Fanfiction Based On Stephenie Meyer’s Twilight Series

Rated MA for Mature Adult Content

La Petite Mort

(One-Shot)

By Dyedinwool/Houroflead

Summary: In the clutches of a vampire, Bella is immersed by a force that ignites her body and binds

her to a union of darkness, desire and destiny. AU ExB OOC Dark themes, mature content, warning

inside.

~*~

“I know, I know.” Angela, my good friend since high school, was trying to convince me to call a cab -
that walking the two blocks down to the nearest subway station was too risky. “I’ll be careful, I promise.
It really isn’t that far, Ang.”

“Yeah, but you know how it’s been lately,” she replied loudly, trying to talk to me over the booming
music of the bar.

It was very late and the night had been uneventful. I was out with Angela and her husband Ben, and
there was little more depressing than being a third-wheel that wasn’t getting hit on. Not that I wanted to
be hit on necessarily, but come on, throw a dog a bone.

“You just can’t take any chances,” she added, giving me a stern look.

I said goodbye to her and Ben quickly, not letting the argument go on any further.

The night was cold and blustery, and most people who were out walking those city streets at two a.m.
were doing so briskly, coat collars pulled up around the throat, eyes forward and intent on their
destination. I walked much the same.

The reason the night-time stroll was not recommended was because of the recent abductions and
murders in the city. The number had been on the rise and not a single case had been solved. The crimes
were always at night.

I walked faster.

Two blocks, just two blocks…

My scarf was wrapped in a bundle around my neck, and I had my face scrunched down into it turtle-
style to block any of the harsh cold from my face. This impaired my peripheral vision, so I never saw
him coming.

A flash of movement to my side was almost non-existent. Subconsciously, something made me walk
faster. My heartbeat picked up, and I knew I was being followed.

I crossed a street and could almost see the station sign from where I was.

One more block, one more…

The distance between the lamp lights was frightening - a good ten feet separated them, and each
darkness in between looked like a cavernous world of night, of void and imminent danger.

I stepped out of the light of one and held my breath until I reached the other one. I wasn’t fast enough.

There was a sound - a whisper, my name, a tender word, a lullaby - and then I was pushed. It felt like
being flung across a long distance by a wrecking ball. It felt like I was flying, and as soon as I realized
that I wasn’t colliding with anything - a wall or the ground - I remembered to scream. I could only see
blackness and feel the zipping of wind, a giant pressure still encasing my upper body, when I took a
breath to yell with. There was a dark noise, like a growl or a chuckle, oddly I couldn’t tell, and then a
hard, cold thing clapped over my mouth. A hand, definitely a hand. Though it felt nothing like one.

I wiggled and squirmed and fought and it was all fruitless.

But then it seemed like I - we - slowed. And in my head, a song was hummed. A music box chimed. A
delicate melody I did not know, sounding foreign and antiquated, resounded with perfect volume and
clarity in my mind.

And then I was bitten.

I opened my mouth to scream but nothing came out, the song became louder, more intent. The hand
moved away from my mouth and down the side of my neck that wasn’t being attacked. The hand

stroked the side of my body, over my thick coat, but I felt it the entire way. It stopped on my hip and
moved up my stomach, up the center of my chest and back to my neck.

My eyes could only see darkness. The pressure at my neck was intense; a burning, a singeing of skin,
but then it started to tingle and numb, and while the pressure remained, I instead became lightheaded
and almost incoherent.

It remained this way until suddenly I was feeling everything. There were teeth sunk into my neck,
sucking harshly at my wound, but the sensation was gorgeous. The more viciously I was taken from, the
more generously I was given. Being pumped into my body through that wound was electricity, it was a
pulse pushing itself through my veins and down my body, and I began moving underneath my attacker.

My hands rose around a body until shoulders were found, my hands went up a neck and found a head,
found hair, and my fingers latched on to that. I arched my neck to encourage the exchange.

He laughed.

And when he pulled away, I cried out.

“Fascinating.” The sound was far away yet remarkably close, as if the source itself was actually in my
ear canal.

My eyes were wide and searching, but my coherency was lacking, and all I wanted back was the tingle,
the drunken itch of impulse. I tried to find his face in the dark, but was met by only blackness and
shadows.

Abruptly, my head was moved to the side and I felt him come down near my neck again, and I moaned
out for the return of the aphrodisia.

“So different with you.”

A pause and nothing was happening. Lips were ghosting over the wound, licking and teasing with their
pleasing prickle, but nothing more. I was whining.

“And why is that?”

His voice was like a song. Even at the point of my highest annoyance and impatience, it was like a
ballad made of liquid magma and silk brocade, thick and rich, singing all the while.

The sensation was starting to decline, and like a drug with an immediate addictive factor, I wanted it
back. I squirmed.

He laughed again. “And so pretty when you’re flustered. Look at you.”

My hands reached out to find him. Nothing. His voice sounded so close, though.

“Such a shame to waste something so unique… What to do, what to do…”

And seconds after that, his mouth, frigid as the night outside, was back on my throat. The rush of lust
that hit me was like running into a brick wall.

“Oh, God.”

I was moaning, I was arching, I was clawing at his back while he exchanged elements with me at the
wound.

And I felt everything; the brushing of his soft hair against my jaw and ear, the impossible rigidity of his
body above my mine, the harsh sucking as his mouth drew from my neck, but it was the intake of what
he was giving me that rose above everything.

I was like an animal, wanton and blazing underneath him. My hands roamed his body as I arched into
him, trying to satiate the ache that was building between my legs like a mine being packed with
dynamite, preparing for the explosion.

His clothing was more minimal than mine, which is what made it so easy to find his cock. I stroked it
through his pants as if it were mine, as if every ounce of pleasure gained from my hand chafing against
the bulge produced my own surge of gratification. It took a minute to realize that it actually was. Soon,
we were both groaning.

I wanted to move to peel off my clothing, to rip it to shreds and damn it to hell, but it was almost
impossible to move under him. I squirmed in the best way I could and got my coat mostly off, my scarf
having been lost somewhere in the process.

The entire experience was like being out of my body, out of my mind, out of every realm of reality I
ever knew. I did not know who I was at that moment, and I did not care. Even down to my toes, I was
tingling and burning with need.

Hands, brushing hard and fast were ripping and pulling at my lower half, and his mouth had detached
from my neck.

My mind was flooded with images, snippets and snapshots of hips slapping against each other, of naked
skin brushing in repeated motions, of soundless screams and clawing arms…

“I want you.” It was a whisper in my ear, a sound inside of my mind, a song being sung from across the
room.

My pants were gone and I was trying to peel down my panties to display my acquiescence.

“No,” he said, grabbing my wrists and locking them in his grasp before pinning them on either side of
my head. “What is your name?”

Even in my intoxicated stupor, I was surprised.

I thought hard. “Bella. Bella Swan.”

“Hm….” hummed like a melody, swirling in and out of itself like ribbons of cream and lace.

My head floated, and again, the images reappeared. Long white legs, narrow and open, bent at the knee,
pushed to the side, sweat trailing down a raised thigh, bare breasts with puckered nipples, tight and
painfully sensitive, large hands groping and molding around them, squeezing and pinching… And then
it was my own breasts I could feel being touched, my own nipples being pulled and tweaked.

“Oh!” I cried out, the reaction delayed.

His mouth came down on my chest then, and as his cool tongue traveled up my breasts and around my
nipples, swirling and flicking before sucking roughly, the moisture left a tingling residue on my skin.

Lightly, teeth scraped at my nipples, breaking tiny bits of skin before he took them in his mouth and
sucked again. His hands pulled away my panties like they were nothing more than dust, easily blown
away.

Not being able to resist, I reached between my legs and sunk my fingertips into the depths of moisture,
stroking once before my hand was pried away.

“What an eager little slut you are.”

I was silent, stunned, dreaming.

Somehow, somewhere, I could feel in my mind that he was hesitating, whereas only a moment ago, he
was all lust and passion as I was.

“Tell me, Bella Swan, how many have ventured into this filthy cavity of yours, hm?”

Truly dreaming, I had no answer. Feeling his impatience pushing at my mind, I searched for the answer,
trying to focus on a reality I was so far from.

I thought, and I thought, and… “None.”

Silence.

I absorbed that, trying to feel its truth, and knew he was doing the same.

Before I had time to really let that sink in, and for reality to draw me back in completely, he was hard
and grinding down on me, my open legs being held by his firm hands.

“Ah,” I squealed.

“Well aren’t you full of surprises.” He was at my ear that time, I was sure of it. Inside of it, maybe, but

definitely nearby.

He was hard, were men supposed to be that hard? And he was grinding and sliding up and down,
pushing my slit open and rubbing against things that felt dangerous, making my head lull back and my
hips come up to greet him. His fingers were tight around my thighs, and the pressure was enough to
bruise but all I could feel was between my legs and this brisk cock that was doing everything I needed it
to, almost.

His hand slid down from my leg and ran slowly up my stomach before curling around my breast,
massaging it until it reached the center and then pinching at my nipple again, tugging it until it was all
becoming too much.

His hardness stroked up and down easily through my wetness, brushing against my worked-up clit with
every stroke.

My head thrashed as I moaned out, wanting more and more, the tension building and escalating to peaks
that seemed like they would destroy me.

I could practically see him smiling, smirking, watching me.

Each stroke that pulled him low I wanted to sink into me. I hoped that he would push in and satiate the
aching pulse that craved fulfillment. But he didn’t, he stroked and I writhed.

I thought he might have laughed.

And then at my ear, his breath blowing cold and his tongue flicking out to my lobe, “I want to see you
come.”

His strokes became rougher then, and he pulled my legs wider and there was no avoiding the intensity as
he focused.

I cried out to no one and nothing, not even knowing who I was with, not being able to focus on that,
only being able to feel every brush of skin and surge of tension in my body.

Then I was tightening to a breaking point and with a last pass against my clit, I was squeezing again and
again, contracting against nothing as relief unbound itself in licking strokes all over my body. The
orgasm uncurled itself to every part of me, unfurling between my legs and stretching to my toes, to my
fingertips, making my light head all the more dizzy with pleasure.

I mewled and gasped, catching my breath and holding it over and over again, trying to hang on to the
last bits of intense pleasure still bursting and pulsing within me.

When his fingers touched my oversensitive skin I yelped.

“Relax,” he sung, a smile in his voice.

He readjusted my hips.

Then his lips were right above mine. “This won’t be gentle.” He kissed me and licked my lips, and then
he was gone, but my lips tingled and the moisture left for me to gather with my tongue was dizzying.

And then he thrust. And if I didn’t remember I was a virgin immediately before, I did then.

“Ow!” I yelled.

I cringed but only had a moment to breathe before he was pushing again, slower, like a rocking motion,
but again and again.

“Uh…” I groaned.

I licked my lips again and a small bit of his essence lingered there and helped to balm the discomfort.
But it was only momentarily, and the more he moved the less uncomfortable it was and the more
pleasurable it became.

Quickly, I was curled around him. My legs were pressing into his backside, my arms were pulling him
down to me, and all I wanted was more. More, more.

I was moaning and whining, trying to get my point across, my hands pulling him down were hardly
doing any good. “Harder,” I all but shouted at him.

A hand came down on my hip and gripped me hard, and he pushed into me with such a force that I
screamed.

And then he pulled back and did it again. And again.

“That better?” It was a taunt. The smile was lost in the darkness, but it was there.

“Yes! Oh,” I was mumbling, lost in the sensation.

Our bodies rocked together this way; he thrusting in and out with a strength that moved my body across
the floor beneath me, all while I clung to him and begged for more.

Then for a moment he was frantic, and the speed was not something I could keep up with, and even in
the darkness, seemed impossible. It was like this only moments before he was grunting above me, the
sound deep and echoing, filling the room and my mind.

A calm settled around us, and slowly music was starting to swim in my head again. Like a jewelry box
with a twirling ballerina, a song played crisp and flowery.

When I woke everything hurt.

As my eyes opened to a bright room, all I could think of was that I had been dropped out of a building,

or falling out of the sky, because every part of me was sore.

I winced at the light.

It took me long minutes before I even turned my head to look at the digital clock by my bedside. It read
one-forty p.m. It was the afternoon. I laid in bed, trying to understand why I was in so much discomfort.
Something was also jabbing into my side and when I went to readjust it, I noted that I was fully dressed.
At least, mostly dressed.

My clothing was dirty and ripped, my underwear totally missing, but my coat was buttoned up and my
purse strap was hanging off my arm. Inside, the contents of my purse were completely intact; my wallet,
its contents, my keys, everything was there.

Slowly, I got out of bed and stripped, feeling filthy and terrible, and ran myself an extra hot bath. As I
went to the medicine cabinet to find the ibuprofen, I got a look at myself. I was a mess, but that wasn’t a
surprise, what was shocking was the injury on my neck. I gasped and recoiled from the mirror, the
reflection resurfacing memories of the previous evening.

And so I sat in the bathtub, hugging my knees and cried. The clean and perfect crescents on my neck
weren’t painful and would heal. The hot water helped with the tenderness of my body and the various
bruises I had, but the memories of what happened were coming back to me in bits and pieces, and every
snippet more that I would remember, I would ask myself again and again what happened, how it could
have happened.

I had been attacked, brutalized, possibly drugged and then had consensual sex with my attacker, who I
never even saw. And I had been a virgin, holding out for love.

I cried harder.

But I didn’t know whether to call the police or to try to tell someone about what had happened, I was
incredibly ashamed. I wondered what types of diseases I had contracted, the fact that I had had sex with
a total stranger, who had bit me… I couldn’t wrap my mind around any of it.

I draped myself in a towel and lay down on my bed, crying until I fell asleep again.

I woke up to the sound of a shrieking ring. The telephone. It wouldn’t stop ringing no matter how much
I ignored it.

I finally pulled myself out of my bed and got up.

“Hello?”

“Bella! I have been worried sick and trying to call you all afternoon, are you okay?” Angela.

“Yeah,” I replied.

“You don’t sound okay, what’s wrong?”

I couldn’t bring myself to admit anything. “Nothing, I was just taking a nap.” I looked around and
noticed my apartment was completely dark. I had not turned on a single light before I went back to sleep
and it was now night out.

“Okay, well I just wanted to make sure you got home okay last night.”

I cringed. “Yeah, I’m here.”

“Well I’ll let you get your rest. See you Monday.”

“Thanks Angela. Bye.”

I hung up the phone with a huge sigh, which turned into a stuttered weeping. I had ruined my life.

“Aw. And what are the tears for, lamb chop?”

I jumped back, like a scared cat, probably three feet into the air.

“Where are you?” I demanded, searching for a light switch.

He chuckled from across the room - the sofa.

I hit the light switch on the wall and there he was. And though I had never seen him during our
encounter, it was like I almost knew. He was young, and his pale skin had a glow to it in the dim room.
It was almost ethereal, and the way it radiated off of him could easily make any person gawk - it was not
normal in any way. His features were well balanced and sharp. But even though he was obviously
young, there was an air of enlightenment around him. Even as he sat on my sofa, smirking, he held
himself with a seasoned practice, easy and refined. His hair was an arrangement of dark brown, the mess
of it somehow pulled neatly atop his head.

“You,” I said accusatorily.

He continued to smirk. “Me,” he replied with jazz hands.

“Tell me what happened.”

“You know what happened.”

“No,” I said.

He smiled, simultaneously glaringly beautiful and wholly dangerous.

“Did you at least… use protection?” I asked timidly.

Then he laughed. He threw his head back and I could see the rows of perfect white teeth, no cavities,
just white, white, white. It was blinding, the sound was maddeningly glorious.

“Protection from what?” he chuckled.

I shifted on my feet. “You know. Disease.”

“I have none.”

“Unwanted pregnancy.”

“I’m quite sterile.”

“How do I know you aren’t lying, you bit me!”

I couldn’t tell if he shrugged, but I thought I almost saw the movement. “You’re lucky you aren’t dead.”

Something dawned on me then. “Are you responsible for the murders in the city?”

“Some.”

My body went rigid with fear. “Oh my God. Who are you?”

“My name?”

I stayed gaping at him, not having words, only paralyzing dread.

“Edward,” he said.

Edward? What kind of name is that for a serial killer? Is anyone even named that anymore?

“Why did you attack me? Drug me?”

“Drug you,” he laughed. “No, lamb chop, we have a connection, you and I. It is what saved you. There
were no outside substances. That was all us. You enjoyed it, believe me.”

Then he stood up and it was like looking up at a high-rise building, feeling like it was going to crash
down on you at any moment.

I raised my hand, palm up. “Wait. What are you doing?”

“Are you feeling refreshed?”

“What?”

“From last night, have you quite recovered?”

“Er…” I mumbled.

He sighed. “Lamb chop, this isn’t going to work properly if you aren’t taking care of yourself. You need
to start by replenishing yourself. You lost some blood.”

His words were like a stream of incoherency, but I caught the tail end of it. “You took my blood?!”

“Of course.”

“You’re psychotic!”

“I’m a vampire, actually. Go ahead,” he said with a wave of his hand. “Put it together.” And with that,
he turned and went into the kitchen.

Vampire? What? Dracula? Transylvania? Keanu Reeves? Bats? Silver bullets?

He, “Edward”, reappeared a moment later, holding a glass of orange juice and some crackers. “You will
need meat as well. Do you not have vitamins here?” He looked over my shoulder towards my bedroom.

“You need to leave,” I said as firmly as I could.

“Don’t start,” he replied coolly.

“I’m going to call the police if you don’t leave right now.”

“Don’t annoy me, lamb chop. You will regret it.” His voice was firm, and was enough to make someone
piss themselves, but I was summoning all my courage. This person was going to kill me, I just knew it.

“Look, I don’t know what happened yesterday but I swear I won’t report it to the cops. Just please leave
and we can forget any of this-“

I felt pressure at my arms and a rush of air, and then my head banged into a wall.

“Stop,” he commanded.

“I-“

“Not another word. I spared your life last night because you posed something valuable to me. You are
on the verge of soiling that. For me, the dissolution would be vexing. For you, it would be fatal.”

And then I had no idea what to do. “Please,” I begged. “I don’t understand what you want.”

He released my arms and I slumped on the wall he had pushed me into.

“Do you think I stop to play with all my food?” he asked with a smirk.

“What?”

He smiled and turned on his heel, taking steps away from me. “Two days, Bella Swan.” It was the voice
in the ear thing again, and my eyes fluttered closed involuntarily, and my head swam. The musical
sound of it was light and dreamy, but the promise he was making was terrifying. "Two days and I will
be thirsty again."

My knees were wobbling with my light-headedness, and as I tried to shake it off, I noticed that I was
alone in the room.

My initial encounter with him had been on a Thursday night, so if he was going to come back in two
days time, that meant I only had until Sunday. Only had until Sunday to do what? What was I going to
do? Who was he? What was he?

The questions kept me busy over the next two days; pacing back and forth in my apartment, wondering
if he was going to show up again, picking up the phone before putting it back down, crying in
frustration, feeling scared and anxious.

And all the while, I felt sure I was being watched. I wasn’t sure how he got into my apartment, nor was I
even sure how I arrived back there in the first place, but over the next days, I knew he was nearby.

Every hour that passed granted me more memories. I remembered more of what had transpired between
us; the lust and the intoxicating need, the movement of our bodies together and the immeasurable
pleasure that I never wanted to end. I remembered our connection and the intensity of it shocked me. I
stood in the shower as the memory came back to me and I wrapped my arms around myself, the water
suddenly seeming to run cold. He felt nearby. Edward. How I could sense that, I didn’t know.

On Saturday I started to panic. I felt as though I should leave, that I could simply pack up and run away.
I could go to a friend’s house, I could finally go to the police. But as I lay in bed debating my options, a
thick haze crept over my mind and my eyes fell closed, heavy with the stupor.

I fell asleep, or at least into a state of semiconsciousness. I was seeing images again, he was feeding
them to me, I knew, but once they started I couldn’t care. I was relaxed in the suspension of the lull, the
visuals around me were of bodies moving, working together. There were no faces, but it was clear it was
he and I. Limbs were being stroked, backs were arched, hips were rocked, lips were brushing, and in the
distance, faint cries of pleasure could be heard.

It was me, crying out for him. I was moaning his name, pressing my fingers into his back and cradling
him between my thighs, bucking my hips up to his as he pushed down into me. It was a taste of the
staggering intensity of before, there in a tiny snippet in my mind. I was so close to feeling it all, but it
was out of reach. I could almost feel him there, hovering above me, his cock stroking in and out of me,
his hands kneading my breasts, his tongue thrilling my skin.

But instead there was a burn between my legs, a void of unfulfillment, and I squirmed in my daze, my
hands reaching into my panties to satisfy what little I could. But even then, as I watched the images in

my mind continue with wanton envy, my hands were heavy and I could not seem to reach even my own
body.

I groaned in frustration, crying out in my smoldering reverie, agonizing over that which was out of
reach.

But then there was a slither up my leg, brushing past my calf and stopping behind my knee. A wet
coldness sucked at the tender skin there, and it moved further up my leg, stroking the inside of my thigh.
The moisture buzzed with a sharp tingle, zipping direct lines of some form of electric current straight
between my legs. I wanted desperately to push my thighs together, but they were held apart. The mouth
kissed with the lightness of batting wings, and the sensation was a tease of shocking pleasure.

I squirmed and writhed on the bed. Hands crawled up my hips and one palm stroked flat across my
panties.

I mewled and my underwear was gone, and it was air hitting my bareness, open and aching.

“Edward,” I whispered, because it was him.

The room was dark and my head was still muddled, but it was him between my legs. I could feel the
coldness of his breath as he breathed out against my thigh, dangerously close to a throbbing that could
stand little more taunts.

“Bella,” he replied quietly. He pushed his face against my thigh, the cool temperature making me feel all
the more hot. His tongue flicked out as his hand traveled further up my leg until he met my stomach.
“Are you done with your silliness?”

I knew he wanted an answer and my automatic reaction was yes, to give him whatever he wanted. But
that wasn’t sane. And I was still semi-coherent, so I could rationalize that much.

“Are you going to hurt me?” I asked.

“No,” he replied, and I believed him.

“Why not? Aren’t you a murderer?”

“I won’t because you have something to offer me. But I am a murderer, yes.”

I hesitated. I wanted this right now, I wanted him right now, but murder just wasn’t going to fly. No
way, no how.

“You can’t stomach that,” he stated.

I nodded.

He stilled by my leg. “Hm.”

For several moments I took deep breaths, trying to get out of the fog of salacious visuals he had put me
in. I didn’t have any bottoms on any more, but I tried to sit up a little. I felt sure he wasn’t going to kill
me, but I did sense that he was irritated with me.

“This isn’t about giving you options,” he finally said. “You have none. What you are capable of doing
with me is because you have been destined for this and it is altogether inevitable.”

“Wait, what are you talking about? What am I capable of?”

“The link that you and I have during the exchange, that is not commonplace or even rare. It is, in fact,
quite exceptional. But as I said, you don’t have options here, neither do I. Rationally, your mind is
telling you to object and flee, but instinctually, you want otherwise. Is this not so?”

He knew it was.

I nodded once.

“I am a vampire, whether you want to see that or not is irrelevant, it is the truth. I need blood to sustain
myself, which is why I originally found you.”

“I don’t believe in vampires,” I said.

“You will believe it when I bite you again. I can make certain you’ll remember this time.”

His voice made my blood run cold, and I felt backed into a corner.

“What am I supposed to do?”

Edward drew closer to me again, I could only make out his shadowy figure, but I saw him and felt his
body hovering.

“You want this as much as I do. It is quite irrevocable at this point.”

“I- I don’t know,” I stammered.

“Yes you do.” His voice was smooth, lingering at my shoulder.

“You’re a serial killer,” I mumbled, hanging on to that bit of horrifying truth.

“This is restraining me,” he whispered at the side of my neck, his lips kissing me slowly.

I blinked like mad to stay focused. “How do I know that’s true?”

“You don’t,” he said. “No more than you know that I won’t kill you right now. And how do you know
that?”

“I… just know.”

“Exactly.” And then he was sucking, kissing my skin with an open mouth and licking the wound which
was almost entirely healed over. The short recovery time was surprising, and I was grateful for it.

His hands came across my chest and down to my breasts, groping me over my shirt and bra.

I moved under his body, trying to bring him closer to me and trying to bring him further down on me as
he kissed and licked at my neck and shoulder. His teeth would graze or nip lightly, but he wasn’t biting
in, and the immense anticipation of things to come once he did - of the return of the connection - was
making me insane with fervor.

I reached down to his pants and fumbled in the dark with his belt before he spoke again. “I am not
interested in playing games with you, Bella. You need to either decline this, or heed the call.”

I let my hands drop, and my mind stretched and worked to try to understand.

“What does it mean?” I asked. “The…”

“It is a union.”

I looked up at him, his face close to me in the darkness. The slope of his cheekbones was dramatic in the
shadowy light, his moist lips were more full than I remembered, and they were more tempting. I
watched them move as he spoke, wanting to kiss them, wanting them covering my skin.

“It is a symbiosis of our kinds,” he continued. “It is impossible, but here we are. Fortuity, destiny,
providence… we are synergism, greater in unity.”

Finally, I felt like his words were sinking in. Under the heaviness of his eyes, I was understanding.

“I don’t even know you.” My voice was tiny.

“Yes, you do, just as I know you.”

He smiled and brought his lips down on mine, and then he kissed me. At first he kissed softly, like
plucking at strings and weaving in and out of caresses. Then his hands were running up the side of my
body and braiding into my hair, holding my head while his mouth became more frenzied. His mouth fell
back to my neck and I knew he wanted to bite me.

“Edward,” I said, my voice breathy and strained.

“Do not be unsure, Bella. What you feel is not ambiguous.”

“But what will happen? What am I promising?”

“You. You are promising yourself, as I am myself.”

“To you?”

“Just as I am to you.”

“I-“ I stammered. “I-“

“Shh, relax,” he said, and his lips were back at my neck. “Relax.”

The music sank into my mind like a fog that comes creeping under a door. It was the soothing melody
that nestled me in its arms and relaxed my tense body into a sweet lull.

“Edward…”

My head was turned and his teeth sunk into me.

“Ugh,” I groaned, but it was more discomfort than it was pain, and the stinging only lasted as long as it
took for Edward to start giving himself.

I winced and did so until I realized that I was waiting, and then it started. Perhaps because I knew what
was happening, and I had a sense of what to expect, I could distinguish the process taking place. Not that
that made it any less overwhelming. As Edward took blood from me, my body was extracting something
from his own body.

It was like going from zero to sixty in seconds. And then I was totally submerged, enraptured in the tide
of heady lust that emanated from somewhere within the both of us. I felt his lust like I felt my own, and
it was so pungent, so raw a thing, that it became instinctual, and him taking my blood was only part of
the process. I was receiving so much in return.

The euphoria transfixed Edward as well, and he drank slower, taking long pulls and savoring sensations.
He licked at his bite marks and slid his hands over me, moaning against my neck in unadulterated
rapture.

His hands tore at my shirt and mine at his pants, fumbling and bumping around each other in our
urgency. For a moment, he pulled away totally and the vacancy that my body felt was astonishing. The
deprivation felt like a lost life force. Within seconds he was back, his body bare, situating himself
between my legs.

I reached out to him but he stayed out of my reach. “Edward,” I complained, my hand outstretched.

He turned over my palm and kissed it, but then released it and suddenly his mouth was on my stomach,
kissing wet and languid down my hips.

I gasped when I felt his index finger stroke straight between my lips, the hot wetness there letting his
touch fall slick and particularly frigid. He swirled around my opening, pressing his fingertip in only

slightly before turning his finger and sliding right back up.

“Oh, God… Edward… mm…” At that point, I was past propriety, and I was ready to beg. I arched up
into his hand. I reached my own hands down to try to grope at some part of him, and I found his hair and
his shoulders.

His voice was across the room, across the state, and simultaneously painting a vivid picture in my mind,
the letters weaving in and out of themselves, dancing in pastel hues, gem tones… “You were a virgin.
Why was this?”

I wanted to tell him to be quiet, to get on top of me or flip me over or do something that involved his
cock inside of me, sliding in and out and pounding and pulling and pushing and thrusting and…

“Lamb chop…” he sung. The colors in my head swirled like a kaleidoscope.

“I don’t know,” I mumbled, moving my hips to find his hand again. My own hands were empty, he had
gone out of my reach again.

“I think you do.” He stroked again, dipping low before rushing back up and circling around my clit.

“Uhh,” I moaned.

“Tell me,” he said.

My mind was cloudy, I was so focused on the goal, I was burning with my inebriated need… Why was I
a what? A virgin… “Love,” I said. “I wanted to be in love.”

Even through the stupor, the pain of that settled like a heavy weight in the center of my chest. I sighed.

Edward said nothing, he stroked lightly, and I knew he was thoughtful. Slowly, he lowered his head and
began kissing the inside of my thigh, working his way lower and lower. His fingers continued to stoke,
centering on my clit with leisurely circles as his mouth and his tongue worked my tender skin.

“Bella,” he said quietly. “What would you say if I told you that we were fated to love each other?”

I went rigid.

Edward laughed. “Don’t be scared.”

“I-, er-“

“Do you not believe in the predestined?”

“It’s not that… I don’t know what I would say.”

“Well,” he said, “I would tell you to open your eyes, because we are bound, and such things are not

exclusive of one another.”

“But I don’t-“

“But you will,” he promised. “You already do.”

I was not in the appropriate position to be attempting to understand such sweeping concepts, but I tried,
and only strained to follow one idea from point A to point B, my body was demanding so many other
things and Edward was not stopping his finger-torture.

“Relax now,” he said, “here.”

And then he went back to work, his fingers moving on my clit again but his mouth now against my lips,
his tongue sliding in and around me, his mouth sucking at various points. It was bliss.

My hips moved underneath him, my legs somehow dragged themselves over his shoulders and then
apart, bent at the knee. His free hand slid up one of my legs and stilled it, then his face turned into it and
before I could miss his tongue on me, he was sinking his teeth in, his fingers working faster circles on
me.

“Ahh…” I yelled or moaned or cried.

The exchange was taking place at a much lower vicinity now, and every bit of his essence that came into
me was doing so at the source of my lust.

It was like everything had been lit on fire.

I was gasping for air, not even capable of making a sound as his fingers circled at impossible speeds
while his mouth sucked roughly at the inside of my thigh. My fingers went limp in his hair and every
fraction of my body tensed to a point of snapping before relaxing over and over in never ending swells
of dense pleasure.

Edward moved around me, releasing my thigh from his mouth. My eyes fluttered open and closed.
There were swooshes of air and twirls of longing and hums of melodies.

He kissed my lips and grabbed behind my knees, bending them and spreading them as I lay languid and
flushed. He pushed into me with the fluid ease of taking a breath, and I absorbed him much the same.

He worked thoughtfully, pushing forward hard but slow, his strokes measured and intent. Over and over,
back and forth he pulled and pushed while holding my legs apart. I reached around me and groped at
sheets, at pillows and the headboard, but my strength found purchase nowhere as he stretched and filled
before retreating and vacating, and then did it all over again.

“Bella.” It was his voice, stroking at my ear lobe, light as a feather.

I closed my eyes and saw myself as he saw me, naked and spread underneath him, sweat glimmering on

my skin, my head shifting against a pillow. My mouth was open, gaping wide, and my eyes were
squeezed shut. As he moved back I raised myself into him, desperately trying to find him again. And
this was the match, the tug of war that I could see through his eyes.

When I opened my eyes, above me in the dimness I could see Edward smiling, his mouth open and his
teeth barely visible, but I could see him. He grunted lightly as he pushed into me, watching me and
wanting me.

Faster,I thought, faster, over and over in my mind, testing it out.

And it worked.

Edward’s hands slid from my legs to my hips and then it wasn’t just speed, it was force. And holy fuck if
he wasn’t strong.

“Oh!” I was screaming, repeating it until I had no more breath, until he was taking it all from me.

The bed rocked beneath us, my hand pressed against the headboard and with what little strength I had, I
rose into him as he thrust forward into me again and again.

Our skin slapped together with a chant of violence that was hypnotic. The pleasure was maddening,
staggering, unreal.

My free hand reached down between us and rubbed my clit, trying to find a measure of balance with his
strokes, but I couldn’t. Instead I raced to the end, knowing that it would be glorious. But what it was,
was all consuming and overwhelming. My muscles squeezed together with a tightness that made me cry
out, my body tensing and releasing over and over, warming me and enveloping me in a pleasure so
profound I felt limp. I was dazed and tingling when it was over.

Above me, with a tightening of his fingers on my hips and a snarling groan, Edward came inside me.
The fury and the fluster on his face was evident even in the darkness of the room. I reached my arms out
and in the next moment, he was cradling me against him, lying down. He kissed my mouth tenderly, and
I tried to be responsive for as long as I could.

I drifted in and out of awareness, my slumber blissful. Edward didn’t move from under me and his arms
stayed wrapped around me. The time spent this way was indiscernible - it could have been long minutes
or long hours.

“Bella,” Edward whispered.

Slowly, I raised my head from his chest and looked at him.

“Why have you not accepted this?”

“How do you know how I feel?” I asked, genuinely curious. He was right, I was still unsure, but how
could he tell?

Edward smiled. “How do you know how it is I feel?”

I concentrated. He felt satiated, curious and a little anxious. I looked at him closely. “I don’t know, I can
just tell.”

“It is the exchange. Now tell me, why do you fight to recognize it for what it is?”

I exhaled a gust of air. Edward was feeling doubtful of me. His emotions were more pronounced during
and immediately after sex, but from what I could tell, they never completely went out of my range.
“Because,” I explained, “it is a whole world of fiction and fairy tale…”

“Have you not had proof enough?” he asked.

“I don’t know if there is enough proof in the world.”

“So you’re refusing?”

“No…”

“That is what it seems.”

“I want to trust you,” I admitted.

“And what do you feel?”

I took a deep breath. “That I already do.”

“Let that be your evidence,” he said.

I chewed my lip, feeling truly mystified. The truth that I felt was everything against what I thought. My
better judgment was having a fit.

I sat up and looked at him, still lying on my bed. “And what do you gain from this, Edward?”

“We have been offered something remarkable, it would not only be incredibly foolish to let go, but
probably also quite wrong. I have accepted this.”

“But you would have otherwise killed me that first time we met?”

He looked up at me, his eyes were almost apologetic. “Your blood is luscious.”

I huffed. “Are you continuing to kill people?”

He smiled and patted my knee. “Not since I have regularly scheduled meals.”

“Does that mean you will stop, for good?”

“I can feed once a week if the minimum is necessary.”

“Feed from me? You won’t kill anyone then?”

“That is the intention.”

“And how do I know you won’t grow tired or bored of it, of me?”

“The only probability of inconsistency that you need to worry about is that of your own. I am not a
human, and the temperament is not in me. And as I have told you, I have embraced this and am prepared
to luxuriate in it.” He smiled widely at me.

My thoughts made me feel unsure. What if he changed his mind? What if the connection was only
strong on my end? I wanted this, and regardless of my concerns, it felt inexplicably right. It was also
true that I was starting to feel something for him, some deeply inherent thing, but fuck, he wasn’t even
human, did he even have feelings?

Edward chuckled before closing his eyes. “It is the same as you - my feelings are your feelings. You
know this, accept it.”

I sighed. He was right. Somewhere, somehow, I could feel the level of affection he had for me. His
feelings came to me like my own, and the bond meant that nothing could be hidden. I would have to
learn to get used to this. I would have to learn to trust this.

“How long can you stay?” I asked.

He laughed quietly. “I wasn’t planning on leaving.”

~*~

The End