This is a mature, dark themed story. Bella and Edward are not going to be the pure, perfect lovebirds that they are portrayed as in canon material.

There will mentions of rape, violence, depression/suicide, torture, drug addiction, and death. Depending on how you view it, there will be mentions of infidelity too. I am an author obsessed with sex and visceral love, so there will be a lot of smut.

As an author, it is my job to invoke emotion. I hope you enjoy the ride.

Disclaimer: Twilight and its characters belong to Stephanie Meyer.

Edward POV

I always feel it in my soul when she's born.

Something inside of me shifts, transforms; cold stone breaking away and coming to life. It is unsettling. It is riveting.

The sheet makes no sound as I rise from the bed. I dress quickly, and Rosalie watches with her crimson, feline eyes.

"You're going." She knows it is not to hunt, which is the only reason I ever leave.

I nod in resignation. We had occupied this house for years together- I wish I could say that I had lost track of time, but I hadn't. I felt every painful second without her.

"Kiss me."

It isn't a question, or a plea. It is a statement, a declaration of acceptance to our parting. The satin sheets still cling to each dip of her curved, naked body - much like I had for the past decade. The light of the rare sun makes her porcelain skin glow, and her golden hair pools onto the bed like a halo. She is a goddess. I avert my eyes.

She is not my goddess.

"Goodbye, Rosalie."

SS

"She really is lovely in every lifetime."

Alice, Jasper, and I now reside in Forks, Washington. The air is thick and wet in the clouds where we sit perched like owls in the trees. Even through the blanket of wet pine, the scent of my singer is sharp. We watch the high school students below with clear vision, and barely bridled thirst.

This is her senior year. Her hair is bouncing mahogany waves, her eyes endless brown depths, her lips small and full - centered on a beautiful, poetic face. She has taken on so many forms while I lay unchanging in this cursed body. She always steals my breath away.

There is a profound ache where my dead heart lies. "She is magnificent."

Alice and Jasper are enrolled there, to keep close to her. Her soul breeds danger - though I'm sure vampires don't abate that. They say that she moved from Phoenix, Arizona; that she came to live with her father, since her mother was irresponsible. Alice has befriended her. I am envious beyond words.

Every life, she passes through Forks, Washington. Her journey seems bound to this small, rainy part of North America.

Here is where I always wait for her - where we met for the first time all those years ago.

"I want to go to her." I grip the branch, feeling it splinter easily beneath my fingers.

"You'll kill them all." Jasper says, and there is no accusation in his tone. I want to hide my burgundy eyes from them, but there is no use. He is right. My control must be immaculate.

I drank from two humans a week ago - a woman and man hiking in the woods. I am not as unchecked as I was eighteen years ago, but I want to be clean - pure - for her. My blood lust is as strong as my devotion.

"Give yourself some time." Alice chides. She hangs upside down from a branch. Her face is youthful and permanently awash with vibrant emotion. Her hair is untamed like she is, splaying in all directions.

"How long?" I choke out. I can't believe I've survived on the same planet this long without touching her skin, kissing her.

Alice stares far ahead, unseeing. "A few years. She will be in her first year of graduate school." Her brow furrows. "Have you talked to the Volturi about this?"

I clench my jaw with fury and possessiveness. "No. She is not theirs to discuss."

Jasper can feel my rage because his gift is a curse. He does not try to abate me, though he can. His skin is muddled with scars from the Volturi.

"She can be taken from you."

I am almost to madness. "Will she be?"

"I can't see that far yet." Alice's word is law. If she sees it, it will be done.

"Let them try."

We are silent then, and just stare at the high school of Forks as the seconds continue to roll into infinity.

SS

Bella POV

My pencil taps aimlessly on the wooden table, marring it in my absent-mindedness. I check my watch. Fifteen minutes to go.

Hardly a soul ever shows up for biology tutoring. The slot is for appointments, but the sign on the door and the university website says "Walk-Ins" are welcome. Someone probably thought that would make tutoring more alluring. Apparently not.

It's a good time for studying, though, and I appreciate the opportunity.

The thesis I'm writing stares back at me, mocking. I had lost interest in the proposition shortly after I submitted it, and now that it was sealed - I felt trapped.

'The Theory of Darwinism Disproved' the title reads. At the time, I was so transfixed with combating evolutionists - they were becoming a wave, the next big political crowd - that it seemed I had cut my own foot off before I gave myself a change to stand.

There's a light rap on the door. It echoes off the empty walls of the tiny tutoring room, and I reply "Come in."

I glance at my watch again. There's only two minutes left of my obligatory session. I put forth my best face of sympathy and look up.

The blood freezes in my veins.

Golden eyes impale me, and I feel myself quiver - no, quake at the sight of him. His tussled hair is all alluring bronze and deep brunette. He is tall and taut with muscle. I am reminded of a feral, gorgeous predator - a jaguar.

I hear my breath leave my lungs. Something swells within me and erupts. My heart is impossibly large in this moment, and it is lodged into my throat. He is so beautiful. He is all that is light. He is the heavens. He is my king.

"Isabella." He speaks and I want to weep at the song of his voice. He caresses my name like a religion.

I swallow. "Call me Bella." Goosebumps dance on my flesh.

His eyes never leave mine. We are entranced. There is thunder, a whirlwind, a tsunami - and we are swept up together, crashing, colliding, melting into the throes of nothing and everything.

And then …

And then we are here. And normalcy reigns. I feel dizzy in the wake of such strange emotions, and I fight to gain composure as the ethereal feelings fade away. In their wake, there is but a sense of deja vu and confusion.

He stands completely still in the doorway.

"I'm sorry," I say, gathering my books as I stand, "This tutoring session is closed for today." I feel more in control now - more tangible - though that makes little sense. I am solid, and the void is gone.

He does not look dismayed at the news. On the contrary, it doesn't seem to make an impression on him at all.

"You're here for biology tutoring - are you not?"

A shuddering breath leaves him. A sadness seems to pass his features, and it is gone just as quickly. "I am here for you, Isabella."

I stare at him, and attempt to place his accent. European, I surmise. "I hardly have notoriety in biology tutoring, Mr...?"

I am standing at the edge of the table, wondering when I had begun to inch closer to him.

"Cullen. Edward Cullen."

His parents must be immigrants. I shift my books from one hip to the other and glance at my watch. I'm assuming he will get the hint.

"We'll be open again next Tuesday, from 130 to 430. Please e-mail your instructor or stop by then if you'd like a one-on-one session, Mr. Cullen."

There is heat in my face as I speak to him. Up close, he is flawless. His ivory skin is pulled over immaculate bone structure. When his tongue slowly runs over his lips, my attention is pulled to his full mouth.

"Will you .. be here?" He seems to struggle with this question. It is odd.

"No. I only tutor every other Thursday." I blink at him. "I assure you, Mr. Cullen, any tutor here will be able to assist you with what ever-"

"You are my preference, Isabella." He says this so profoundly that I haven't a clue where to begin the questions. I save them for myself for later.

"Bella," I insist, holding out my hand. "My pleasure."

A surge of cold rips through me as his hand touches mine. His skin feels like granite. I cannot look away from his amber eyes as he raises my hand to his lips. Lightning strikes the place where his mouth touches my flesh, leaving burning waves of want. Unchecked lust courses through me and an ache rises between my legs.

He stays bent over my wrist like that, praying to me. "We are not so informal where I am from. Forgive me."

If this man were to murder my mother in front of me, I would forgive him. I withdraw my hand.

"Yes, well," I clear my throat. I don't want to be rude, but my mind feels dizzied and my thoughts come slowly. "I must be going. Nice to meet you."

He nods, and steps to the side, allowing me to escape.

I am still entrapped even after I am far, far away.

Your reviews write this story. Thank you for reading. -S