"And it will be harder tomorrow," I continued, "I've had the scent of you in my head all day, and I've grown amazingly desensitized. If I'm away from you for any length of time, I'll have to start over again. Not quite from scratch, though. I think" I explained to her.
I wanted her to realize that I am still a blood drinking killer, and that her blood was still the sweetest of them all.
"Don't go away, then," she pleaded.
More than happy, I replied, "That suits me," and I smiled at her loving face, "Bring on the shackles - I'm your prisoner."
I encompassed my hands around her wrists. I laughed quietly.
"You seem more...optimistic than usual," she ascertained, "I haven't seen you like this before."
"Isn't it supposed to be like this?" I grinned widely, "The glory of first love, and all that. It's incredible, isn't it, the difference between reading about something, seeing it in the pictures, and experiencing it?"
If this was not love, I would like to know what it was. I had never felt so euphoric before.
"Very different," she agreed, "More forceful than I'd imagined."
"For example: the emotion of jealousy; I've read about it a hundred thousand times, seen actors portray it in a thousand different plays and movies. I believed I understood that one pretty clearly. But it shocked me..." I frowned, remembering how all the boys in town lined up for Bella, "Do you remember the day Mike asked you to the dance?"
She was looking intently at me. She nodded, "The day you started talking to me again."
"I was surprised by the flare of resentment, almost fury that I felt - I didn't recognize what it was at first. I was even more aggravated than usual 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 I had no right to care either way. I tried not to care. And then the line started forming," I laughed at the memory of her face as she became angrier each time someone asked her to the dance.
Bella frowned at the memory.
"I waited, unreasonably anxious to hear what you would say to them, to watch your expressions. I couldn't deny the relief I felt, watching the annoyance on your face. But I couldn't be sure.
"That was the first night I came here. I wrestled all night, while watching you sleep, with the chasm between what I knew was right, moral, ethical, and what I wanted. I knew if I continued to ignore you as I should or if I left for a few years, till you were gone, that someday you would say yes to Mike or someone like him. It made me angry."
"And then," I whispered, "as you were sleeping, you said my name. You spoke so clearly, at first I thought you'd woken. But you rolled over restlessly and mumbled my name once more, and sighed. The feeling that coursed through me then was unnerving, staggering. And I knew I couldn't ignore you any longer."
During my small speech, Bella's heart began to pound, and her pulse began to race, I continued, "But jealousy...it's a strange thing. So much more powerful than I would have thought. And irrational. Just now, when Charlie asked you about that vile Mike Newton..." I shook my head, I absolutely hated that kid.
"I should have known you'd be listening," she grumbled.
"Of course," I said, it should be obvious.
"That made you feel jealous, though, really?" she asked, skeptical.
Irrational, I repeated in my head, "I'm new at this; you're resurrecting the human in me, and everything feels stronger because it's fresh." I tried to explain my illogical thoughts.
"But honestly, for that to bother you, after I have to hear that Rosalie - Rosalie, the incarnation of pure beauty, Rosalie - was meant for you. Emmett or no Emmett, how can I compete with that?" She scoffed.
I felt a sensation in my chest...she was jealous of me! It felt wonderful that she should feel that away. Irrational, I thought again.
"There's no competition," I smiled.
Her wrists were still in my hands and I pulled her closer, bringing her hands to my back. I held her to my chest. She was very still, and was taking light, even breaths. Her scent was amazingly warm and was oh so pleasant.
"I know there's no competition," she muttered into my chest, "That's the problem."
She thinks that Rosalie is better than her? Insane! If she knew Rosalie, she would understand that her beauty far outweighs Rosalie's!
"Of course Rosalie is beautiful in her way, but even if she wasn't like a sister to me, even if Emmett didn't belong with her, she could never have one tenth, no, one hundredth of the attraction you hold for me. For almost ninety years I've walked among my kind and yours...all the time thinking I was complete in myself, not realizing what I was seeking. And not finding anything, because you weren't alive yet." I tried to explain, to show her how much she means to me.
"It hardly seems fair," she whispered, still securely wrapped in my arms, "I haven't had to wait at all. Why should I get off so easily?" she wondered.