He could drive well, when he kept the speed reasonable, I had to admit.

 

Like so many things, it seemed to be effortless to him. He barely lookedat the road, yet the tires never deviated¹ so much as a centimeter fromthe center of the lane. He drove one-handed, holding my hand on the seat.

 

Sometimes he gazed into the setting sun, sometimes he glanced at me — myface, my hair blowing out the open window, our hands twined together.

 

He had turned the radio to an oldies station, and he sang along with asong I'd never heard. He knew every line.

 

"You like fifties music?" I asked.

 

"Music in the fifties was good. Much better than the sixties, or theseventies, ugh!" He shuddered². "The eighties were bearable.""Are you ever going to tell me how old you are?" I asked, tentative, notwanting to upset his buoyant humor.

 

"Does it matter much?" His smile, to my relief, remained unclouded.

 

"No, but I still wonder…" I grimaced³. "There's nothing like an unsolvedmystery to keep you up at night.""I wonder if it will upset you," he reflected to himself. He gazed intothe sun; the minutes passed.

 

"Try me," I finally said.

 

He sighed, and then looked into my eyes, seeming to forget the roadcompletely for a time. Whatever he saw there must have encouraged him. Helooked into the sun — the light of the setting orb⁴ glittered off his skinin ruby-tinged sparkles — and spoke⁵.

 

"I was born in Chicago in 1901." He paused and glanced at me from thecorner of his eyes. My face was carefully unsurprised, patient for therest. He smiled a tiny smile and continued. "Carlisle found me in ahospital in the summer of 1918. I was seventeen, and dying of the Spanishinfluenza."He heard my intake⁶ of breath, though it was barely audible to my ownears. He looked down into my eyes again.

 

"I don't remember it well — it was a very long time ago, and humanmemories fade." He was lost in his thoughts for a short time before hewent on. "I do remember how it felt, when Carlisle saved me. It's not aneasy thing, not something you could forget.""Your parents?""They had already died from the disease. I was alone. That was why hechose me. In all the chaos⁷ of the epidemic⁸, no one would ever realize Iwas gone.""How did he… save you?"A few seconds passed before he answered. He seemed to choose his wordscarefully.

 

"It was difficult. Not many of us have the restraint necessary toaccomplish it. But Carlisle has always been the most humane⁹, the mostcompassionate of us… I don't think you could find his equal throughoutall of history." He paused. "For me, it was merely very, very painful."I could tell from the set of his lips, he would say no more on thissubject. I suppressed my curiosity, though it was far from idle. Therewere many things I needed to think through on this particular issue,things that were only beginning to occur to me. No doubt his quick mindhad already comprehended every aspect that eluded¹¹ me.

 

His soft voice interrupted my thoughts. "He acted from loneliness. That'susually the reason behind the choice. I was the first in Carlisle'sfamily, though he found Esme soon after. She fell from a cliff. Theybrought her straight to the hospital morgue, though, somehow, her heartwas still beating.""So you must be dying, then, to become…" We never said the word, and Icouldn't frame it now.

 

"No, that's just Carlisle. He would never do that to someone who hadanother choice." The respect in his voice was profound whenever he spokeof his father figure. "It is easier he says, though," he continued, "ifthe blood is weak." He looked at the now-dark road, and I could feel thesubject closing again.

 

"And Emmett and Rosalie?""Carlisle brought Rosalie to our family next. I didn't realize till muchlater that he was hoping she would be to me what Esme was to him — he wascareful with his thoughts around me." He rolled his eyes. "But she wasnever more than a sister. It was only two years later that she foundEmmett. She was hunting — we were in Appalachia at the time — and found abear about to finish him off. She carried him back to Carlisle, more thana hundred miles, afraid she wouldn't be able to do it herself. I'm onlybeginning to guess how difficult that journey was for her." He threw apointed glance in my direction, and raised our hands, still foldedtogether, to brush my cheek with the back of his hand.

 

"But she made it," I encouraged, looking away from the unbearable¹³ beautyof his eyes.

 

"Yes," he murmured. "She saw something in his face that made her strongenough. And they've been together ever since. Sometimes they liveseparately from us, as a married couple. But the younger we pretend tobe, the longer we can stay in any given place. Forks seemed perfect, sowe all enrolled¹⁵ in high school." He laughed. "I suppose we'll have to goto their wedding in a few years, again.""Alice and Jasper?""Alice and Jasper are two very rare creatures. They both developed aconscience, as we refer to it, with no outside guidance. Jasper belongedto another… family, a very different kind of family. He became depressed,and he wandered on his own. Alice found him. Like me, she has certaingifts above and beyond the norm for our kind.""Really?" I interrupted, fascinated. "But you said you were the only onewho could hear people's thoughts.""That's true. She knows other things. She sees things — things that mighthappen, things that are coming. But it's very subjective¹⁶. The futureisn't set in stone. Things change."His jaw¹⁷ set when he said that, and his eyes darted¹⁸ to my face and away soquickly that I wasn't sure if I only imagined it.

 

"What kinds of things does she see?""She saw Jasper and knew that he was looking for her before he knew ithimself. She saw Carlisle and our family, and they came together to findus. She's most sensitive to non-humans. She always sees, for example,when another group of our kind is coming near. And any threat they maypose.""Are there a lot of… your kind?" I was surprised. How many of them couldwalk among us undetected?

 

"No, not many. But most won't settle in any one place. Only those likeus, who've given up hunting you people" — a sly glance in my direction —"can live together with humans for any length of time. We've only foundone other family like ours, in a small village in Alaska. We livedtogether for a time, but there were so many of us that we became toonoticeable. Those of us who live… differently tend to band together.""And the others?""Nomads¹⁹, for the most part. We've all lived that way at times. It getstedious, like anything else. But we run across the others now and then,because most of us prefer the North.""Why is that?"We were parked in front of my house now, and he'd turned off the truck.

 

It was very quiet and dark; there was no moon. The porch light was off soI knew my father wasn't home yet.

 

"Did you have your eyes open this afternoon?" he teased. "Do you think Icould walk down the street in the sunlight without causing trafficaccidents? There's a reason why we chose the Olympic Peninsula, one ofthe most sunless places in the world. It's nice to be able to go outsidein the day. You wouldn't believe how tired you can get of nighttime ineighty-odd years.""So that's where the legends came from?""Probably.""And Alice came from another family, like Jasper?""No, and that is a mystery. Alice doesn't remember her human life at all.

 

And she doesn't know who created her. She awoke alone. Whoever made herwalked away, and none of us understand why, or how, he could. If shehadn't had that other sense, if she hadn't seen Jasper and Carlisle andknown that she would someday become one of us, she probably would haveturned into a total savage²⁰."There was so much to think through, so much I still wanted to ask. But,to my great embarrassment²¹, my stomach growled²². I'd been so intrigued²³, Ihadn't even noticed I was hungry. I realized now that I was ravenous²⁴.

 

"I'm sorry, I'm keeping you from dinner.""I'm fine, really.""I've never spent much time around anyone who eats food. I forget.""I want to stay with you." It was easier to say in the darkness, knowingas I spoke how my voice would betray me, my hopeless addiction²⁵ to him.

 

"Can't I come in?" he asked.

 

"Would you like to?" I couldn't picture it, this godlike creature sittingin my father's shabby kitchen chair.

 

"Yes, if it's all right." I heard the door close quietly, and almostsimultaneously he was outside my door, opening it for me.

 

"Very human," I complimented him.

 

"It's definitely resurfacing."He walked beside me in the night, so quietly I had to peek²⁶ at himconstantly to be sure he was still there. In the darkness he looked muchmore normal. Still pale, still dreamlike in his beauty, but no longer thefantastic sparkling creature of our sunlit afternoon.

 

He reached the door ahead of me and opened it for me. I paused halfwaythrough the frame.

 

"The door was unlocked?""No, I used the key from under the eave."I stepped inside, flicked²⁷ on the porch light, and turned to look at himwith my eyebrows²⁹ raised. I was sure I'd never used that key in front ofhim.

 

"I was curious about you.""You spied on me?" But somehow I couldn't infuse my voice with the properoutrage. I was flattered.

 

He was unrepentant. "What else is there to do at night?"I let it go for the moment and went down the hall to the kitchen. He wasthere before me, needing no guide. He sat in the very chair I'd tried topicture him in. His beauty lit up the kitchen. It was a moment before Icould look away.

 

I concentrated on getting my dinner, taking last night's lasagna from thefridge, placing a square on a plate, heating it in the microwave. Itrevolved, filling the kitchen with the smell of tomatoes and oregano. Ididn't take my eyes from the plate of food as I spoke.

 

"How often?" I asked casually³⁰.

 

"Hmmm?" He sounded as if I had pulled him from some other train ofthought.

 

I still didn't turn around. "How often did you come here?""I come here almost every night."I whirled, stunned³¹. "Why?""You're interesting when you sleep." He spoke matter-of-factly. "Youtalk.""No!" I gasped³², heat flooding my face all the way to my hairline. Igripped the kitchen counter for support. I knew I talked in my sleep, ofcourse; my mother teased me about it. I hadn't thought it was something Ineeded to worry about here, though.

 

His expression shifted instantly to chagrin³³. "Are you very angry with me?""That depends!" I felt and sounded like I'd had the breath knocked out ofme.

 

He waited.

 

"On?" he urged.

 

"What you heard!" I wailed³⁴.

 

Instantly, silently, he was at my side, taking my hands carefully in his.

 

"Don't be upset!" he pleaded. He dropped his face to the level of myeyes, holding my gaze. I was embarrassed. I tried to look away.

 

"You miss your mother," he whispered. "You worry about her. And when itrains, the sound makes you restless. You used to talk about home a lot,but it's less often now. Once you said, 'It's too green.'" He laughedsoftly, hoping, I could see, not to offend me further.

 

"Anything else?" I demanded.

 

He knew what I was getting at. "You did say my name," he admitted.

 

I sighed in defeat. "A lot?""How much do you mean by 'a lot,' exactly?""Oh no!" I hung my head.

 

He pulled me against his chest, softly, naturally.

 

"Don't be self-conscious," he whispered in my ear. "If I could dream atall, it would be about you. And I'm not ashamed of it."Then we both heard the sound of tires on the brick driveway, saw theheadlights flash through the front windows, down the hall to us. Istiffened in his arms.

 

"Should your father know I'm here?" he asked.

 

"I'm not sure…" I tried to think it through quickly.

 

"Another time then…"And I was alone.

 

"Edward!" I hissed³⁵.

 

I heard a ghostly chuckle³⁶, then nothing else.

 

My father's key turned in the door.

 

"Bella?" he called. It had bothered me before; who else would it be?

 

Suddenly he didn't seem so far off base.

 

"In here." I hoped he couldn't hear the hysterical³⁷ edge to my voice. Igrabbed my dinner from the microwave and sat at the table as he walkedin. His footsteps sounded so noisy after my day with Edward.

 

"Can you get me some of that? I'm bushed³⁸." He stepped on the heels of hisboots to take them off, holding the back of Edward's chair for support.

 

I took my food with me, scarfing it down as I got his dinner. It burnedmy tongue. I filled two glasses with milk while his lasagna was heating,and gulped³⁹ mine to put out the fire. As I set the glass down, I noticedthe milk trembling and realized my hand was shaking. Charlie sat in thechair, and the contrast between him and its former occupant was comical.

 

"Thanks," he said as I placed his food on the table.

 

"How was your day?" I asked. The words were rushed; I was dying to escapeto my room.

 

"Good. The fish were biting… how about you? Did you get everything donethat you wanted to?""Not really — it was too nice out to stay indoors." I took another bigbite.

 

"It was a nice day," he agreed. What an understatement, I thought tomyself.

 

Finished with the last bite of lasagna, I lifted my glass and chugged theremains of my milk.

 

Charlie surprised me by being observant. "In a hurry?""Yeah, I'm tired. I'm going to bed early.""You look kinda keyed up," he noted⁴⁰. Why, oh why, did this have to be hisnight to pay attention?

 

"Do I?" was all I could manage in response. I quickly scrubbed my dishesclean in the sink, and placed them upside down on a dish towel to dry.

 

"It's Saturday," he mused⁴¹.

 

I didn't respond.

 

"No plans tonight?" he asked suddenly.

 

"No, Dad, I just want to get some sleep.""None of the boys in town your type, eh?" He was suspicious, but tryingto play it cool.

 

"No, none of the boys have caught my eye yet." I was careful not toover-emphasize the word boys in my quest to be truthful⁴² with Charlie.

 

"I thought maybe that Mike Newton… you said he was friendly.""He's Just a friend, Dad.""Well, you're too good for them all, anyway. Wait till you get to collegeto start looking." Every father's dream, that his daughter will be out ofthe house before the hormones⁴³ kick in.

 

"Sounds like a good idea to me," I agreed as I headed up the stairs.

 

"'Night, honey," he called after me. No doubt he would be listeningcarefully all evening, waiting for me to try to sneak⁴⁴ out.

 

"See you in the morning, Dad." See you creeping into my room tonight atmidnight to check on me.

 

I worked to make my tread sound slow and tired as I walked up the stairsto my room. I shut the door loud enough for him to hear, and thensprinted on my tiptoes to the window. I threw it open and leaned out intothe night. My eyes scanned the darkness, the impenetrable shadows of thetrees.

 

"Edward?" I whispered, feeling completely idiotic⁴⁵.

 

The quiet, laughing response came from behind me. "Yes?"I whirled, one hand flying to my throat in surprise.

 

He lay, smiling hugely, across my bed, his hands behind his head, hisfeet dangling⁴⁶ off the end, the picture of ease.

 

"Oh!" I breathed, sinking unsteadily to the floor.

 

"I'm sorry." He pressed his lips together, trying to hide his amusement.

 

"Just give me a minute to restart my heart."He sat up slowly, so as not to startle me again. Then he leaned forwardand reached out with his long arms to pick me up, gripping the tops of myarms like I was a toddler. He sat me on the bed beside him.

 

"Why don't you sit with me," he suggested, putting a cold hand on mine.

 

"How's the heart?""You tell me — I'm sure you hear it better than I do."I felt his quiet laughter shake the bed.

 

We sat there for a moment in silence, both listening to my heartbeatslow. I thought about having Edward in my room, with my father in thehouse.

 

"Can I have a minute to be human?" I asked.

 

"Certainly." He gestured with one hand that I should proceed.

 

"Stay," I said, trying to look severe.

 

"Yes, ma'am." And he made a show of becoming a statue on the edge of mybed.

 

I hopped⁴⁷ up, grabbing my pajamas⁴⁸ from off the floor, my bag of toiletriesoff the desk. I left the light off and slipped out, closing the door.

 

I could hear the sound from the TV rising up the stairs. I banged thebathroom door loudly, so Charlie wouldn't come up to bother me.

 

I meant to hurry. I brushed my teeth fiercely, trying to be thorough andspeedy, removing all traces of lasagna. But the hot water of the showercouldn't be rushed. It unknotted the muscles in my back, calmed my pulse.

 

The familiar smell of my shampoo made me feel like I might be the sameperson I had been this morning. I tried not to think of Edward, sittingin my room, waiting, because then I had to start all over with thecalming process. Finally, I couldn't delay anymore. I shut off the water,toweling hastily, rushing again. I pulled on my holey t-shirt and graysweatpants. Too late to regret not packing the Victoria's Secret silkpajamas my mother got me two birthdays ago, which still had the tags onthem in a drawer somewhere back home.

 

I rubbed the towel through my hair again, and then yanked the brushthrough it quickly. I threw the towel in the hamper⁴⁹, flung my brush andtoothpaste into my bag. Then I dashed down the stairs so Charlie couldsee that I was in my pajamas, with wet hair.

 

"'Night, Dad.""'Night, Bella." He did look startled by my appearance. Maybe that wouldkeep him from checking on me tonight.

 

I took the stairs two at a time, trying to be quiet, and flew into myroom, closing the door tightly behind me.

 

Edward hadn't moved a fraction of an inch, a carving⁵⁰ of Adonis perched onmy faded quilt. I smiled, and his lips twitched⁵¹, the statue coming tolife.

 

His eyes appraised⁵² me, taking in the damp hair, the tattered⁵³ shirt. Heraised one eyebrow²⁸. "Nice."I grimaced.

 

"No, it looks good on you.""Thanks," I whispered. I went back to his side, sitting cross-leggedbeside him. I looked at the lines in the wooden floor.

 

"What was all that for?""Charlie thinks I'm sneaking⁵⁴ out.""Oh." He contemplated⁵⁵ that. "Why?" As if he couldn't know Charlie's mindmuch more clearly than I could guess.

 

"Apparently⁵⁶, I look a little overexcited."He lifted my chin, examining my face.

 

"You look very warm, actually."He bent⁵⁷ his face slowly to mine, laying his cool cheek against my skin. Iheld perfectly⁵⁸ still.

 

"Mmmmmm…" he breathed.

 

It was very difficult, while he was touching⁵⁹ me, to frame a coherentquestion. It took me a minute of scattered⁶⁰ concentration to begin.

 

"It seems to be… much easier for you, now, to be close to me.""Does it seem that way to you?" he murmured, his nose gliding⁶¹ to thecorner of my jaw. I felt his hand, lighter⁶² than a moth's wing, brushingmy damp hair back, so that his lips could touch the hollow beneath my ear.

 

"Much, much easier," I said, trying to exhale⁶³.

 

"Hmm.""So I was wondering…" I began again, but his fingers were slowly tracingmy collarbone, and I lost my train of thought.

 

"Yes?" he breathed.

 

"Why is that," my voice shook, embarrassing me, "do you think?"I felt the tremor⁶⁴ of his breath on my neck as he laughed. "Mind overmatter."I pulled back; as I moved, he froze — and I could no longer hear thesound of his breathing.

 

We stared cautiously at each other for a moment, and then, as hisclenched jaw gradually relaxed, his expression became puzzled.

 

"Did I do something wrong?""No — the opposite. You're driving me crazy," I explained.

 

He considered that briefly⁶⁵, and when he spoke, he sounded pleased.

 

"Really?" A triumphant⁶⁶ smile slowly lit his face.

 

"Would you like a round of applause?" I asked sarcastically⁶⁷.

 

He grinned.

 

"I'm just pleasantly surprised," he clarified. "In the last hundred yearsor so," his voice was teasing, "I never imagined anything like this. Ididn't believe I would ever find someone I wanted to be with… in anotherway than my brothers and sisters. And then to find, even though it's allnew to me, that I'm good at it… at being with you…""You're good at everything," I pointed¹² out.

 

He shrugged⁶⁹, allowing that, and we both laughed in whispers.

 

"But how can it be so easy now?" I pressed. "This afternoon…""It's not easy," he sighed. "But this afternoon, I was still… undecided.

 

I am sorry about that, it was unforgivable for me to behave so.""Not unforgivable," I disagreed.

 

"Thank you." He smiled. "You see," he continued, looking down now, "Iwasn't sure if I was strong enough…" He picked up one of my hands andpressed it lightly to his face. "And while there was still thatpossibility that I might be… overcome" — he breathed in the scent⁷¹ at mywrist — "I was… susceptible⁷². Until I made up my mind that I was strongenough, that there was no possibility at all that I would… that I evercould…"I'd never seen him struggle so hard for words. It was so… human.

 

"So there's no possibility now?""Mind over matter," he repeated, smiling, his teeth bright even in thedarkness.

 

"Wow, that was easy," I said.

 

He threw back his head and laughed, quietly as a whisper, but stillexuberantly.

 

"Easy for you!" he amended⁷³, touching my nose with his fingertip.

 

And then his face was abruptly⁷⁴ serious.

 

"I'm trying," he whispered, his voice pained. "If it gets to be… toomuch, I'm fairly sure I'll be able to leave."I scowled⁷⁵. I didn't like the talk of leaving.

 

"And it will be harder tomorrow," he continued. "I've had the scent ofyou in my head all day, and I've grown amazingly desensitized. If I'maway from you for any length of time, I'll have to start over again. Notquite from scratch, though, I think.""Don't go away, then," I responded, unable to hide the longing⁷⁶ in myvoice.

 

"That suits me," he replied, his face relaxing into a gentle smile.

 

"Bring on the shackles⁷⁷ — I'm your prisoner." But his long hands formedmanacles around my wrists as he spoke. He laughed his quiet, musicallaugh. He'd laughed more tonight than I'd ever heard in all the time I'dspent with him.

 

"You seem more… optimistic than usual," I observed. "I haven't seen youlike this before.""Isn't it supposed to be like this?" He smiled. "The glory of first love,and all that. It's incredible, isn't it, the difference between readingabout something, seeing it in the pictures, and experiencing it?""Very different," I agreed. "More forceful than I'd imagined.""For example" — his words flowed swiftly now, I had to concentrate tocatch it all — "the emotion of jealousy⁷⁹. I've read about it a hundredthousand times, seen actors portray⁸⁰ it in a thousand different plays andmovies. I believed I understood that one pretty clearly. But it shockedme…" He grimaced. "Do you remember the day that Mike asked you to thedance?"I nodded, though I remembered that day for a different reason. "The dayyou started talking to me again.""I was surprised by the flare⁸¹ of resentment⁸², almost fury, that I felt — Ididn't recognize what it was at first. I was even more aggravated⁸³ thanusual that I couldn't know what you were thinking, why you refused him.

 

Was it simply for your friend's sake? Was there someone else? I knew Ihad no right to care either way. I tried not to care.

 

"And then the line started forming," he chuckled⁸⁴. I scowled in thedarkness.

 

"I waited, unreasonably⁸⁵ anxious to hear what you would say to them, towatch your expressions. I couldn't deny the relief I felt, watching theannoyance on your face. But I couldn't be sure.

 

"That was the first night I came here. I wrestled⁸⁶ all night, whilewatching you sleep, with the chasm⁸⁷ between what I knew was right, moral,ethical, and what I wanted. I knew that if I continued to ignore you as Ishould, or if I left for a few years, till you were gone, that somedayyou would say yes to Mike, or someone like him. It made me angry.

 

"And then," he whispered, "as you were sleeping, you said my name. Youspoke so clearly, at first I thought you'd woken. But you rolled overrestlessly and mumbled⁸⁸ my name once more, and sighed. The feeling thatcoursed through me then was unnerving, staggering. And I knew I couldn'tignore you any longer." He was silent for a moment, probably listening tothe suddenly uneven⁸⁹ pounding of my heart.

 

"But jealousy… it's a strange thing. So much more powerful than I wouldhave thought. And irrational⁹⁰! Just now, when Charlie asked you about thatvile Mike Newton…" He shook his head angrily.

 

"I should have known you'd be listening," I groaned⁹¹.

 

"Of course.""That made you feel jealous, though, really?""I'm new at this; you're resurrecting the human in me, and everythingfeels stronger because it's fresh.""But honestly," I teased, "for that to bother you, after I have to hearthat Rosalie — Rosalie, the incarnation of pure beauty, Rosalie — wasmeant for you. Emmett or no Emmett, how can I compete with that?""There's no competition." His teeth gleamed. He drew my trapped handsaround his back, holding me to his chest. I kept as still as I could,even breathing with caution.

 

"I know there's no competition," I mumbled into his cold skin. "That'sthe problem.""Of course Rosalie is beautiful in her way, but even if she wasn't like asister to me, even if Emmett didn't belong with her, she could never haveone tenth, no, one hundredth of the attraction you hold for me." He wasserious now, thoughtful. "For almost ninety years I've walked among mykind, and yours… all the time thinking I was complete in myself, notrealizing what I was seeking. And not finding anything, because youweren't alive yet.""It hardly seems fair," I whispered, my face still resting on his chest,listening to his breath come and go. "I haven't had to wait at all. Whyshould I get off so easily?""You're right," he agreed with amusement. "I should make this harder foryou, definitely." He freed one of his hands, released my wrist, only togather it carefully into his other hand. He stroked my wet hair softly,from the top of my head to my waist. "You only have to risk your lifeevery second you spend with me, that's surely not much. You only have toturn your back on nature, on humanity… what's that worth?""Very little — I don't feel deprived of anything.""Not yet." And his voice was abruptly full of ancient grief.

 

I tried to pull back, to look in his face, but his hand locked my wristsin an unbreakable hold.

 

"What —" I started to ask, when his body became alert. I froze, but hesuddenly released my hands, and disappeared. I narrowly avoided fallingon my face.

 

"Lie down!" he hissed. I couldn't tell where he spoke from in thedarkness.

 

I rolled under my quilt, balling up on my side, the way I usually slept.

 

I heard the door crack open, as Charlie peeked⁹² in to make sure I waswhere I was supposed to be. I breathed evenly, exaggerating the movement.

 

A long minute passed. I listened, not sure if I'd heard the door close.

 

Then Edward's cool arm was around me, under the covers, his lips at myear.

 

"You are a terrible actress — I'd say that career path is out for you.""Darn it," I muttered. My heart was crashing in my chest.

 

He hummed a melody I didn't recognize; it sounded like a lullaby.

 

He paused. "Should I sing you to sleep?""Right," I laughed. "Like I could sleep with you here!""You do it all the time," he reminded me.

 

"But I didn't know you were here," I replied icily.

 

"So if you don't want to sleep…" he suggested, ignoring my tone. Mybreath caught.

 

"If I don't want to sleep… ?"He chuckled. "What do you want to do then?"I couldn't answer at first.

 

"I'm not sure," I finally said.

 

"Tell me when you decide."I could feel his cool breath on my neck, feel his nose sliding along myjaw, inhaling⁹³.

 

"I thought you were desensitized.""Just because I'm resisting the wine doesn't mean I can't appreciate thebouquet," he whispered. "You have a very floral smell, like lavender… orfreesia," he noted. "It's mouthwatering.""Yeah, it's an off day when I don't get somebody telling me how edible⁷⁸ Ismell."He chuckled, and then sighed.

 

"I've decided⁷⁰ what I want to do," I told him. "I want to hear more aboutyou.""Ask me anything."I sifted⁹⁴ through my questions for the most vital. "Why do you do it?" Isaid. "I still don't understand how you can work so hard to resist whatyou… are. Please don't misunderstand, of course I'm glad that you do. Ijust don't see why you would bother in the first place."He hesitated before answering. "That's a good question, and you are notthe first one to ask it. The others — the majority of our kind who arequite content with our lot — they, too, wonder at how we live. But yousee, just because we've been… dealt a certain hand… it doesn't mean thatwe can't choose to rise above — to conquer the boundaries of a destinythat none of us wanted. To try to retain whatever essential humanity wecan."I lay unmoving, locked in awed⁹⁵ silence.

 

"Did you fall asleep?" he whispered after a few minutes.

 

"No.""Is that all you were curious about?"I rolled my eyes. "Not quite.""What else do you want to know?""Why can you read minds — why only you? And Alice, seeing the future… whydoes that happen?"I felt him shrug⁶⁸ in the darkness. "We don't really know. Carlisle has atheory… he believes that we all bring something of our strongest humantraits with us into the next life, where they are intensified⁹⁶ — like ourminds, and our senses. He thinks that I must have already been verysensitive to the thoughts of those around me. And that Alice had someprecognition, wherever she was.""What did he bring into the next life, and the others?""Carlisle brought his compassion¹⁰. Esme brought her ability to lovepassionately. Emmett brought his strength, Rosalie her… tenacity⁹⁷. Or youcould call it pigheadedness." he chuckled. "Jasper is very interesting.

 

He was quite charismatic in his first life, able to influence thosearound him to see things his way. Now he is able to manipulate theemotions of those around him — calm down a room of angry people, forexample, or excite a lethargic⁹⁸ crowd, conversely. It's a very subtlegift."I considered the impossibilities he described, trying to take it in. Hewaited patiently while I thought.

 

"So where did it all start? I mean, Carlisle changed you, and thensomeone must have changed him, and so on…""Well, where did you come from? Evolution? Creation? Couldn't we haveevolved in the same way as other species, predator⁹⁹ and prey¹⁰⁰? Or, if youdon't believe that all this world could have just happened on its own,which is hard for me to accept myself, is it so hard to believe that thesame force that created the delicate angelfish with the shark, the babyseal and the killer¹⁰¹ whale, could create both our kinds together?""Let me get this straight — I'm the baby seal, right?""Right." He laughed, and something touched my hair — his lips?

 

I wanted to turn toward him, to see if it was really his lips against myhair. But I had to be good; I didn't want to make this any harder for himthan it already was.

 

"Are you ready to sleep?" he asked, interrupting the short silence. "Ordo you have any more questions?""Only a million or two.""We have tomorrow, and the next day, and the next…" he reminded me. Ismiled, euphoric at the thought.

 

"Are you sure you won't vanish in the morning?" I wanted this to becertain. "You are mythical¹⁰², after all.""I won't leave you." His voice had the seal of a promise in it.

 

"One more, then, tonight…" And I blushed. The darkness was no help — I'msure he could feel the sudden warmth under my skin.

 

"What is it?""No, forget it. I changed my mind.""Bella, you can ask me anything."I didn't answer, and he groaned.

 

"I keep thinking it will get less frustrating¹⁰³, not hearing your thoughts.

 

But it just gets worse and worse.""I'm glad you can't read my thoughts. It's bad enough that you eavesdropon my sleep-talking.""Please?" His voice was so persuasive¹⁰⁴, so impossible to resist.

 

I shook my head.

 

"If you don't tell me, I'll just assume it's something much worse than itis," he threatened darkly. "Please?" Again, that pleading voice.

 

"Well," I began, glad that he couldn't see my face.

 

"Yes?""You said that Rosalie and Emmett will get married soon… Is that…marriage… the same as it is for humans?"He laughed in earnest now, understanding. "Is that what you're gettingat?"I fidgeted, unable to answer.

 

"Yes, I suppose it is much the same," he said. "I told you, most of thosehuman 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 hisbody. 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'sjust that you are so soft, so fragile. I have to mind my actions everymoment that we're together so that I don't hurt you. I could kill youquite easily, Bella, simply by accident." His voice had become just asoft murmur¹⁴. He moved his icy palm to rest it against my cheek. "If I wastoo hasty… if for one second I wasn't paying enough attention, I couldreach out, meaning to touch your face, and crush your skull¹⁰⁵ by mistake.

 

You don't realize how incredibly breakable you are. I can never, neverafford to lose any kind of control when I'm with you."He waited for me to respond, growing anxious when I didn't. "Are youscared?" he asked.

 

I waited for a minute to answer, so the words would be true. "No. I'mfine."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 aboutanyone before, not even close.""I know. It's just that I know other people's thoughts. I know love andlust 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 soundedsatisfied.

 

"Your human instincts…" I began. He waited. "Well, do you find meattractive, in that way, at all?"He laughed and lightly rumpled¹⁰⁶ 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, unfamiliar¹⁰⁷ lullaby; thevoice of an archangel, soft in my ear.

 

More tired than I realized, exhausted¹⁰⁸ from the long day of mental andemotional stress like I'd never felt before, I drifted to sleep in hiscold arms.

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