteenth century, Peter more recently, in the nineteen forties. She’d looked Jasper up once when we were in Calgary. It had been an eventful visit—we’d had to move immediately. Jasper had politely asked her to keep her distance in the future.
“I don’t imagine that will happen soon,” Peter said with a laugh—Maria was undeniable dangerous and there was not much love lost between her and Peter. Peter had, after all, been instrumental in Jasper’s defection. Jasper had always been Maria’s favorite; she considered it a minor detail that she had once planned to kill him. “But, should it happen, I certainly will.”
They were shaking hands then, preparing to depart. I let the song I was playing trail off to an unsatisfying end, and got hastily to my feet.
“Charlotte, Peter,” I said, nodding.
“It was nice to see you again, Edward,” Charlotte said doubtfully. Peter just nodded in return. （C） 2008 Stephenie Meyer
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Madman, Emmett threw after me.
Idiot, Rosalie thought at the same time.
Poor boy. Esme.
And Alice, in a chiding tone. They’re going straight east, to Seattle. No where near Port Angeles. She showed me the proof in her visions.
I pretended I hadn’t heard that. My excuses were already flimsy enough.
Once in my car, I felt more relaxed; the robust purr of the engine Rosalie had boosted for me—last year, when she was in a better mood—was soothing.
It was a relief to be in motion, to know that I was getting closer to Bella with every mile that flew away under my tires. （C） 2008 Stephenie Meyer
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9. Port Angeles It was too bright for me to drive into town when I got to Port Angeles; the sun was still too high overhead, and, though my windows were tinted dark, there was no reason to take unnecessary risks. More unnecessary risks, I should say.
I was certain I would be able to find Jessica’s thoughts from a distance—Jessica’s thoughts were louder than Angela’s, but once I found the first, I’d be able to hear the second. Then, when the shadows lengthened, I could get closer. For now, I pulled off the road onto an overgrown driveway just outside the town that appeared to be infrequently used.
I knew the general direction to search in—there was really only one place for dress shopping in Port Angeles. It wasn’t long before I found Jessica, spinning in front of a three way mirror, and I could see Bella in her peripheral vision, appraising the long black dress she wore.
Bella still looks pissed. Ha ha. Angela was right—Tyler was full of it. I can’t believe she’s so upset about it, though. At least she knows she has a back up date for the prom. What if Mike doesn’t have fun at the dance, and he doesn’t ask me out again? What if he asks Bella to the prom? Would she have asked Mike to the dance if I hadn’t said anything? Does he think she’s prettier than me? Does she think she’s prettier than me?
“I think I like the blue one better. It really brings out your eyes.”
Jessica smiled at Bella with false warmth, while eyeing her suspiciously.
Does she really think that? Or does she want me to look like a cow on Saturday?
I was already tired of listening to Jessica. I searched close by for Angela—ah, but Angela was in the process of changing dresses, and I skipped quickly out of her head to give her some privacy.
Well, there wasn’t much trouble Bella could get into in a department store. I’d let them shop and then catch up with them when they were done. It wouldn’t be long until it was dark—the clouds were beginning to return, drifting in from the west. I could only catch glimpses of them through the thick trees, but I could see how they would hurry the （C） 2008 Stephenie Meyer
168 sunset. I welcomed them, craved them more than I had ever yearned for their shadows before. Tomorrow I could sit beside Bella in school again, monopolize her attention at lunch again. I could ask her all the questions I’d been saving up…
So, she was furious about Tyler’s presumption. I’d seen that in his head—that he’d meant it literally when he’d spoken of the prom, that he was staking a claim. I pictured her expression from that other afternoon—the outraged disbelief—and I laughed. I wondered what she would say to him about this. I wouldn’t want to miss her reaction.
The time went slowly while I waited for the shadows to lengthen. I checked in periodically with Jessica; her mental voice was the easiest to find, but I didn’t like to linger there long. I saw the place they were planning to eat. It would be dark by dinner time…maybe I would coincidentally choose the same restaurant. I touched the phone in my pocket, thinking of inviting Alice out to eat… She would love that, but she would also want to talk to Bella. I wasn’t sure if I was ready to have Bella more involved with my world. Wasn’t one vampire trouble enough?
I checked in routinely with Jessica again. She was thinking about her jewelry, asking Angela’s opinion.
“Maybe I should take the necklace back. I’ve got one at home that would probably work, and I spent more than I was supposed to…” My mom is going to freak out. What was I thinking?
“I don’t mind going back to the store. Do you think Bella will be looking for us, though?”
What was this? Bella wasn’t with them? I stared through Jessica’s eyes first, then switched to Angela’s. They were on the sidewalk in front of a line of shops, just turning back the other way. Bella was no where in sight.
Oh, who cares about Bella? Jess thought impatiently, before answering Angela’s question. “She’s fine. We’ll get to the restaurant in plenty of time, even if we go back. Anyway, I think she wanted to be alone.”
I got a brief glimpse of the bookshop Jessica thought Bella had gone to.
“Let’s hurry, then,” Angela said. I hope Bella doesn’t think we ditched her. She was so nice to me in the car before… She’s really a sweet person. But she’s seemed kind （C） 2008 Stephenie Meyer
169 of blue all day. I wonder if it’s because of Edward Cullen? I’ll bet that was why she was asking about his family…
I should have been paying better attention. What all had I missed here? Bella was off wandering by herself, and she’d been asking about me before? Angela was paying attention to Jessica now—Jessica was babbling about that idiot Mike—and I could get nothing more from her.
I judged the shadows. The sun would be behind the clouds soon enough. If I stayed on the west side of the road, where the buildings would shade the street from the fading light…
I started to feel anxious as I drove through the sparse traffic into the center of the town. This wasn’t something I had considered—Bella taking off on her own—and I had no idea how to find her. I should have considered it.
I knew Port Angeles well; I drove straight to the bookstore in Jessica’s head, hoping my search would be short, but doubting it would be so easy. When did Bella ever make it easy?
Sure enough, the little shop was empty except for the anachronistically dressed woman behind the counter. This didn’t look like the kind of place Bella would be interested in—too new age for a practical person. I wondered if she’d even bothered to go in?
There was a patch of shade I could park in… It made a dark pathway right up to the overhang of the shop. I really shouldn’t. Wandering around in the sunlight hours was not safe. What if a passing car threw the sun’s reflection into the shade at just the wrong moment?
But I didn’t know how else to look for Bella!
I parked and got out, keeping to the deepest side of the shadow. I strode quickly into the store, noting the faint trace of Bella’s scent in the air. She had been here, on the sidewalk, but there was no hint of her fragrance inside the shop.
“Welcome! Can I help—” the saleswoman began to say, but I was already out the door.
I followed Bella’s scent as far as the shade would allow, stopping when I got to the edge of the sunlight. （C） 2008 Stephenie Meyer
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How powerless it made me feel—fenced in by the line between dark and light that stretched across the sidewalk in front of me. So limited.
I could only guess that she’d continued across the street, heading south. There wasn’t really much in that direction. Was she lost? Well, that possibility didn’t sound entirely out of character.
I got back in the car and drove slowly through the streets, looking for her. I stepped out into a few other patches of shadow, but I only caught her scent once more, and the direction of it confused me. Where was she trying to go?
I drove back and forth between the bookstore and the restaurant a few times, hoping to see her on her way. Jessica and Angela were already there, trying to decide whether to order, or to wait for Bella. Jessica was pushing for ordering immediately.
I began flitting through the minds of strangers, looking through their eyes. Surely, someone must have seen her somewhere.
I got more and more anxious the longer she remained missing. I hadn’t considered before how difficult she might prove to find once, like now, she was out of my sight and off her normal paths. I didn’t like it.
The clouds were massing on the horizon, and, in a few more minutes, I would be free to track her on foot. It wouldn’t take me long then. It was only the sun that made me so helpless now. Just few more minutes, and then the advantage would be mine again and it would be the human world that was powerless.
Another mind, and another. So many trivial thoughts.
…think the baby has another ear infection…
Was it sixfour oh or sixohfour…？
Late again. I ought to tell him…
Here she comes! Aha!
There, at last, was her face. Finally, someone had noticed her!
The relief lasted for only a fraction of a second, and then I read more fully the thoughts of the man who was gloating over her face in the shadows.
His mind was a stranger to me, and yet, not totally unfamiliar. I had once hunted exactly such minds. （C） 2008 Stephenie Meyer
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“NO!” I roared, and a volley of snarls erupted from my throat. My foot shoved the gas pedal to the floor, but where was I going?
I knew the general location of his thoughts, but the knowledge was not specific enough. Something, there had to be something—a street sign, a store front, something in his sight that would give away his location. But Bella was deep in shadow, and his eyes were focused only on her frightened expression—enjoying the fear there.
Her face was blurred in his mind by the memory of other faces. Bella was not his first victim.
The sound of my growls shook the frame of the car, but did not distract me.
There were no windows in the wall behind her. Somewhere industrial, away from the more populated shopping district. My car squealed around a corner, swerving past another vehicle, heading in what I hoped was the right direction. By the time the other driver honked, the sound was far behind me.
Look at her shaking! The man chuckled in anticipation. The fear was the draw for him—the part he enjoyed.
“Stay away from me.” Her voice was low and steady, not a scream.
“Don’t be like that, sugar.”
He watched her flinch to a rowdy laugh that came from another direction. He was irritated with the noise—Shut up, Jeff! he thought—but he enjoyed the way she cringed. It excited him. He began to imagine her pleas, the way she would beg…
I hadn’t realized that there were others with him until I’d heard the loud laughter. I scanned out from him, desperate for something that I could use. He was taking the first step in her direction, flexing his hands.
The minds around him were not the cesspool that his was. They were all slightly intoxicated, not one of them realizing how far the man they called Lonnie planned to go with this. They were following Lonnie’s lead blindly. He’d promised them a little fun…
One of them glanced down the street, nervous—he didn’t want to get caught harassing the girl—and gave me what I needed. I recognized the cross street he stared toward.
I flew under a red light, sliding through a space just wide enough between two cars in the moving traffic. Horns blared behind me. （C） 2008 Stephenie Meyer
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My phone vibrated in my pocket. I ignored it.
Lonnie moved slowly toward the girl, drawing out the suspense—the moment of terror that aroused him. He waited for her scream, preparing to savor it.
But Bella locked her jaw and braced herself. He was surprised—he’d expected her to try to run. Surprised and slightly disappointed. He liked to chase his prey down, the adrenaline of the hunt.
Brave, this one. Maybe better, I guess…more fight in her.
I was a block away. The monster could hear the roar of my engine now, but he paid it no attention, too intent on his victim.
I would see how he enjoyed the hunt when he was the prey. I would see what he thought of my style of hunting.
In another compartment of my head, I was already sorting through the range of tortures I’d born witness to in my vigilante days, searching for the most painful of them. He would suffer for this. He would writhe in agony. The others would merely die for their part, but the monster named Lonnie would beg for death long before I would give him that gift.
He was in the road, crossing toward her.
I spun sharply around the corner, my headlights washing across the scene and freezing the rest of them in place. I could have run down the leader, who leapt out of the way, but that was too easy a death for him.
I let the car spin out, swinging all the way around so that I was facing back the way I’d come and the passenger door was closest to Bella. I threw that open, and she was already running toward the car.
“Get in,” I snarled.
What the hell?
Knew this was a bad idea! She’s not alone.
Should I run?
Think I’m going to throw up…
Bella jumped through the open door without hesitating, pulling the door shut behind her. （C） 2008 Stephenie Meyer
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And then she looked up at me with the most trustful expression I had ever seen on a human face, and all my violent plans crumbled.
It took much, much less than a second for me to see that I could not leave her in the car in order to deal with the four men in the street. What would I tell her, not to watch? Ha! When did she ever do what I asked? When did she ever do the safe thing?
Would I drag them away, out of her sight, and leave her alone here? It was a long shot that another dangerous human would be prowling the streets of Port Angeles tonight, but it was a long shot that there was even the first! Like a magnet, she drew all things dangerous toward herself. I could not let her out of my sight.
It would feel like part of the same motion to her as I accelerated, taking her away from her pursuers so quickly that they gaped after my car with uncomprehending expressions. She would not recognize my instant of hesitation. She would assume the plan was escape from the beginning.
I couldn’t even hit him with my car. That would frighten her.
I wanted his death so savagely that the need for it rang in my ears and clouded my sight and was a flavor on my tongue. My muscles were coiled with the urgency, the craving, the necessity of it. I had to kill him. I would peel him slowly apart, piece by piece, skin from muscle, muscle from bone…
Except that the girl—the only girl in the world—was clinging to her seat with both hands, staring at me, her eyes still wide and utterly trusting. Vengeance would have to wait.
“Put on your seatbelt,” I ordered. My voice was rough with the hate and bloodlust. Not the usual bloodlust. I would not sully myself by taking any part of that man inside me.
She locked the seatbelt into place, jumping slightly at the sound it made. That little sound made her jump, yet she did not flinch as I tore through the town, ignoring all traffic guides. I could feel her eyes on me. She seemed oddly relaxed. It didn’t make sense to me—not with what she’d just been through.
“Are you okay?” she asked, her voice rough with stress and fear.
She wanted to know if I was okay? （C） 2008 Stephenie Meyer
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I thought about her question for a fraction of a second. Not long enough for her to notice the hesitation. Was I okay?
“No,” I realized, and my tone seethed with rage.
I took her to the same unused drive where I’d spent the afternoon engaged in the poorest surveillance ever kept. It was black now under the trees.
I was so furious that my body froze in place there, utterly motionless. My ice locked hands ached to crush her attacker, to grind him into pieces so mangled that his body could never be identified…
But that would entail leaving her here alone, unprotected in the dark night.
“Bella?” I asked through my teeth.
“Yes?” she responded huskily. She cleared her throat.
“Are you all right?” That was really the most important thing, the first priority. Retribution was secondary. I knew that, but my body was so filled with rage that it was hard to think.
“Yes.” Her voice was still thick—with fear, no doubt.
And so I could not leave her.
Even if she wasn’t at constant risk for some infuriating reason—some joke the universe was playing on me—even if I could be sure that she would be perfectly safe in my absence, I could not leave her alone in the dark.
She must be so frightened.
Yet I was in no condition to comfort her—even if I knew exactly how that was to be accomplished, which I did not. Surely she could feel the brutality radiating out of me, surely that much was obvious. I would frighten her even more if I could not calm the lust for slaughter boiling inside me.
I needed to think about something else.
“Distract me, please,” I pleaded.
“I’m sorry, what?”
I barely had enough control to try to explain what I needed.
“Just prattle about something unimportant until I calm down,” I instructed, my jaw still locked. Only the fact that she needed me held me inside the car. I could hear the （C） 2008 Stephenie Meyer
175 man’s thoughts, his disappointment and anger… I knew where to find him… I closed my eyes, wishing that I couldn’t see anyway…
“Um…” She hesitated—trying to make sense of my request, I imagined. “I’m going to run over Tyler Crowley tomorrow before school?” She said this like it was a question.
Yes—this was what I needed. Of course Bella would come up with something unexpected. Like it had been before, the threat of violence coming through her lips was hilarious—so comical it was jarring. If I had not been burning with the urge to kill, I would have laughed.
“Why?” I barked out, to force her to speak again.
“He’s telling everyone that he’s taking me to prom,” she said, her voice filled with her tigerkitten outrage. “Either he’s insane or he’s still trying to make up for almost killing me last…well you remember it,” she inserted dryly, “and he thinksprom is somehow the correct way to do this. So I figure if I endanger his life, then we’re even, and he can’t keep trying to make amends. I don’t need enemies and maybe Lauren would back off if he left me alone. I might have to total his Sentra, though,” she went on, thoughtful now. “If he doesn’t have a ride he can’t take anyone to prom…”
It was encouraging to see that she sometimes got things wrong. Tyler’s persistence had nothing to do with the accident. She didn’t seem to understand the appeal she held for the human boys at the high school. Did she not see the appeal she had for me, either?
Ah, it was working. The baffling processes of her mind were always engrossing. I was beginning to gain control of myself, to see something beyond vengeance and torture…
“I heard about that,” I told her. She had stopped talking, and I needed her to continue.
“You did?” she asked incredulously. And then her voice was angrier than before. “If he’s paralyzed from the neck down, he can’t go to the prom either.”
I wished there was someway I could ask her to continue with the threats of death and bodily harm with out sounding insane. She couldn’t have picked a better way to （C） 2008 Stephenie Meyer
176 calm me. And her words—just sarcasm in her case, hyperbole—were a reminder I dearly needed in this moment.
I sighed, and opened my eyes.
“Better?” she asked timidly.
“Not really.”
No, I was calmer, but not better. Because I’d just realized that I could not kill the monster named Lonnie, and I still wanted that more than almost anything else in the world. Almost.
The only thing in this moment that I wanted more than to commit a highly justifiable murder, was this girl. And, though I couldn’t have her, just the dream of having her made it impossible for me to go on a killing spree tonight—no matter how defensible such a thing might be.
Bella deserved better than a killer.
I’d spent seven decades trying to be something other than that—anything other than a killer. Those years of effort could never make me worthy of the girl sitting beside me. And yet, I felt that if I returned to that life—the life of a killer—for even one night, I would surely put her out of my reach forever. Even if I didn’t drink their blood—even if I didn’t have that evidence blazing red in my eyes—wouldn’t she sense the difference?
I was trying to be good enough for her. It was an impossible goal. I would keep trying.
“What’s wrong?” she whispered.
Her breath filled my nose, and I was reminded why I could not deserve her. After all of this, even with as much as I loved her…she still made my mouth water.
I would give her as much honesty as I could. I owed her that.
“Sometimes I have a problem with my temper, Bella.” I stared out into the black night, wishing both that she would hear the horror inherent in my words and also that she would not. Mostly that she would not. Run, Bella, run. Stay, Bella, stay.
“But it wouldn’t be helpful for me to turn around and hunt down those…” Just thinking about it almost pulled me from the car. I took a deep breath, letting her scent scorch down my throat. “At least, that’s what I’m trying to convince myself.”
“Oh.” （C） 2008 Stephenie Meyer
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She said nothing else. How much had she heard in my words? I glanced at her furtively, but her face was unreadable. Blank with shock, perhaps. Well, she wasn’t screaming. Not yet.
It was quiet for a moment. I warred with myself, trying to be what I should be. What I couldn’t be.
“Jessica and Angela will be worried,” she said quietly. Her voice was very calm, and I was not sure how that could be. Was she in shock? Maybe tonight’s events hadn’t sunk in for her yet. “I was supposed to meet them.”
Did she want to be away from me? Or was she just worried about her friends’ worry?
I didn’t answer her, but I started the car and took her back. Every inch closer I got to the town, the harder it was to hold on to my purpose. I was just so close to him…
If it was impossible—if I could never have nor deserve this girl—then where was the sense in letting the man go unpunished? Surely I could allow myself that much…
No. I wasn’t giving up. Not yet. I wanted her too much to surrender.
We were at the restaurant where she was supposed to meet her friends before I’d even begun to make sense of my thoughts. Jessica and Angela were finished eating, and both now truly worried about Bella. They were on their way to search for her, heading off along the dark street.
It was not a good night for them to be wandering—
“How did you know where…？” Bella’s unfinished question interrupted me, and I realized that I had made yet another gaffe. I’d been too distracted to remember to ask her where she was supposed to meet her friends.
But, instead of finishing the inquiry and pressing the point, Bella just shook her head and halfsmiled.
What did that mean?
Well, I didn’t have time to puzzle over her strange acceptance of my stranger knowledge. I opened my door.
“What are you doing?” she asked, sounding startled.
Not letting you out of my sight. Not allowing myself to be alone tonight. In that order. “I’m taking you to dinner.” （C） 2008 Stephenie Meyer
178
Well this should be interesting. It seemed like another night entirely when I’d imagined bringing Alice along and pretending to choose the same restaurant as Bella and her friends by accident. And now, here I was, practically on a date with the girl. Only it didn’t count, because I wasn’t giving her a chance to say no.
She already had her door half open before I’d walked around the car—it wasn’t usually so frustrating to have to move at an inconspicuous speed—instead of waiting for me to get it for her. Was this because she wasn’t used to being treated like a lady, or because she didn’t think of me as a gentleman?
I waited for her to join me, getting more anxious as her girlfriends continued in toward the dark corner.
“Go stop Jessica and Angela before I have to track them down, too,” I ordered quickly. “I don’t think I could restrain myself if I ran into your other friends again.” No, I would not be strong enough for that.
She shuddered, and then quickly collected herself. She took half a step after them, calling, “Jess! Angela!” in a loud voice. They turned, and she waved her arm over her head to catch their attention.
Bella! Oh, she’s safe! Angela thought with relief.
Late much? Jessica grumbled to herself, but she, too, was thankful that Bella wasn’t lost or hurt. This made me like her a little more than I had.
They hurried back, and then stopped, shocked, when they saw me beside her.
Uhuh! Jess thought, stunned. No freaking way!
Edward Cullen? Did she go away by herself to find him? But why would she ask about them being out of town if she knew he was here… I got a brief flash of Bella’s mortified expression when she’d asked Angela if my family was often absent from school. No, she couldn’t have known, Angela decided.
Jessica’s thoughts were moving past the surprise and on to suspicion. Bella’s been holding out on me.
“Where have you been?” she demanded, staring at Bella, but peeking at me from the corner of her eye.
“I got lost. And then I ran into Edward,” Bella said, waving one hand toward me. Her tone was remarkably normal. Like that was truly all that had happened. （C） 2008 Stephenie Meyer
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She must be in shock. That was the only explanation for her calm.
“Would it be all right if I joined you?” I asked—to be polite; I knew that they’d already eaten.
Holy crap but he’s hot! Jessica thought, her head suddenly slightly incoherent.
Angela wasn’t much more composed.
Wish we hadn’t eaten. Wow. Just. Wow.
Now why couldn’t I do that to Bella?
“Er…sure,” Jessica agreed.
Angela frowned. “Um, actually, Bella, we already ate while we were waiting,” she admitted. “Sorry.”
What? Shut up! Jess complained internally.
Bella shrugged casually. So at ease. Definitely in shock. “That’s fine—I’m not hungry.”
“I think you should eat something,” I disagreed. She needed sugar in her bloodstream—though it smelled sweet enough as it was, I thought wryly. The horror was going to come crashing down on her momentarily, and an empty stomach wouldn’t help. She was an easy fainter, as I knew from experience.
These girls wouldn’t be in any danger if they went straight home. Danger didn’t stalk their every step.
And I’d rather be alone with Bella—as long as she was willing to be alone with me.
“Do you mind if I drive Bella home tonight?” I said to Jessica before Bella could respond. “That way you won’t have to wait while she eats.”
“Uh, no problem, I guess…” Jessica stared intently at Bella, looking for some sign that this was what she wanted.
I want to stay…but she probably wants him to herself. Who wouldn’t? Jess thought. At the same time, she watched Bella wink.
Bella winked?
“Okay,” Angela said quickly, in a hurry to be out of the way if that was what Bella wanted. And it seemed that she did want that. “See you tomorrow, Bella…Edward.” She struggled to say my name in a casual tone. Then she grabbed Jessica’s hand and began towing her away. （C） 2008 Stephenie Meyer
180
I would have to find some way to thank Angela for this.
Jessica’s car was close by and in a bright circle of light cast by a streetlamp. Bella watched them carefully, a little crease of concern between her eyes, until they were in the car, so she must be fully aware of the danger she’d been in. Jessica waved as she drove away, and Bella waved back. It wasn’t until the car disappeared that she took a deep breath and turned to look up at me.
