Eclipse (18 page)

He blinked rapidly, his fierce expression melting in surprise. "Why? We still have a few years. Can't we be friends until we're out of time?"

"Years? No, Jake, not years." I shook my head, and laughed once without humor. "
Weeks
is more accurate."

I was not expecting his reaction.

He was suddenly on his feet, and there was a loud
pop
as the soda can exploded in his hand. Soda flew everywhere, soaking me, like it was spraying from a hose.

"Jake!" I started to complain, but I fell silent when I realized that his whole body was quivering with anger. He glared at me wildly, a growling sound building in his chest. I froze in place, too shocked to remember how to move.

The shaking rolled through him, getting faster, until it looked like he was vibrating. His shape blurred. . . .

And then Jacob gritted his teeth together, and the growling stopped. He squeezed his eyes tight in concentration; the quivering slowed until only his hands were shaking.

"Weeks," Jacob said in a flat monotone.

I couldn't respond; I was still frozen.

He opened his eyes. They were beyond fury now.

"He's going to change you into a filthy bloodsucker in just a few
weeks
!" Jacob hissed through his teeth.

Too stunned to take offense at his words, I just nodded mutely.

His face turned green under the russet skin.

"Of course, Jake," I whispered after a long minute of silence. "He's
seventeen,
Jacob. And I get closer to nineteen every day. Besides, what's the point in waiting? He's all I want. What else can I do?"

I'd meant that as a rhetorical question.

His words cracked like snaps of a whip. "Anything. Anything else. You'd be better off dead. I'd rather you were."

I recoiled like he'd slapped me. It hurt worse than if he had.

And then, as the pain shot through me, my own temper burst into flame.

"Maybe you'll get lucky," I said bleakly, lurching to my feet. "Maybe I'll get hit by a truck on my way back."

I grabbed my motorcycle and pushed it out into the rain. He didn't move as I passed him. As soon as I was on the small, muddy path, I climbed on and kicked the bike to life. The rear tire spit a fountain of mud toward the garage, and I hoped that it hit him.

I got absolutely soaked as I sped across the slick highway toward the Cullens' house. The wind felt like it was freezing the rain against my skin, and my teeth were chattering before I was halfway there.

Motorcycles were too impractical for Washington. I would sell the stupid thing first chance I got.

I walked the bike into the Cullens' cavernous garage and was unsurprised to find Alice waiting for me, perched lightly on the hood of her Porsche. Alice stroked the glossy yellow paint.

"I haven't even had a chance to drive it." She sighed.

"Sorry," I spit through my rattling teeth.

"You look like you could use a hot shower," she said, offhand, as she sprang lightly to her feet.

"Yep."

She pursed her lips, taking in my expression carefully. "Do you want to talk about it?"

"Nope."

She nodded in assent, but her eyes were raging with curiosity.

"Do you want to go to Olympia tonight?"

"Not really. Can't I go home?"

She grimaced.

"Never mind, Alice," I said. "I'll stay if it makes things easier for you."

"Thanks," she sighed in relief.

I went to bed early that night, curling up on his sofa again.

It was still dark when I woke. I was groggy, but I knew it wasn't near morning yet. My eyes closed, and I stretched, rolling over. It took me a second before I realized that the movement should have dumped me onto the floor. And that I was much too comfortable. I rolled back over, trying to see. It was darker than last night - the clouds were too thick for the moon to shine through.

"Sorry," he murmured so softly that his voice was part of the darkness. "I didn't mean to wake you."

I tensed, waiting for the fury - both his and mine - but it was only quiet and calm in the darkness of his room. I could almost taste the sweetness of reunion in the air, a separate fragrance from the perfume of his breath; the emptiness when we were apart left its own bitter aftertaste, something I didn't consciously notice until it was removed. There was no friction in the space between us. The stillness was peaceful - not like the calm before the tempest, but like a clear night untouched by even the dream of a storm. And I didn't care that I was supposed to be angry with him. I didn't care that I was supposed to be angry with everyone. I reached out for him, found his hands in the darkness, and pulled myself closer to him. His arms encircled me, cradling me to his chest. My lips searched, hunting along his throat, to his chin, till I finally found his lips.

Edward kissed me softly for a moment, and then he chuckled.

"I was all braced for the wrath that was going to put grizzlies to shame, and this is what I get? I should infuriate you more often."

"Give me a minute to work up to it," I teased, kissing him again.

"I'll wait as long as you want," he whispered against my lips. His fingers knotted in my hair. My breath was becoming uneven. "Maybe in the morning."

"Whatever you prefer."

"Welcome home," I said while his cold lips pressed under my jaw. "I'm glad you came back."

"That's a very good thing."

"Mmm," I agreed, tightening my arms around his neck.

His hand curved around my elbow, moving slowly down my arm, across my ribs and over my waist, tracing along my hip and down my leg, around my knee. He paused there, his hand curling around my calf. He pulled my leg up suddenly, hitching it around his hip. I stopped breathing. This wasn't the kind of thing he usually allowed. Despite his cold hands, I felt suddenly warm. His lips moved in the hollow at the base of my throat.

"Not to bring on the ire prematurely," he whispered, "but do you mind telling me what it is about this bed that you object to?"

Before I could answer, before I could even concentrate enough to make sense of his words, he rolled to the side, pulling me on top of him. He held my face in his hands, angling it up so that his mouth could reach my throat. My breathing was too loud - it was almost embarrassing, but I couldn't care quite enough to be ashamed.

"The bed?" he asked again. "
I
think it's nice."

"It's unnecessary," I managed to gasp.

He pulled my face back to his, and my lips shaped themselves around his. Slowly this time, he rolled till he hovered over me. He held himself carefully so that I felt none of his weight, but I could feel the cool marble of his body press against mine. My heart was hammering so loudly that it was hard to hear his quiet laughter.

"That's debatable," he disagreed. "This would be difficult on a couch." Cold as ice, his tongue lightly traced the shape of my lips.

My head was spinning - the air was coming too fast and shallow.

"Did you change your mind?" I asked breathlessly. Maybe he'd rethought all his careful rules. Maybe there was more significance to this bed than I'd originally guessed. My heart pounded almost painfully as I waited for his answer.

Edward sighed, rolling back so that we were on our sides again.

"Don't be ridiculous, Bella," he said, disapproval strong in his voice - clearly, he understood what I meant. "I was just trying to illustrate the benefits of the bed you don't seem to like. Don't get carried away."

"Too late," I muttered. "And I like the bed," I added.

"Good." I could hear the smile in his voice as he kissed my forehead. "I do, too."

"But I still think it's unnecessary," I continued. "If we're not going to get carried away, what's the point?"

He sighed again. "For the hundredth time, Bella - it's too dangerous."

"I like danger," I insisted.

"I know." There was a sour edge to his voice, and I realized that he would have seen the motorcycle in the garage.

"I'll tell you what's dangerous," I said quickly, before he could move to a new topic of discussion. "I'm going to spontaneously combust one of these days - and you'll have no one but yourself to blame."

He started to push me away.

"What are you doing?" I objected, clinging to him.

"Protecting you from combustion. If this too much for you. . . ."

"I can handle it," I insisted.

He let me worm myself back into the circle of his arms.

"I'm sorry I gave you the wrong impression," he said. "I didn't mean to make you unhappy. That wasn't nice."

"Actually, it was very, very nice."

He took a deep breath. "Aren't you tired? I should let you sleep."

"No, I'm not. I don't mind if you want to give me the wrong impression again."

"That's probably a bad idea. You're not the only one who gets carried away."

"Yes, I am," I grumbled.

He chuckled. "You have no idea, Bella. It doesn't help that you are so eager to undermine my self-control, either."

"I'm not going to apologize for that."

"Can
I
apologize?"

"For what?"

"You were angry with me, remember?"

"Oh, that."

"I'm sorry. I was wrong. It's much easier to have the proper perspective when I have you safely
here
." His arms tightened around me. "I go a little berserk when I try to leave you. I don't think I'll go so far again. It's not worth it."

I smiled. "Didn't you find any mountain lions?"

"Yes, I did, actually. Still not worth the anxiety. I'm sorry I had Alice hold you hostage, though. That was a bad idea."

"Yes," I agreed.

"I won't do it again."

"Okay," I said easily. He was already forgiven. "But slumber parties do have their advantages. . . ." I curled myself closer to him, pressing my lips into the indentation over his collarbone. "
You
can hold me hostage any time you want."

"Mmm," he sighed. "I may take you up on that."

"So is it my turn now?"

"Your turn?" his voice was confused.

"To apologize."

"What do you have to apologize for?"

"Aren't you mad at me?" I asked blankly.

"No."

It sounded like he really meant it.

I felt my eyebrows pull together. "Didn't you see Alice when you got home?"

"Yes - why?"

"Are you going to take her Porsche back?"

"Of course not. It was a gift."

I wished I could see his expression. His voice sounded as if I'd insulted him.

"Don't you want to know what I did?" I asked, starting to be puzzled by his apparent lack of concern.

I felt him shrug. "I'm always interested in everything you do - but you don't have to tell me unless you want to."

"But I went to La Push."

"I know."

"And I ditched school."

"So did I."

I stared toward the sound of his voice, tracing his features with my fingers, trying to understand his mood. "Where did all this tolerance come from?" I demanded. He sighed.

"I decided that you were right. My problem before was more about my . . . prejudice against werewolves than anything else. I'm going to try to be more reasonable and trust your judgment. If you say it's safe, then I'll believe you."

"Wow."

"And . . . most importantly . . . I'm not willing to let this drive a wedge between us." I rested my head against his chest and closed my eyes, totally content.

"So," he murmured in a casual tone. "Did you make plans to go back to La Push again soon?" I didn't answer. His question brought back the memory of Jacob's words, and my throat was suddenly tight.

He misread my silence and the tension in my body.

"Just so that I can make my own plans," he explained quickly. "I don't want you to feel like you have to hurry back because I'm sitting around waiting for you."

"No," I said in a voice that sounded strange to me. "I don't have plans go back."

"Oh. You don't have to do that for me."

"I don't think I'm welcome anymore," I whispered.

"Did you run over someone's cat?" he asked lightly. I knew he didn't want to force the story out of me, but I could hear the curiosity burning behind his words.

"No." I took a deep breath, and then mumbled quickly through the explanation. "I thought Jacob would have realized . . . I didn't think it would surprise him." Edward waited while I hesitated.

"He wasn't expecting . . . that it was so soon."

"Ah," Edward said quietly.

"He said he'd rather see me dead." My voice broke on the last word. Edward was too still for a moment, controlling whatever reaction he didn't want me to see. Then he crushed me gently to his chest. "I'm so sorry."

"I thought you'd be glad," I whispered.

"Glad over something that's hurt you?" he murmured into my hair. "I don't think so, Bella." I sighed and relaxed, fitting myself to the stone shape of him. But he was motionless again, tense.

"What's wrong?" I asked.

"It's nothing."

"You can tell me."

He paused for a minute. "It might make you angry."

"I still want to know."

He sighed. "I could quite literally kill him for saying that to you. I
want
to." I laughed halfheartedly. "I guess it's a good thing you've got so much self-control."

"I could slip." His tone was thoughtful.

"If you're going to have a lapse in control, I can think of a better place for it." I reached for his face, trying to pull myself up to kiss him. His arms held me tighter, restraining. He sighed. "Must I always be the responsible one?"

I grinned in the darkness. "No. Let me be in charge of responsibility for a few minutes . . . or hours."

"Goodnight, Bella."

"Wait - there was something else I wanted to ask you about."

"What's that?"

"I was talking to Rosalie last night. . . ."

His body tensed again. "Yes. She was thinking about that when I got in. She gave you quite a lot to consider, didn't she?"

His voice was anxious, and I realized that he thought I wanted to talk about the reasons Rosalie'd given me for staying human. But I was interested in something much more pressing.

"She told me a little bit . . . about the time your family lived in Denali." There was a short pause; this beginning took him by surprise. "Yes?"

"She mentioned something about a bunch of female vampires . . . and you." He didn't answer, though I waited for a long moment.

"Don't worry," I said, after the silence had grown uncomfortable. "She told me you didn't . . . show any preference. But I was just wondering, you know, if any of
them
had. Shown a preference for you, I mean."

Again he said nothing.

"Which one?" I asked, trying to keep my voice casual, and not quite managing. "Or was there more than one?"

No answer. I wished I could see his face, so I could try to guess what this silence meant.

"Alice will tell me," I said. "I'll go ask her right now." His arms tightened; I was unable to squirm even an inch away.

"It's late," he said. His voice had a little edge to it that was something new. Sort of nervous, maybe a little embarrassed. "Besides, I think Alice stepped out. . . ."

"It's bad," I guessed. "It's really bad, isn't it?" I started to panic, my heart accelerating as I imagined the gorgeous immortal rival I'd never realized I had.

"Calm down, Bella," he said, kissing the tip of my nose. "You're being absurd."

"Am I? Then why won't you tell me?"

"Because there's nothing to tell. You're blowing this wildly out of proportion."

"Which one?" I insisted.

He sighed. "Tanya expressed a little interest. I let her know, in a very courteous, gentlemanly fashion, that I did not return that interest. End of story."

I kept my voice as even as possible. "Tell me something - what does Tanya look like?"

"Just like the rest of us - white skin, gold eyes," he answered too quickly.

"And, of course, extraordinarily beautiful."

I felt him shrug.

"I suppose, to human eyes," he said, indifferent. "You know what, though?"

"What?" My voice was petulant.

He put his lips right to my ear; his cold breath tickled. "I prefer brunettes."

"She's a blonde. That figures."

"Strawberry blonde - not at all my type."

I thought about that for a while, trying to concentrate as his lips moved slowly along my cheek, down my throat, and back up again. He made the circuit three times before I spoke.

"I
guess
that's okay, then," I decided.

"Hmm," he whispered against my skin. "You're quite adorable when you're jealous. It's surprisingly enjoyable."

I scowled into the darkness.

"It's late," he said again, murmuring, almost crooning now, his voice smoother than silk.

"Sleep, my Bella. Dream happy dreams. You are the only one who has ever touched my heart. It will always be yours. Sleep, my only love."

He started to hum my lullaby, and I knew it was only a matter of time till I succumbed, so I closed my eyes and snuggled closer into his chest.

9. TARGET

ALICE DROPPED ME OFF IN THE MORNING, IN KEEPINGwith the slumber party charade. It wouldn't be long until Edward showed up, officially returning from his "hiking" trip. All of the pretenses were starting to wear on me. I wouldn't miss this part of being human.

Charlie peeked through the front window when he heard me slam the car door. He waved to Alice, and then went to get the door for me.

"Did you have fun?" Charlie asked.

"Sure, it was great. Very . . . girlie."

I carried my stuff in, dumped it all at the foot of the stairs, and wandered into the kitchen to look for a snack.

"You've got a message," Charlie called after me.

On the kitchen counter, the phone message pad was propped up conspicuously against a saucepan.

Jacob called,
Charlie had written.

He said he didn't mean it, and that he's sorry. He wants you to call him. Be nice and give him a break. He sounded upset.

I grimaced. Charlie didn't usually editorialize on my messages.

Jacob could just go ahead and be upset. I didn't want to talk to him. Last I'd heard, they weren't big on allowing phone calls from the other side. If Jacob preferred me dead, then maybe he should get used to the silence.

My appetite evaporated. I turned an about face and went to put my things away.

"Aren't you going to call Jacob?" Charlie asked. He was leaning around the living room wall, watching me pick up.

"No."

I started up the stairs.

"That's not very attractive behavior, Bella," he said. "Forgiveness is divine."

"Mind your own business," I muttered under my breath, much too low for him to hear. I knew the laundry was building up, so after I put my toothpaste away and threw my dirty clothes in the hamper, I went to strip Charlie's bed. I left his sheets in a pile at the top of the stairs and went to get mine.

I paused beside the bed, cocking my head to the side.

Where was my pillow? I turned in a circle, scanning the room. No pillow. I noticed that my room looked oddly tidy. Hadn't my gray sweatshirt been draped over the low bedpost on the footboard? And I would swear there had been a pair of dirty socks behind the rocking chair, along with the red blouse I'd tried on two mornings ago, but decided was too dressy for school, hanging over the arm. . . . I spun around again. My hamper wasn't empty, but it wasn't overflowing, the way I thought it had been.

Was Charlie doing laundry? That was out of character.

"Dad, did you start the wash?" I shouted out my door.

"Um, no," he shouted back, sounding guilty. "Did you want me to?"

"No, I got it. Were you looking for something in my room?"

"No. Why?"

"I can't find . . . a shirt. . . ."

"I haven't been in there."

And then I remembered that Alice had been here to get my pajamas. I hadn't noticed that she'd borrowed my pillow, too - probably since I'd avoided the bed. It looked like she had cleaned while she was passing through. I blushed for my slovenly ways.

But that red shirt really wasn't dirty, so I went to save it from the hamper. I expected to find it near the top, but it wasn't there. I dug through the whole pile and still couldn't find it. I knew I was probably getting paranoid, but it seemed like something else was missing, or maybe more than one something. I didn't even have half a load here. I ripped my sheets off and headed for the laundry closet, grabbing Charlie's on the way. The washing machine was empty. I checked the dryer, too, half-expecting to find a washed load waiting for me, courtesy of Alice. Nothing. I frowned, mystified.

"Did you find what you were looking for?" Charlie yelled.

"Not yet."

I went back upstairs to search under my bed. Nothing but dust bunnies. I started to dig through my dresser. Maybe I'd put the red shirt away and forgotten.

I gave up when the doorbell rang. That would be Edward.

"Door," Charlie informed me from the couch as I skipped past him.

"Don't strain yourself, Dad."

I pulled the door open with a big smile on my face.

Edward's golden eyes were wide, his nostrils flared, his lips pulled back over his teeth.

"Edward?" My voice was sharp with shock as I read his expression. "What -?" He put his finger to my lips. "Give me two seconds," he whispered. "Don't move." I stood frozen on the doorstep and he . . . disappeared. He moved so quickly that Charlie wouldn't even have seen him pass.

Before I could compose myself enough to count to two, he was back. He put his arm around my waist and pulled me swiftly toward the kitchen. His eyes darted around the room, and he held me against his body as if he were shielding me from something. I threw a glance toward Charlie on the couch, but he was studiously ignoring us.

"Someone's been here," he murmured in my ear after he pulled me to the back of the kitchen. His voice was strained; it was difficult to hear him over the thumping of the washing machine.

"I swear that no werewolves -" I started to say.

"Not one of them," he interrupted me quickly, shaking his head. "One of us." His tone made it clear that he didn't mean a member of his family.

I felt the blood empty from my face.

"Victoria?" I choked.

"It's not a scent I recognize."

"One of the Volturi," I guessed.