She was hurting, in more ways then one. She hated him for doing this to her. She hated herself for letting him do this to her. So what happens when she sees him again? When Laurent confronts Bella in the meadow, she is rescued just in the nick of time by the werewolves. But what if the werewolves were a second too late?
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10. Chapter 8
Rating 5/5 Word Count 1058 Review this Chapter
Ignoring the sobs that broke free of my chest, and the rain that began to pelt against my rock hard skin, I sprinted home, pitching my sliver heels into the forest and staining the hem of my dress with mud. I ran straight past the Cullen mansion, and instead went to our house. I sprinted upstairs and grabbed a couple bags, shoving the contents of my closet into them. I couldn’t do this; I needed to leave, and get as far from here has possible.
It was on this note that I was assaulted with the image of Edward’s face in the window, the rain plastering his hair to his forehead and the moonlight illuminating his white skin. He slid the window open with ease, and climbed in. My heart lurched at this sight of him, but I kept my distance. Instead, I turned my passion into rage, throwing my bag at him with such force that had he not been there to catch it, it might have bust a hole through the opposing wall. “I thought I made my point fairly clear: get away from me, Edward.” And I began to shove more clothes into the bag in his arms.
“Bella, please. Just listen to me. I made a mistake; I’m willing to admit it. But I already lost you once, and I am not going lose you again.” His tone was infused with so much emotion as he uttered that last sentence; I froze in my spot, holding an armload clothes.
No, no, no! Don’t listen to him! He left you, and he deserves what he is getting! My mind argued with me, but my heart was fighting back, begging to run into his arms.
“Don’t do this to me, Edward. You had your chance, but you wasted it; and in the process, you mangled my heart. I loved you, damn it!”
“And I loved you. No—I love you. More then you can comprehend.” And he closed the space between us, roughly pressing his lips to mine.
I couldn’t help myself; I kissed him back.
For forty years I had longed for his touch, craved the feel of his lips against mine and his hands at the small of my back. The minute his lips touched mine I reacted, tangling my fingers in his hair and pressing myself closer to him. Without the boundaries of my humanity, the kiss had much more passion, as neither of us needed to breathe and Edward could no longer crack my skull or unleash his venom into my mouth at any second. But it didn't last long - my head caught up to my body and I broke free from him almost as quickly as I had launched myself into the kiss.
How could you let him do this to you?! Take complete control over you like that! He left you—now the minute he comes back and tries to kiss you, you fall immediately under his spell! Be strong, and show him who’s boss.
I opened my eyes wide with alarm and pushed him off with such force that he crashed into the opposing wall. However, it took me a while to get my lips to work. The first sound out of my mouth was a cross between growl and a groan.
“Ughhh you animal! Get your filthy hands off of me! How dare you try and kiss me like that! You… you…”
I looked up at him and trailed off. He was staring at me with a look of pure shock and sadness. His hands were extended in front of him, as if they weren’t connected to his body. He swallowed.
“I’m… I’m… sorry.”
“You SHOULD be! Edward… how could you do this to me?” I sank back down on the bed, fidgeting with my dress.
“I… I’m so terribly sorry. I… couldn’t control myself.” I looked up at him again, and he was staring at his hands in shock. But then he closed his fists and looked up at me. “But it would be a lie to say that I wish I hadn’t. I don’t regret it.”
And I melted, my tone softening. “Neither do I… That’s the problem.”
He looked at me again, and a look of such extreme hope crossed his face that I couldn’t be mad. And I felt myself falling into him. Not physically, thank God, but I recognized this feeling. The benighted realization came to me, and I could deny it no longer:
I was madly in love with Edward Cullen. Always had been, and probably always will be.
Silence stretched across the next few minutes, neither of us daring to speak. Finally, Edward asked: “How is that a problem?”
His voice was barely audible, just a faint whisper beneath the rain that still pelted against the shingles of the roof and the wind that whistled through the open window. But I heard it as though he was talking over a loudspeaker.
I opened my mouth, and then closed it again. How was that a problem? It was a good question. Was there a problem? Why couldn’t I just let myself go to him, and finally have my happily ever after?
My heart swelled at the prospect, but my conscience answered for me. Pride. This is a battle for pride. If you just let him have you again, you’ve gone through forty years of torture for nothing. Make him wait.
It was selfish, but I knew that it was right. This was a battle for pride.
“I… I need more time.”
His ocher eyes burned with pain as he took in my words, but he nodded. “I’ll go then. But…” He looked down to the half full bag that had been kicked to the side, and then to the other bags and clothes piled in the corner. I understood.
No matter what happened, I realized sometime later, I was like a moon to him. I could put as much distance between us as possible, or avoid him as much as I like, but sooner or later, I always ended back in my orbit, trapped by the gravitational pull I felt toward him.
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