My rage dulled a bit with the sudden, black humor. I could imagine how the girl would react to my kidnapping her. Of course, I rarely guessed her reactions right—but what other reaction could she have besides terror?

I wasn't sure how to manage that, though—kidnapping her. I wouldn't be able to stand being close to her for very long. Perhaps I would just deliver her back to her mother. Even that much would be fraught with danger. For her.

And also for me, I realized suddenly. If I were to kill her by accident… I wasn't certain exactly how much pain that would cause me, but I knew it would be multifaceted and intense.

I had never fought more than playfully with Emmett or Jasper—just horsing around. I felt sick at the thought of really trying to hurt Jasper…

No, not that. Just to block him. That was all.

I concentrated on Alice, memorizing Jasper's different venues of attack.

As I did that, her visions shifted, moving further and further away from the Swan's house. I was cutting him off earlier…

Stop that, Edward! It can't happen this way. I won't let it.

I didn't answer her, I just kept watching. As I watched, I saw the future shift and mold. Yes, I could see it now. I would not fight Jasper—instead, I would hide the girl. The thought of being alone with the girl filled me with simultaneous excitement and horror.

It was too dangerous. I could kill her! But what other option did I have?

None, I had none.

I knew Jasper. He would remain unmoved. He knew the consequences of flouting the rules, and I knew he would not allow—

"Edward," Alice gasped aloud.

I scanned her thoughts, and within the same millisecond, I had slammed the brakes. My body was moving on its own accord, now, my mind too busy reeling from what I'd seen.

No, I needed all the time I could get.

Alice would stall him, here, I could see that now. I did not see the forest as I ran; I saw what Alice saw. Jasper tracking us. The girl wide-eyed, scrunched on my back as I raced through the wilderness. And the one image I refused to see.

I roared with outrage. Alice's mind blurred as I reached the Swan residence. I felt my phone vibrate, and I crushed it in my hand. I hesitated a moment—the window or the door? An image of her skin cut on broken glass made the decision for me as I broke in through the front door.

I burst into her room, a murderous monster of the night. Instantly, the flames of her scent enveloped me, and I stopped breathing. My muscles wound tight, my mouth filled with thick poison, I wondered if I'd be strong enough to last even this second.

She shifted in her small bed, her covers barely hanging on, her sheets twisted around her legs.

"No."

I froze. She was breathing hard, turning her head back and forth. Still asleep.

No, Bella, I will be strong enough. God help me, I had to be. I need to protect you.

I can't lose you.

My entire body trembled as I inched toward her sleeping form. I knew that Alice could only stall Jasper for so long, yet I knew also that I was in very serious danger of losing myself—and the girl—in this very moment.

Still asleep, her head bobbed around to face me. Her brows furrowed, she seemed concerned.

If only she knew. There was plenty for her to be concerned about. Me, for instance.

"No," she breathed out again, and I took for encouragement. No matter how I would berate myself for this moment later, I had no options. Time had run out.

Bracing myself, I knelt by the girl's bedside. I placed one vise-like hand over her mouth, and I picked up her body with the other. Within seconds, we were gone.

Fleeing.

.

.

.

My strategy was simple: first, no breathing; second, run faster than you ever have; third, don't eat the girl.

The first two steps were the easy part. The third, well. Her heart so close to mine, the beat shook my entire body. Her face so close to mine, the breath nearly undid me every minute.

I didn't dare to look at her.

Oh God, what had I done? I could feel the tension in every inch of my body, a string so tightly wound that it was bound to break any second. I felt a flash of gratitude that that girl was still sound asleep.

Was that normal? Shouldn't humans awake at being touched—not to mention being touched by an inhumanly cold being and then face the freezing winds at a race through the trees? Yet she hadn't fought or made any move to resist…

My resolve broke, and I looked down at the girl. Unwittingly, my legs slowed. I could see it, the blood pulsing through her neck; it would have undone me were I not shocked by something far more exasperating.

The girl gazed at me, wide-eyed, with a faint smile on her lips.

Curiosity flared, overpowering self-disgust, and I longed to know what thoughts lurked behind those eyes. I couldn't help it; I smiled faintly back. I longed to speak with her, to ask her, but three harsh realities prevented it. First, she was surely a glance away from terror (and I didn't want to hurry into that portion); second, I was surely a temptation away from killing her (and I knew I would not be taking any breaths this hour); and third, Jasper was surely a moment away from catching us (and I would not know how to fight with her there).

So I smiled back and kept running.

.

.

.

About half an hour into our run, I realized that the girl was uncomfortable. A grimace clouded her expression, and she periodically wriggled her body in a way that unsettled me. Ordinarily, I would have ignored it—we were on the run for her life, after all—but I couldn't ignore it. No, her squirminess felt like fear, and I was running out of distractions. She was my prey, and I was the predator. My efforts at rescuing her were comical now, for my every instinct was reminding me that she would not survive the next three minutes. I laughed without humor, and I searched the rising sun for some semblance of hope or of willpower.

One of the perks of being a vampire is our unparalleled vision. For instance, I could gaze at the sun that was so many millions of miles away, and I could see the flames flicker and undulate on its surface. Tiny, imperceptible, but nonetheless existent. Because of those tiny flames, life on earth was sustained.

As a creature of the night, I did not need the sunlight in order to survive. In fact, the sun was only a threat to me and the others like me. It exposed us. Still, we needed the light for the simple reason that it kept our prey alive.

I glanced down once more at the prey breathing in my arms, and I ached. I wanted so badly to be the sun, not the predator. Although dangerous and destructive if she got too close, the sun gave her light and life and hope. I did not want to be stuck here, forced to take her life because of the idiotic constraints of a Darwinian existence. My grip on her arm tightened, and she gasped.

I glanced down and saw it. The blood that was always too close to the surface now swirled in a purplish hue beneath her wrist. I gulped.

"Edward," she whispered.

With what felt like herculean effort, I slowly drew my eyes from the blood in her wrist to her eyes, which were closed. Nonetheless, I could see the lashes which glistened with tears.

I'd hurt her.

My sprint slowed to a run, then a jog, then a halt. I kept my eyes focused on the little rivers flowing from her eyes. I kept my heart centered on the fractures they engraved in my heart. Everything in me shrank from the unbearable pain of knowledge—I was hurting her.

I bent to set the girl on her feet. What would she do now? Scream? Run? We were far enough in the wilderness that I knew she wouldn't attract attention. Still, I neither had the time nor the willpower to save her if she ran from me. Instead of rising again, I stayed down, crouched beneath her, unwilling to look her in the eyes.

I knew I looked pitiful to her. I felt pitiful. I couldn't stand to be what I was, not when placed in direct contrast with this angel, and all that she was.

"What the hell?"

But there wasn't a touch of anger; no, the girl was laughing. It started with a chuckle, but now she was laughing loudly up at the sky. She started to cough, too, and I shot up to inspect her. I was anxious—was this normal? She wouldn't choke, would she?

"Stop that," she twitted, waving at my hands (which I'd absentmindedly held out, as if to steady her).

I stared at her.

"I'm fine, really, just a little surprised. What brought this on?"

And she did sound fine. Why wasn't she going into shock? Was I going into shock? I still wasn't breathing, but I knew that if I were, they would be quick rapid gulps of it. What brought this on? She asked as if I'd asked her to dinner, not kidnapped her.

My mind raced through a thousand possible responses in that moment. What brought this on? Well, you see, I am murderous vampire who wants to kill you because you smell so good, and my brother, well, he's a murderous vampire who wants to kill you because you saw too much, and, ironically, I'm now a murderous vampire who wants to save you from being killed by both myself and my brother, and I'm not doing a great job at either one.

No, I definitely wouldn't be answering her question. But I longed to confide in her, to have her trust me. With what was left of my breath, the words, "You're in danger from some people—" (myself included) "—and I need to keep you safe." Resisting the temptation to look at the injury, I looked up and added, "I'm sorry for hurting your wrist."

"Oh, that," she murmured, looking down at her wrist.

"Yes, that," I murmured back, equally transfixed by her wrist. I reached for it, stepping in.

It was the wrong decision. I could feel her heartbeat; it throbbed in her wrist and in the very air. I leaned in—

Bella drew in a jagged breath—had she not been breathing?—and I started. I stood a hundred feet away, my palms stinging from the loss of warmth. I wanted it inside me. The warmth. The blood. My whole body warmed and thrilled at the thought of it. I thought of her in my arms, her warmth streaming into every part of me as I took what I'd needed for so long.

I audibly choked at the thought. I felt like I was on fire. How was I supposed to protect her from anything in this state? I knew we needed to leave, and soon, but what could I do? Not killing her was killing me.

I needed to say something, tell her what I needed, but in order to do that, I would need to breathe.

Would she be safe here with me breathing around her? She was still a hundred feet away; I was well out of sight. If I killed her now, she wouldn't even see it coming. She would feel no pain.

No, I could not breathe now. My only two concerns in the world right now were her happiness and my pain. Suddenly, her death felt inevitable, like mitigating the pain of it was the only thing I could do for her. Surely it would only be right to kill her now before the fear set in. If I could not save her, perhaps I could do this much for her?

"It's okay, really," she called out.

I started. For a moment, I wondered if she had read my mind.

I cocked my head at the strange girl and realized, no, she was referring to her bruised wrist. Though it felt like an eternity to me, it had only been seconds since I'd disappeared from her. I marveled at the thought of it—this frail human comforting me. Did she think I was afraid?

I laughed, realizing that I was, indeed, afraid. This tiny, insignificant human has become the focal point of my entire life, and she terrified me.

I could not breathe behind this tree; if I did, I would kill her. I could not hide from the girl any longer. I slowly stalked toward her, the walking guillotine. My mind was a flurry of panic. I could not bear to kill her, I knew. I worried I could not bear to breathe without killing her, either. I was about five feet away from her now.

I recalled the table in Biology class, shredded at the corners with the effort it took to not kill her then. I glanced around me, and then back at the girl. She stood frozen; my stance reflected in her eyes terrified me.

Not close enough.

I took two steps closer. She was three feet from me now. I could see her pulsing neck, her flushed face, and—my only hope—her wide eyes. Yes, it would be only her eyes that could save me now.

I held out one finger to the girl.

"Wait," I mouthed. "Don't be scared."

Eyes fixed on hers, I crouched down. Palms flat on the ground, I slowly began to breathe in.

Ah! The pain was excruciating. I could not close my eyes; I strained to keep them focused on the girl, but I felt them rolling to the back of my head. White-hot pain seared through me, and my hands sank into the earth beneath me.

I could see it there, now—fear. Her breath hitched, but she gazed back at me, unblinking. Her pulse thudded like a migraine that filled my head and set a thick film on the back of my tongue. All I could taste was her, but I could not taste enough of her.

I heard a rustle, and the thudding grew louder. My eyes snapped open—when had I allowed them to close?—and I saw the girl had stepped toward me. Toward me.

The monster in me thrilled with anticipation.

"No, Bella." It came out like a moan. I stared at her with wide eyes, wondering what she would do and what I would do.

After a moment, she raised her eyebrows and asked, "So someone wants to kill me, huh?"

So nonchalant! "Yes, but I won't let him."

"Why not?" Her incredulity! How could she doubt when my entire existence was now shaped around keeping her alive!

"I don't want you to die, Bella," I said through gritted teeth.

Something flashed in her eyes, but she quickly rearranged her expression to hide the thought.

"So what now, then?"

Here was the hard part. How do I explain that I wanted to save her but didn't have a way to do it? How could I reveal how difficult it was not to kill her without frightening her more?

I was afraid of touching her. I didn't think I could do it again. Her pulse was still thudding through me, threatening to lull me into her trance.

I closed my eyes, and listened. We were deep in the brush of the Oregon coast, and there were few thoughts for me to glean from. Oh! Except one. I found him now—a young man on a drive from visiting his parents. His car was old, not very fast, but it would have to do.

I opened my eyes. "Can you walk?" I asked her.

She nodded firmly, her fingers twitching.

Without saying anything, I turned around and began walking.

.

.

.

Bella was not good at walking. Her feet caught on every root, it seemed, and her hands were constantly outstretched, as if to catch herself. The forest was covered in thorns, and I was in constant terror of her skin getting pricked by one. If she bled even a drop, I knew that neither of us would have a chance.

I was jittery, on edge, because part of me wanted that to happen.

"Edward, can we talk about this?" she panted.

"What do you want to talk about?" Guarded.

"We're in the middle of nowhere! How long are you thinking of making us walk for? And why? It's not like someone could find us here in the middle of nowhere! Besides, who is putting us in danger? I'm a nobody! I'm sure it's fine. Let's just go home, okay?"

I whirled at her, "Bella, you don't know what you're talking about."

"Then tell me! Please! Just tell me what's going on. You can trust me."

I knew that. It was me that I couldn't trust. "I'm sorry, Bella." I turned and kept walking.

"No!" she moved to grab my arm, and I swung it out of the way. Naturally, she lost her balance and tripped—into me. My hands locked on her arms.

"Please," she whispered, breathing right into my face.

I gulped and looked away. "Bella, I trust you inexorably. It is not that. But I'm dangerous Bella, I'm dangerous, and Jasper is too, and—"

"Your… Your brother is trying to kill me?" she asked.

"Yes, I made a mistake, and—"

"A mistake? You mean when you saved my life?"

"Yes, I—"

"So you regret it?"

"No, I mean—"

"Honestly, Edward, I don't know why you even bother."

"I, Bella—" How infuriating! "—I told you, Bella. I don't want you to die."

She glared back for a moment. She must have seen something in my eyes, however, because her eyes melted.

"Is that such a difficult thing to prevent, Edward?" The words came out without irony. They were gentle, and I realized that the girl knew much, much more than I had realized.

I searched her eyes for fear, shock, anything normal to a human, but all I found was the warm trust that ached almost as much as her scent.

"Unimaginably so." I winced as the words came out, but I could not deny it.

Her eyes searched mine, then she nodded. "Okay, what can I do to help?"

"What can you do to help?" I asked the sky. I laughed blackly, and ran my hands through my hair. Isn't it obvious that I have no idea what I'm doing?

My mind ran through the options again.

First, run with her in my arms. I tried that, and almost killed her.

Second, leave her, steal a car, and come back for her. During which time, Jasper would find her and kill her.

Third, walk with her behind me and hope we get to a car before Jasper gets to us.

It all seemed so pointless. A fourth option spun ironically into my head—just wait here for Jasper. I laughed.

Could Bella help with any of these?

"Yes! I mean, if I'm going to die, don't I at least get a say in how it happens?"

"You're not going to die, Bella," I forced out through gritted teeth. Damn, I was out of breath again.

"I'm not an idiot, Edward," she retorted through gritted teeth. "Just tell me what's going on!"

She winced, and I realized I was hurting her again. I hadn't even realized that my hands were still on her shoulders. I winced, too, letting my arms drop to my side.

I shook my head. She opened her mouth, ready to retort.

For the second time, I held up a finger. Wait.

The ground could not hold me back last time. What would prevent me from hurting her this time? The hunger was so much stronger now. I looked at her frail figure—just silk over glass—and I realized that the only thing stronger than my hunger was my desire to protect her.

Slowly, warning her with my eyes, I lifted my hands and molded them to her jawline. So close to her neck, I felt my hands throbbing.

I closed my eyes.

I opened my eyes, and I took a deep breath.

Every muscle in my body contracted. With her face so close to mine, I breathed in air that was one hundred percent Bella. My hands fell from her face, and I stumbled back. Run, Bella, run.

"Edward!" The girl stepped forward.

I couldn't stop myself. I could only see it happening. The girl, the only girl in the world, stumbled right into the predator's grasp. It was hunched over, head at shoulder level, its hands like a vise on the girl's shoulders. It leaned in—

"I'm sorry," she whispered.

It—me—I laughed darkly. "Sorry?" I spat out. "Why in the world should you be sorry?" I was a maniac. "I'm sorry, Bella. Okay? I'm sorry! I tried to save you! I tried! I can't! I can't do this anymore. I can't save you. I keep trying and it is hell and God what did I just do? What am I doing?

"I'm not like this, I swear. I never was. I have impeccable control. I was second best—Carlisle is better, but I'm good, Bella, I swear I am. I'm not like this. I don't want to kill you." Panting, dangerously out of control, and now the words were out there. Bella could no longer guess at it.

Edward Cullen is a monster.

Her pulse raced. To be honest, I was amazed that she was still alive. I was gasping for air, not that I needed it, but I couldn't stop. My hands shook and my head was spinning.

Silk skin brushed against my hand, trembling. Bella looked up from our hands, and whispered, "You can do it, Edward."

She must have meant it as encouragement, a vote of confidence that I wouldn't kill her, but it sounded almost like… permission to go ahead.

"No, I can't. I won't."