Thick cloud cover hid me from even the stars as I stood beneath the forest canopy, watching Bella's house. I had placed myself and my family in her power when I saved her from Tyler Crowley's van. If she ever told the truth, we would be in danger. I had watched day and night, for fear she would tell someone, but she embraced my lie and made it her own.

By the time I was certain she would keep my secret, I was too fascinated to stop coming. Partly it was her humanity — her absolute normality — that captivated me. She cooked dinner for her father and spent long hours pouring over homework, things that never happened at my home. Her every move intrigued me, from washing dishes to brushing her hair.

I'd learned much about her. Bella loved her father, caring for his needs as much as he did hers. She missed her mother deeply, and her love was reciprocated. Though Bella's thoughts were hidden to me, she didn't gush with Jessica on the phone over inconsequential, teenager things. To my delight, I also learned Bella talked in her sleep. From outside I could catch a word or two, every now and again, but even my sharp hearing couldn't catch whispered words through solid walls — especially with Charlie's snores in the background.

For weeks now, I'd studied Bella at school and at home, and I thought I knew her well, but she surprised me with her anger today. When I realized Mike was going to ask her to the dance, I couldn't breathe. Thanks to my talent, I knew teenage girls were horrified at the thought of sitting home alone during a high school dance. I told myself to be glad Bella would be going. Mike was a natural choice. But what I felt was second only to Bella's first day in Forks. I wanted to slaughter Mike Newton. Same chair, different victim.

She said she was going to Seattle, sparing both me and Mike. But why go to Seattle at all? Why hadn't she asked someone to the dance? I was so relieved, so curious, that I broke the treaty I'd made with the monster inside me. I spoke to her.

And then Bella accused me of the most ridiculous irony imaginable. She thought I regretted saving her life. Here I sat, thirsting for her blood, and she thought I wished her dead. Had I truly been that cold? She didn't understand how hard I fought every day to keep her alive, how desperately I wished her to live.

The damage was done now — she thought I hated her. Bella had said no to Mike to spare Jessica's feelings, but then I could hear Eric from across the school, thinking of her, planning how he would ask her out. She had no reason to turn him down. Bella would go to the girls' choice dance with Eric.

I didn't want to see the elation on his face when she accepted his invitation, but I didn't have much choice. The parking lot was full of humans, forcing me to walk at a slow pace and witness this little drama. Bella turned him down.

The joy I felt was indescribable, fiercer than hunting, more exhilarating than running.

When Tyler began working up the courage to ask her, I couldn't help myself. I'd seen Eric's expression but not hers. Was she politely maintaining her Seattle story for Mike's sake?

I backed my car out to box in her truck. Bella wasn't polite this time, and when I finally stopped laughing, I wondered at her all the more. Unlike most girls, she wasn't flattered by her flock of admirers, she was irritated. Where others might yield out of courtesy, she grew angry. Why?

And then while she was cooking tonight, Bella began weeping. More than ever, I cursed my inability to hear her mind. What heartache was causing those tears? Was she missing her mother? Did she regret turning down all her admirers? Was she sacrificing her own feelings — I couldn't bring myself to even think the word love — for Mike out of loyalty to Jessica? Jessica would not have been so loyal, not by half, but Bella was constantly surprising me with her generous spirit. And then a very disturbing thought occurred to me: was she pining for someone else? For me? The very thought should have filled me with dismay. Hope was what I felt — foolish, vain hope. After all, she thought I hated her.

I wanted to know what was in her thoughts. I needed to know. If she was pining because of Mike and Jessica, I would find a way to make things right for her, even if it left me cold and dead again. If her tears were shed for me, I would risk anything, break every rule, to end her heartache. Bella's tears were unbearable.

Charlie extinguished the lights one by one and then, a short while later, he began snoring. What I was about to do was wrong. It was a mistake.

It was the act of a predator.

As I'd seen Bella do many times, I retrieved the spare key from under the eaves and let myself into her house. Returning the key, I pulled the door closed silently behind me and locked it again. No floorboard betrayed me as I moved up the stairs to her bedroom door. At the top of the stairs, I paused, steeling myself, weighing the strength of my will. In all my decades walking this world, I had never done anything so recklessly stupid as I was about to do now.

Her door swung easily under my hand, and her mouthwatering scent assaulted me. It hung as a thick miasma in the air, radiating from her school clothes lying in a heap on the floor, from her quilt, her pillow, from her sleeping form so still and vulnerable. She was warm under that quilt, warmer than she ever was at school, her exquisite scent rising off her like steam. I took a stealthy step into her room and shut the door behind me.

The thirst almost took me then. I held my breath, desperately fighting the beast that was clenching my stomach, drawing venom to my teeth. Temptation mocked me with visions — me laying beside her, my cold hand stifling her screams, her hot blood pulsing down my throat for hours on end. The last time my will wavered, I ran, but Bella was just prey then, just another human girl. This time, I looked beyond the night of pleasure to the dawn when she would lie cold and still in my arms. Dead. I imagined Bella in this self-same bed, her blank eyes staring wide at the ceiling, her cold hands stiff, her cheeks ice-white. The sweet would become bitter — the warmth of her lifeblood turning to hellfire, her luscious taste burning forever on my lips. And then I saw the sympathetic look Carlisle would give me, the sorrow in Esme's eyes.

I wouldn't hurt her. I would not.

Her eyelids fluttered as her eyes flitted back and forth in REM sleep. I'd studied sleep patterns, of course, as part of my medical training, and in the cold terminology of a textbook, it was just another bodily function. At times, I'd heard sleeping minds in passing, thoughts and images flashing by too fast for me to follow. The irony was not lost on me. While waking, we vampires could speak, act, think faster than the mortals around us. But in their dreams, they surpassed us in every way. Watching her now, her hand twitching reflexively, her eyes darting about in visions I could only imagine, a new feeling took me. Envy.

I'd never watched a human sleep. I couldn't remember a single dream, not one from my brief seventeen years as a mortal. What was it like, escaping the confines of this world for a few hours? What was she doing in that dream-world where all things were possible? I knelt beside her bed and searched her face, hoping for some insight into her thoughts. I was Tantalus in Tartarus, her dreaming mind mere inches from my face.

The monster was quiet now, and that strange, protective instinct pushed its way into my thoughts again. I should go. It was folly to stay here in this close, heavily-scented space, baiting the blood-lust. But another part of me wanted to touch her, to caress her face, to take her into my arms. Her single touch during the lab in Biology was so warm, so soft. So alive.

My touch was no doubt cold to her, and my hand on her warm skin would jar her from her dreams. The very thought of robbing her of a dream made my chest ache. I compromised, letting my fingertips brush the faded cloth of her quilt. I could almost see her sweet, inviting scent rise off the blanket like disturbed dust.

She sighed deeply in her sleep, exhaling into my face. Hot, moist, delicious... I lurched away as the monster suddenly sprang, my hands reaching for her as I pulled away. Even holding my breath could not tame the monster. I trembled, muscles fighting each other, as I forced myself to take one step back, then another, all the way to her closet door.

Too close!

Anger coursed through me. Why was I here, tormenting myself? Was I insane? Why was I endangering the most precious creature alive? That was unforgivable. Why could I not simply let her alone?

The anger ebbed, leaving me chill. Why must she have such overwhelmingly luscious blood? Had her scent been like other humans, I could risk being close. It would be difficult, but not impossible. Why must she be such an enigma? If I could have heard her thoughts, I wouldn't have had to watch her so closely, examining her eyes and cheeks and lips, to understand her. I wouldn't have had to study her. Why must she be so unpredictable? Half the males of the school desired her, and she rebuffed one and all. Half the females resented her yet feigned friendship. Where others with such power as hers used it to attack and to control, she was kindhearted and loyal.

If she had only one of these traits, my lot would have been tolerable, but in her all these things were combined, and it was more than I could resist. I had come to cherish her, and it was wrong for me to cherish her. I told myself that if I had any tender feeling for her at all, I would march right out of this room, out of this house, and out of her life forever. But I couldn't.

I didn't want to.

Making my second, fateful compromise of the night, I sat in her rocking chair. Here was a boundary that would be safe, if safety were possible at all in this intoxicating room. Was there a boundary I could give myself that would keep her safe and still let her into my life? I almost laughed at my own folly. There was no safe distance from me. I had her scent in my mind now, and even if I simply left and never came back, I would still be a threat to her. But I wouldn't be an ever-present threat. She would have a normal, human life. Her heart would go on beating, her warmth would not cool, her blood would forever be her own, until death carried her to the sweet rest reserved for those who were not damned. Those who were not like me.

But what would become of her? A clammy, clawing anger seized me. Mike Newton. That's what would become of her. I didn't have Alice's talents, but I had seen his thoughts. Bella had no idea the hopes he had for her, the hunger. He wanted her, to take for himself and keep as a prized treasure. Even when his thoughts went beyond merely bedding her, he didn't see her. He didn't know how much she missed her mother. He didn't understand the depth of her loyalty. He didn't comprehend the keenness of her intelligence or the tenderness of her affection.

Would I truly walk away from her to let her fall in love with someone like Mike Newton, someone who could not possibly comprehend the wondrously complex woman she was? Could I resign her to a life with someone who could not possibly love her the way she deserved?

But what did she deserve? A dream opened before me, as vivid as one of Alice's visions. Me, my heart beating, my skin warm to her. Me, holding her in my arms, feeling nothing but love for her. No murderous blood-lust, no vicarious human experiences — simply love, pure and undefiled. I felt a weight in my chest, as though I was being crushed. What was this ache, this longing?

I angrily pushed the vision away. Why was I fantasizing about life that never could be? She and I were born almost a hundred years apart. We were never, ever meant to be! All I could offer her was death. Even if Carlisle were right and we weren't damned, the best I could offer her was a stone-cold eternity of monstrous thirst. The mere thought was unforgivable. Even if I still had a soul, it would be lost the moment I let Carlisle's teeth pierce her skin and curse her to an eternity of night.

Her leg jerked suddenly, her lips moving silently, breaking me out of my reverie. With an intensity that was almost painful, I longed to hear her thoughts. I closed my eyes in yet another futile attempt to hear her.

"Edward!" Her voice was surprised, delighted. I froze.

"Edward," she murmured, nuzzling her pillow. Then she rolled over and sighed deeply.

For me! It was for me that she had cast Mike and the others aside!

For me, she had wept. For me, she was denying herself the joys of youth. It was for me, but it wasn't my fault. I had kept my distance. I had given her no sign of love or interest. I had not even made any overtures of friendship. There was no way she could know I was watching her. This was her own free choice. And her choice... was me.

The revelation left me dizzy — the cold despair of hell and the fierce fire of joy whirling through me. Like her scent, so deliciously tormenting and beloved, Bella was both punishment and paradise.

I hadn't been afraid since the day Carlisle took me back, but I was afraid now. My distance hurt her, but my thirst could kill her. My affection could protect her as I had that icy morning, protect her from a life with someone like Newton. My strength of will... If I were strong enough to let her get close, my strength might even give her joy.

Not close enough to touch. That would be the boundary. I would not touch her, not in affection, not in thirst. I would never touch her. But I could let her get close enough to see her smile, to hear her speak my name, to feel the warmth radiating from her.

It would certainly give me joy. It was a perilous road to paradise. It was dangerous to everyone I loved, Bella not the least. It was fundamentally selfish. But the alternative was to leave her, to hurt her and to turn my back on the heaven I'd found. I could be strong enough. I had to be. It was the only way to silence her tears, to retain what humanity she'd awoken in me, and to leave her whole and heavenly.

I walked to her window and unlocked it. In the future, this would be quicker and less risky than using the front door. And there would be a future, I realized with satisfaction. Bella had been safe with me in her room for half the night. It opened with a creak, but Bella didn't even twitch, and Charlie's snores continued unabated. Still, I should bring some oil to keep it from squeaking next time. Taking a deep breath of the clean night air, I climbed up onto her roof and pushed the window closed. A quick jump to the ground, and then I was running through the forest, the wind washing me clean of her scent.

I would let her get close.