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EPOV: Chapter 8: Please Don't Go

Let's run away from these lies

Back to yesterday, safe tonight

I feel the sun creeping up like tick tock

I'm trying to keep you in my head but if not

Let's just keep running from tomorrow with our lips locked

You got my begging, begging, begging,

Baby please don't go

If I wake up tomorrow will you still be here

I don't know, if you feel the way I do

Baby please don't run away, from my bed

I held Bella in my arms while she cried, the salty smell of her tears filling the air, her body shuddering against my own. I had been a fool to consider leaving her, even more of a fool to believe it would make her better, make her happier, or keep her safe. Here she lay in my arms, sobs racking her body, seeming to empty her of months' worth of pain and heartache.

My mind flashed over this evening, my anger boiled at the perfect memory. When Bella had left the meadow, I had followed her, remaining hidden in the trees. If she had moved on with Ephraim Black's grandson, I would accept it, but I still wanted to make sure she was safe. When she had arrived to her house, she sat – perfectly frozen and shaking in her truck. It was then I decided to run into the woods – giving her privacy to pull herself together and talk with Jacob.

Hunting quickly, eager to return to Bella, I gave myself over to my senses, wandering deeper and deeper into the woods behind her home. A few miles south I found a small herd of deer and quickly drained seven of them, surprising even myself with the quickness of the errand. Too soon, I felt, I was returning back to the Swan home. I shook my head darkly, remembering how I felt enough time had passed to give Bella and Jacob some privacy before returning to eavesdrop on their conversation.

Anger had ignited in me when I heard Jacob's passionate confession, when he had dared to claim her as his, but all that could be forgiven until I had heard her frightened pleas. "Please Jake! Stop! You're hurting me!" The rage had bubbled over, spilling uncontrollably through my body. In a thousandth of a second, I was in the house, in the room, restraining him from further harming her – or so I thought. His parting words to her, that she was better dead than with me, impacted her deeply. Now here she lay, in my arms, exhausted and spent, tears drying on her cheeks, pitiful sniffles signaling the nearing end to her outpouring.

"Bella, my love," I whispered. These were the first words I had said since his departure. "Bella, do you want to talk about it?"

Her breathing was ragged, but I felt her straighten in my arms, leaning back to peer up into my face. My dark t-shirt was now damp with her tears and clung to my chest, her fists still tangled in the wet material. "Not right now. We can talk about Jake – later. We need to talk about, what happened – last night. But I don't know if I can right now. I just feel so empty," her voice broke and choked on the words.

I nodded my understanding and with a feather light touch, brushed her hair from her face. "Of course. You've had quite a day, perhaps a shower and some food will make you feel better." As if answering, her stomach growled loudly, snarling its hunger, and she laughed. It was still a beautiful sound, but only an empty echo of what it had once been. I repositioned my arm to support the inside of her knees and scooped her up, pressing her tightly against my chest. Slowly I walked over to the tiny table in the kitchen and set her down at a chair. Pressing my lips to her forehead I whispered, "Let me make you something," and then turned to open the refrigerator.

The door opened easily, a bright bluish white light illuminating the scattered contents – there was produce, eggs, milk, assorted juices, and other unrecognizable human food. I had never cooked for myself as a human, and even if I had, surely cooking had changed somewhat in the last century. Puzzled, I pulled out a cartoon of eggs, a loaf of bread, and some vegetables. Hoping for some clue as to what would be good paired together, I peered over my shoulder towards Bella, and she sat stiffly in the chair, eyes glossed over, with a distant expression on her face.

I would have to do this on my own then.

Carefully, I set the eggs down, then the bread, and the assorted vegetables, and then reached back in for a bag of cheese for good measure. I pulled two slices of bread from the load and looked around the room, remembering that Bella enjoyed toast but unable to locate the little white toaster that typically sat on her counter near the stove. Pushing aside a few pizza boxes, I discovered the toaster pushed further back on the counter. I slipped a slice of bread into each slot, and then ever so slowly pushed down on the lever. Now the challenge: breaking the eggs without destroying them, I peeked over my shoulder again – still she looked as if her mind were somewhere else. A shiver ran down my spine as I remembered her reaction in the meadow, utterly convinced that she had lost her mind, was trapped within it, and her body laid unattended, unoccupied elsewhere. Was this what she would look like? Her body here stiff and still while her mind enjoyed a more happy existence?

I busied my hands with the task of making scrambled eggs, with spinach, tomatoes, peppers, and onions, covering it with cheese and piling it onto buttered toast. It smelled revolting, utterly disgusting, as its fragrance wafted up from the plate. Pouring Bella a glass of juice, I sat down next to her, sliding her plate closer to her and gently shaking her shoulders. She seemed to return to me then, slightly dazed and still distant, but she acknowledged the food in front of her. The fork speared the meal, one bite at a time, and I encouraged her with each swallow. Barely finishing half of the egg dish, she pushed it away stating she was full. My eyes took in the large portion remaining on her plate then her too slender figure, sunken cheeks, and dark eyes. "No, Bella, I need you to eat more," she did not acknowledge my request. "Bella, it smells terrible, I need you to finish eating this." Her fingers gripped the fork and began spearing bits of food again, she would return it to her mouth absently, then chew and swallow. Then she would repeat the process until only a few bites remained on her plate. With glazed over eyes, she returned the fork to the plate, and then continued to star off into the distance.

With one hand, I removed her plate, setting it in the sink in a blur of motion, and then returned to her side. "Bella, let's get you showered, you'll feel better afterwards, then we can talk, or you can sleep, or whatever you feel like you need to do." Numbly she nodded her agreement, rising to her feet, and ascending the stairs. I remained back as she entered her room, and it appeared almost robotic as she walked to the dresser pulling two drawers out for clothes, and then returned to the doorway to exit into the hall and enter the bathroom. My head cocked to the side as she sat on the floor next to the bathtub, arms crossed under her head as she leaned into the side of the tub.

"Bella?"

No answer.

"Bella, love?"

Still no answer.

In two strides I was at her side, one arm cradling her body while the other turned on the water and adjusted the temperature. "Bella, love – do you need help?" I was not sure if I could help with this, even if she needed it, and remain unaffected. Even with the thought of assisting her with removing her clothes, I could feel the familiar ache return low in my belly. I leaned my lips closer to ear and gently whispered, "Bella, love …"

As I whispered in her ear, she turned her head slightly so that our lips were now only a few inches apart. Her eyes slid closed and she pressed her lips to mine. The fire ignited within me immediately, her arms snaking behind my neck, drawing me closer. Pulling slightly back, I heard her groan with pleasure. Against my will, my lips began peppering her eyes and cheeks with kisses, then returned to her lips, down her chin and traced her jaw with my icy tongue.

The steam swirled around us, heightening her scent and illuminating a new scent in the air – the now familiar smell of her arousal. I moaned against her throat, feeling the uncomfortable tightness in my pants. Her lips were kissing each inch of me, her fingers deftly uncovering the skin not yet exposed. Shock hit me as I felt my shirt fall to the floor of the bathroom, her warm fingers exploring my chest, arms, and stomach.

My arms wrapped around her, pulling her closer to me, delighting in the skin to skin contact. I could not even recall how or when her shirt and bra had been removed, but now felt my fingers sliding towards the front of her jeans, flicking the button open and slowly pulling the zipper down. "God, Bella I want you."

"Edward," she breathed in between kisses and licks on my skin. I could feel the familiar fire building inside me, pushing me forward, urging me to be one with her, to claim her as mine, to be joined together intimately. It was then that I pulled back slightly, her jeans now forgotten, only the small fabric of her panties and my pants between us, I looked her in the eyes and whispered, "I want you Bella, but I need to know you want me as well. I need you to know you are awake and not asleep and that we are really doing this."

It had been over a century since I had prayed, not believing that God could care for one such as me, but now, in her arms, the steam dancing around us, her scents filling my senses, needing to be whole with her, I prayed. I begged. I pleaded that she would want me the same as I wanted her, that she needed me as I needed her. Ragged breathing filled the canyon between us, her eyes dark with desire, fingers curled into my skin, cheeks flushed.

"Yes, Edward, I want you, only you, always you," she whispered. My lips crashed down against hers with hunger and longing, claiming her as mine.

A/N: Thank you so much for the wonderful reviews! It was such a wonderful surprise today to find them in my email. I hope you are all enjoying the story. I'm sharing with you a teaser for my new story that I'm working on. It will be my first ever AH - I'm toying with the idea of having vamps in the story, but have not reached a final decision. Currently will be written 100% BPOV. I'm still working on a title for it but here's a sneak peak - leave me a review with your thoughts!

WIP: The Servant (Title may change)

Summary: Upon the King's death, Isabella is forced to marry a Council Advisor's son, James. As a wedding gift from the neighboring realm of Tyr, a bronze haired servant is sent as a wedding gift. You just may be surprised by the twist!

Teaser:

I felt the warm oils on my back first, followed by his strong hands and knowing fingers. My skin hummed where he touched me, an electric shock penetrating my skin, leaving hot gooseflesh where his touch had previously been. Warmth spread through my body, twisting low into my belly, tightening my nipples, and blurring sweetly around the edges of my limbs. The reaction of my body to his touch was unexpected, shocking even.

He chuckled darkly, the sound of it so odd that I stole a glance at his face, it was dark and humorless. Long fingers dug gently into my sides, pulling the muscles and further relaxing them. A low moan escaped my lips and I instantly felt embarrassed by my primal reaction to his touch. Blood rushed to the surface of my skin, heating me further, and pooled in my cheeks, throat, and the swell above my breasts.

The air was thick with silence and the tension between us, neither of us wanting to be the first to speak. "How does your back feel, your highness?" he whispered, his voice was guttural and hoarse.

"Fine. Better. It feels better now, thank you Jasper."

You'll have to be on the lookout to figure this one out! ;-)