Rose

All at once, the pain was gone. I waited for it to come back—

Nothing.

Hardly daring to hope that it was over, I cautiously lifted an eyelid.

Nothing.

I lifted the other…

Nothing.

Exhaling in relief, I surveyed my surroundings. I was lying in a bed, softer and more comfortable than any I had ever slept in. The walls were painted a light, unthreatening blue, and the carpet was a creamy color. The furnishings of the room, which were coordinated with these two colors, were fashionable and sophisticated.Rich folks, I thought. Suddenly, I realized that I felt strangely cold. I leaned forward to get up—and stopped.

That movement had been way too fast.

I swiped a hand in front of my face experimentally. It blurred, and the movement cost me no effort at all. Feeling slightly panicked now, I got up from the bed and reached out to lift the mattress…

It was lighter than a feather.

"Holy shit," I whispered.

Suddenly, I heard footsteps approaching the room. I retreated to the bed, which was untidy now from me lifting it. The door opened, and a man entered.

The first thing I noticed about him was how very good-looking he was. This wasn't a very manly thought, but it was true. He had light blonde hair, and his eyes were a shocking topaz. He was about my height.

"Hello," the man said pleasantly. "My name is Carlisle." His accent wasn't exactly British, but his pronunciation was perfect. "Emmett," I introduced myself, swallowing hard. My voice sounded different, like the deep voice you hear on advertisements. And I noticed that he had a strange smell about him—very distinct, though I had never smelled it before.

"I am sure that you have a few questions to ask me," Carlisle said encouragingly. His smile was kind, and I relaxed.

"What's wrong with me?" I asked him. "Just a second ago, I lifted up a mattress without any effort, and before that…I was in pain…" I trailed off, wincing at the memory of the burning in my veins.

Carlisle nodded, seeming calm but the slightest bit uncomfortable.

"That's how it is for our kind," he said, in a way that made me sure that this was a prelude to something else, something important. "All of our abilities are enhanced—which means that you will be able to run faster than any regular person, and stronger too."

My eyes narrowed in incomprehension, but I couldn't help asking, "How much stronger?" Carlisle raised his eyebrows and said, smiling, "Much stronger."

"Wait," I said, getting back to the point. "I don't understand; why am I stronger? Our kind? What happened to me?"

His gaze calm as ever, Carlisle answered, "You are a vampire, Emmett." He looked at me solemnly.

There was silence.

Suddenly, I let out a boom of laughter. "Oh, that's rich," I told him. I added, still chuckling, "How about now you tell me the truth, Carlisle." Carlisle considered me for a moment. "Look in the mirror," he suggested. Then: "And after you do, I know someone who is quite anxious to see you." He got up, with unnatural fluidity, and left the room.

Obediently I went over to the round mirror that rested on a desk in the corner, sat down in the chair before it, and looked. I gasped, staring at the mirror in fear, and then in fascination. I was…beautiful.

Before, I had never thought of myself as an ugly guy. Just average, normal. But the way I looked now was definitely not normal. Now, I looked like I belonged in advertisements—no, even better than that. And if this drastic change wasn't enough, then there was my eyes.

My deep, blood red eyes.

"Vampire," I ground out, studying the irises. But then a thought occurred to me—was Carlisle a vampire too? His eyes weren't red like mine…but then he had said 'we' when talking about being strong and fast…

I'm a vampire, I thought to myself. I drink blood. My head fell, of its own accord, into my hands.

And then I heard voices outside my door. "Is he alright?" asked a lovely voice, soft and distinctly feminine. I recognized the answering chuckle as Carlisle's. "See for yourself," he advised.

A scent like Carlisle's wafted into the room, just as distinct but different. It was airy and floral, like the smell of a lilac garden on a windy day. I turned immediately, faster than any human, and gasped again at what I saw—I was doing a lot of gasping lately.

She was beautiful. The most beautiful, breath-takingly gorgeous creature I had ever seen. She was slender and tall, though not nearly as tall as I was. Her long tresses were brilliant gold, laying loose about her shoulders and ending at the small of her back. Her eyes were the same topaz as Carlisle's, but his could never compare. They were perfect and captivating, demanding my full attention. And her body…flawless.

"Hello," I said breathlessly.

The woman seemed pleased at my reaction, and I could sense her looking me over, as well. Suddenly, the man in the mirror didn't seem so handsome after all. She smiled at me speculatively, coming over to sit on the bed with inhuman grace.

"Are you alright?" she asked finally, after a long pause.

I nodded honestly. Now that she was in the room, I felt absolutely fine.

"I'm a vampire," I stated with no emotion in my voice, coming over to sit by her on the bed. It wasn't good, it wasn't bad, it was just…true. "Yes, you are," the woman agreed, her voice casual, but I saw the apprehensive glance she flashed at me when she thought I wasn't looking.

"Are you? I mean, a vampire?" I inquired. "Your eyes aren't red…"

The woman nodded her head, and I saw that even that movement was beautiful. "The color will fade, eventually," she explained. "All of our eyes are the same."

"All…? How many of you are there?"

She smiled again, stunning me for a moment. "Thousands…but in our family there is Carlisle, Esme, Edward, me…and now, you." I enjoyed listening to her silky voice for a moment, and then got back to my interrogation.

"How did I become a vampire?" The beautiful woman looked at me a moment before asking her own question."What is your name?"

I replied automatically: "Emmett. Now how did I become a vampire?"

"Emmett," she repeated with a satisfied gleam in her eye, still ignoring my question. Then, seeming to realize this, she answered: "Carlisle changed you. He bit you, three days ago."

"But…why? How did he find me?" I asked. Memories came flooding back as I tried to remember what I had been doing three days ago—

I was hunting a bear…I found it…my gun wouldn't work…the bear was attacking me. The memories after that point were faint. But I did remember being picked up and whispered to, and going very, very fast. And then…pain.

"Carlisle didn't find you; I did," the beautiful woman admitted. "I was—hunting. You were almost dead from the loss of blood, and I knew I didn't have enough self-control to do it myself. So I took you to him."

My eyes narrowed. "Self control?" I thought aloud. She nodded at me, looking a little upset. "You'll understand that soon enough."

I shook my head in wonder, trying to process all of the information. It was hard to think coherently while looking into her butterscotch eyes.

"Why did you do that?" I asked, suddenly confused again. "What I mean to say is, people die everyday. Why didn't you let me die?" Once again, the woman responded to my question with one of her own. "Would you rather I had done that?" she asked, suddenly alert, and her perfect features were colored with barely-stifled panic.

Looking at her, there was no way I could say yes to that question.

"No," I assured her quickly. "Actually, I don't mind. I just wanted to know why." The woman's face relaxed in relief—and then filled with doubt again. "I'm not sure," she confessed. "It was very strange of me: usually I am not impulsive like that. But I just…couldn't let you die."

A strange thrill ran down my spine as she said the words—but then I noticed the expression on her face. I grinned, wickedly amused at her discomfort. "I'm flattered," I told her.

She looked away in embarrassment, and I smiled triumphantly. Maybe she did find me attractive, after all.

"Any more questions?" she asked in retort, making me a little embarrassed in turn. I hadn't really thought about how I was monopolizing the conversation. "No," I promised, smiling ruefully at her. She smiled back immediately.

"Thanks," I said with sincerity, after a short silence. She looked up in surprise as I added: "I don't know why you did it, but thanks."

"That's the last time you'll ever thank me for it," the woman warned, her full red lips curving downwards. She was upset again. "Thank you," I repeated, proving her wrong with a smirk. She laughed out loud at this, and the sound was musical, willowy. "You're welcome," she replied, giving up.

Hesitantly, her hand moved to touch mine.

The instant I felt her cool skin, my own freezing body burst into flames. That same thrill that I had felt just a moment ago ran down the length of my body. The immediate reaction was shocking—but it felt good.

"God," I gasped.

She laughed again. "Not quite," she disagreed, twining her fingers with mine.

"You can call me Rose."