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I'm nothing but a monster burning in a hell that only exists in my head. There's no hope left until one harmless glance chances logic and binds two eternal enemies together in a twist of fate. Can the escape from this hell be found in an infuriating dimpled grin? Or is this another dark, dirty trick of my own mind? A forbidden passion, heat, and intense anger—this is no fairytale.

[Disclaimer: Monster is an originally plotted fic. The ideas within this fic are not to be copied in any way, shape, or form—I have not given my consent to any manner of copying. All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the intellectual property of their respective owners. All canon concepts and characters are the property of the Twilight Saga's author, Stephenie Meyer. No copyright infringement is intended. Similarities are for the sole use of fan fiction, and no profit has been or will be benefited from the posting of this fic.] Emerging Swan Award 2012, nominated into Fandom Choice Awards.

29. Electric Encounters

Rating 0/5   Word Count 1745   Review this Chapter

"I am done with my graceless heart
So tonight I'm gonna cut it out and then restart
Cause I like to keep my issues strong
It's always darkest before the dawn." - Florence and The Machine.

Chapter Twenty Nine

Electric Encounters

The room grows so silent I swear I can hear the breeze swish through the air and brush across my skin. I stand for a moment, feeling the wolfish expression on my face slowly falter before falling completely. I blink for a moment, hearing the heavy thump, thump, thump of my heart echo through the room.

I can feel his gaze on me. The tingle of electricity creeping down my spine alerts me of it right away. I flatten my ears and allow my gaze to flicker around the spotless house before I charge right through the door, shooting into the forest.

My form shifts under the cover of the trees, the shadows cooling down my overheated body. I suck in a deep, chilling breath of air, and then puff it out. My hands slide through my hair, clenching as they pull against the roots. I need another breath.

"What the hell is going on, Uley?"

I whisper the words with a flaring fever, allowing a low growl to slip through my teeth. My temper rises, burning hot once more. My mind spins out of control, creating a humming buzz in my ears. Another breath exhales.




The commands are bold in my mind, highlighted with a practiced calm that is hidden deep inside me. I inhale slowly, tasting the flavors of the forest in my nostrils as I lean over and slide my tattered clothes over my body. My eyes shut for a moment as I think, fighting back the tireless pounding in my skull.

My movements are quick yet swift. I release one final breath before I force my gaze back onto the large, fancy house. Who would ever think that a damn leech family has riches?

Stop that.

I shake my head once, clearing the thoughts. My pace is swift and unhurried as I hop up the stairs, clearing the porch in a single stride. My gaze drops to the glass doorknob. I pause, my muscles tensing and relaxing a thousand times a minute. I stare, my gaze completely locked on the knob as I gather myself, slowly pulling myself back together again.

The door swings open before I can even reach for it. The Cullen flashes a smile, dimples at the edges. He pulls the door to his broad chest before stepping back and gesturing inside.

"Do come in," he insists in a deep tone that's softened with humor.

Something about his expression pulls me in. I can't resist. I find myself walking right into the house as if it is completely normal for the wolf to enter a leech den, much less be invited in.

The Cullen hums to himself as he darts over to the couch before slowly taking a seat on it. I pause mid-step, watching as he leans back. One arm is slung over the back of the couch, his muscles flexing with the movement. I have to force my eyes back onto his face.

"Hmm." He strokes his chin with his fingers, studying me again. His expression is more serious now, but I can see straight through it, finding the teasing underneath. The Cullen's lips twitch into a smirk. "You sure are different from everyone else who comes here."

I find myself nodding as I lean my weight back into a comfortable stance. I still don't lose my defense; my senses remain on high alert. "I would think so."

He lets out a breath as he slides his other arm around the couch, adjusting his body. "I mean, most of our guests come fully clothed. But this is a change that I don't mind at all." The Cullen's eyes flicker to my torn strips of clothing, and he coughs to hide a laugh, but ends up chuckling despite himself.

I don't move. The sound of his laughter is enchanting, freezing me in place. I study the movements of his face and he grins again. He turns his head back over to me, his eyes meeting my own.

My gaze is glued on his, unable to move. I find myself searching through the darkened golden hue of his eyes, searching for that cold, empty pit that I see in every other leech. But instead, I am hit with a light—a spark of light, shining deep in a pool of humor. It is almost as if I can see straight through his eyes and into his mind. It is a mind so clear and open; the kind of mind I will never have.

I don't realize that I am staring until the movement of his lips curling back wakes me back up. The Cu—Emmett is grinning at me, one of his eyebrows raised questionably. There is a small shiver of heat inside me at his expression. I inhale sharply and straighten my posture, sliding a hand through my hair. My scattered thoughts scramble to catch up.

"I have a staring problem," I murmur smoothly.

Emmett laughs. "I've noticed." He rubs the back of his neck and is on his feet in a moment, turning to offer a hand to me. "You look like you could use a tussle. Ya know, just to lighten up a little bit."

I can see that he is joking as he stretches out his hand. I find myself ducking while rising to my feet on my own. I lean forward, refocusing as I shift into a fighter, only keeping in mind the location of his hand as it falls back into place. I don't know why I do it, but there's just something about him that draws me in.

"The feeling's mutual."

He chuckles, shaking his head as he crouches too, his hands out in front of him. "Just don't try to tear my head off this time. I kinda need it."

And so it begins.

By size, other than my height, I don't appear to be much of a challenge. The flexing of the bulging muscles of his biceps and the confidence in his smirk is all a show—he is trying to intimidate me. Internally, I am laughing. No challenge? Right. He is underestimating me; I can see it in the form of his smile.

Underestimation is almost always the fatal mistake of my prey.

When he lunges, a streak of white, I am ready. I duck down, feeling the wind of his speed brush across my neck. Somehow, I feel the need for defense—I can't picture laying a hand on him just yet. His rocky, cold, smooth skin clashes with my own. The Cullen is favoring his strength over strategy; he is handing me an advantage.

My movements are swift and sudden. His arms snaps out to the side, a frustrated rumble growing in his throat. Two muscled arms swing forward as if expecting to catch me, but they meet empty air. I pivot my foot back and strike his side, the blow forceful but light. The Cullen gives an angry but surprised grunt as he crashes into the crouch. I straighten my posture and smirk at him, allowing my amusement to shine.

The Cullen shakes his head in disbelief, jumping to his feet, his nostrils flaring as his narrowed eyes study me. "Again!" he demands a moment later, the clarity of his voice booming through the room.

"I don't fight like a girl." I lean forward, still wearing a smirk as I raise my hands and shift my body from side to side tauntingly. His eyes trace my movements, evaluating.

In a heartbeat, the Cullen lashes out again. I stare at his body in motion, momentarily frozen as I lose the desire to fight back. His hand catches my throat and causes a prickling sensation, ice against fire. The heat of my body starts to climb, giving off the alarm that the wolf inside me is stirring. I instantly tense. My dark blue gaze reflects in the icy pools of the Cullen's.

A few tense minutes tick by and he still doesn't move. I clear my throat, feeling my heart pulse against my ribs. "What are you doing?"

I am answered with more mysterious silence. His golden gaze is highlighted with curiosity; his eyebrows crinkle as if he is focusing on answering a question he can't quite figure out. The hand on my throat loosens. Satin smooth fingers tenderly brush along the line of my collar and shoulders, the coolness of them relaxing my body, shutting me down.

For a moment.

I blaze, an open fire, ready to melt. The Cullen—Emmett—only stares at me. The intensity of his stare pins me, locking every muscle in place. I find myself staring back at him, burning and blazing and . . . awed?

If I was not so caught up in the moment, I would've pick up on the frantic screech of shoes on wood. But my mind never processes the sound until it is too close. Too late.

Emmett raises his head as I do. We are no longer alone.

The vampire explodes into the room at a speed comparable to a flash of lightning. By the time I refocus, a different bloodsucker is hovering over me, his hand constricting my throat. His honey colored hair waves shortly around his head, his eyes pure black and narrowed into suspicious slits. The crook of his arrogant smile instantly suggests bad intentions.

"A wolf over the line." The vampire chuckles as if the situation is humorous. "What a pleasure it will be to take this one out. It's been a while. May I do the honors, Em?"

My nostrils flare. I can almost feel the widening of my eyes as my pupils dilate. Emmett blurs into the background, his hand waving toward me as he tries to explain. The black pits of his hungry eyes show no concern for what Emmett has to say. He is a predator, and not even the warning words of his brother will stop him.

Seconds later, two other white blurs flit into the house, darting around the three of us. I hear a shout as they circle me, shooting an endless stream of demanding questions at Emmett. I stand, tensed and boiling, the wolf rising inside me.

This is going to get ugly.