Edward in the sunlight was shocking. I couldn't get used to it, thoughI'd been staring at him all afternoon. His skin, white despite the faintflush from yesterday's hunting trip, literally sparkled, like thousandsof tiny diamonds were embedded in the surface. He lay perfectly still inthe grass, his shirt open over his sculpted, incandescent chest, hisscintillating arms bare. His glistening, pale lavender lids were shut,though of course he didn't sleep. A perfect statue, carved in someunknown stone, smooth like marble, glittering like crystal.

　　Now and then, his lips would move, so fast it looked like they weretrembling. But, when I asked, he told me he was singing to himself; itwas too low for me to hear.

　　I enjoyed the sun, too, though the air wasn't quite dry enough for mytaste. I would have liked to lie back, as he did, and let the sun warm myface. But I stayed curled up, my chin resting on my knees, unwilling totake my eyes off him. The wind was gentle; it tangled my hair and ruffledthe grass that swayed around his motionless form.

　　The meadow, so spectacular to me at first, paled next to his magnificence.

　　Hesitantly, always afraid, even now, that he would disappear like amirage, too beautiful to be real… hesitantly, I reached out one fingerand stroked the back of his shimmering hand, where it lay within myreach. I marveled again at the perfect texture, satin smooth, cool asstone. When I looked up again, his eyes were open, watching me.

　　Butterscotch today, lighter, warmer after hunting. His quick smile turnedup the corners of his flawless lips.

　　"I don't scare you?" he asked playfully, but I could hear the realcuriosity in his soft voice.

　　"No more than usual."He smiled wider; his teeth flashed in the sun.

　　I inched closer, stretched out my whole hand now to trace the contours ofhis forearm with my fingertips. I saw that my fingers trembled, and knewit wouldn't escape his notice.

　　"Do you mind?" I asked, for he had closed his eyes again.

　　"No," he said without opening his eyes. "You can't imagine how thatfeels." He sighed.

　　I lightly trailed my hand over the perfect muscles of his arm, followedthe faint pattern of bluish veins inside the crease at his elbow. With myother hand, I reached to turn his hand over. Realizing what I wished, heflipped his palm up in one of those blindingly fast, disconcertingmovements of his. It startled me; my fingers froze on his arm for a briefsecond.

　　"Sorry," he murmured. I looked up in time to see his golden eyes closeagain. "It's too easy to be myself with you."I lifted his hand, turning it this way and that as I watched the sunglitter on his palm. I held it closer to my face, trying to see thehidden facets in his skin.

　　"Tell me what you're thinking," he whispered. I looked to see his eyeswatching me, suddenly intent. "It's still so strange for me, not knowing.""You know, the rest of us feel that way all the time.""It's a hard life." Did I imagine the hint of regret in his tone? "Butyou didn't tell me.""I was wishing I could know what you were thinking…" I hesitated.

　　"And?""I was wishing that I could believe that you were real. And I was wishingthat I wasn't afraid.""I don't want you to be afraid." His voice was just a soft murmur. Iheard what he couldn't truthfully say, that I didn't need to be afraid,that there was nothing to fear.

　　"Well, that's not exactly the fear I meant, though that's certainlysomething to think about."So quickly that I missed his movement, he was half sitting, propped up onhis right arm, his left palm still in my hands. His angel's face was onlya few inches from mine. I might have — should have — flinched away fromhis unexpected closeness, but I was unable to move. His golden eyesmesmerized me.

　　"What are you afraid of, then?" he whispered intently.

　　But I couldn't answer. As I had just that once before, I smelled his coolbreath in my face. Sweet, delicious, the scent made my mouth water. Itwas unlike anything else. Instinctively, unthinkingly, I leaned closer,inhaling.

　　And he was gone, his hand ripped from mine. In the time it took my eyesto focus, he was twenty feet away, standing at the edge of the smallmeadow, in the deep shade of a huge fir tree. He stared at me, his eyesdark in the shadows, his expression unreadable.

　　I could feel the hurt and shock on my face. My empty hands stung.

　　"I'm… sorry… Edward," I whispered. I knew he could hear.

　　"Give me a moment," he called, just loud enough for my less sensitiveears. I sat very still.

　　After ten incredibly long seconds, he walked back, slowly for him. Hestopped, still several feet away, and sank gracefully to the ground,crossing his legs. His eyes never left mine. He took two deep breaths,and then smiled in apology.

　　"I am so very sorry." He hesitated. "Would you understand what I meant ifI said I was only human?"I nodded once, not quite able to smile at his joke. Adrenaline pulsedthrough my veins as the realization of danger slowly sank in. He couldsmell that from where he sat. His smile turned mocking.

　　"I'm the world's best predator, aren't I? Everything about me invites youin — my voice, my face, even my smell. As if I need any of that!"Unexpectedly, he was on his feet, bounding away, instantly out of sight,only to appear beneath the same tree as before, having circled the meadowin half a second.

　　"As if you could outrun me," he laughed bitterly.

　　He reached up with one hand and, with a deafening crack, effortlesslyripped a two-foot-thick branch from the trunk of the spruce. He balancedit in that hand for a moment, and then threw it with blinding speed,shattering it against another huge tree, which shook and trembled at theblow.

　　And he was in front of me again, standing two feet away, still as a stone.

　　"As if you could fight me off," he said gently.

　　I sat without moving, more frightened of him than I had ever been. I'dnever seen him so completely freed of that carefully cultivated facade.

　　He'd never been less human… or more beautiful. Face ashen, eyes wide, Isat like a bird locked in the eyes of a snake.

　　His lovely eyes seem to glow with rash excitement. Then, as the secondspassed, they dimmed. His expression slowly folded into a mask of ancientsadness.

　　"Don't be afraid," he murmured, his velvet voice unintentionallyseductive. "I promise…" He hesitated. "I swear not to hurt you." Heseemed more concerned with convincing himself than me.

　　"Don't be afraid," he whispered again as he stepped closer, withexaggerated slowness. He sat sinuously, with deliberately unhurriedmovements, till our faces were on the same level, just a foot apart.

　　"Please forgive me," he said formally. "I can control myself. You caughtme off guard. But I'm on my best behavior now."He waited, but I still couldn't speak.

　　"I'm not thirsty today, honestly." He winked.

　　At that I had to laugh, though the sound was shaky and breathless.

　　"Are you all right?" he asked tenderly, reaching out slowly, carefully,to place his marble hand back in mine.

　　I looked at his smooth, cold hand, and then at his eyes. They were soft,repentant. I looked back at his hand, and then deliberately returned totracing the lines in his hand with my fingertip. I looked up and smiledtimidly.

　　His answering smile was dazzling.

　　"So where were we, before I behaved so rudely?" he asked in the gentlecadences of an earlier century.

　　"I honestly can't remember."He smiled, but his face was ashamed. "I think we were talking about whyyou were afraid, besides the obvious reason.""Oh, right.""Well?"I looked down at his hand and doodled aimlessly across his smooth,iridescent palm. The seconds ticked by.

　　"How easily frustrated I am," he sighed. I looked into his eyes, abruptlygrasping that this was every bit as new to him as it was to me. As manyyears of unfathomable experience as he had, this was hard for him, too. Itook courage from that thought.

　　"I was afraid… because, for, well, obvious reasons, I can't stay withyou. And I'm afraid that I'd like to stay with you, much more than Ishould." I looked down at his hands as I spoke. It was difficult for meto say this aloud.

　　"Yes," he agreed slowly. "That is something to be afraid of, indeed.

　　Wanting to be with me. That's really not in your best interest."I frowned.

　　"I should have left long ago," he sighed. "I should leave now. But Idon't know if I can.""I don't want you to leave," I mumbled pathetically, staring down again.

　　"Which is exactly why I should. But don't worry. I'm essentially aselfish creature. I crave your company too much to do what I should.""I'm glad.""Don't be!" He withdrew his hand, more gently this time; his voice washarsher than usual. Harsh for him, still more beautiful than any humanvoice. It was hard to keep up — his sudden mood changes left me always astep behind, dazed.

　　"It's not only your company I crave! Never forget that. Never forget I ammore dangerous to you than I am to anyone else." He stopped, and I lookedto see him gazing unseeingly into the forest.

　　I thought for a moment.

　　"I don't think I understand exactly what you mean — by that last partanyway," I said.

　　He looked back at me and smiled, his mood shifting yet again.

　　"How do I explain?" he mused. "And without frightening you again… hmmmm."Without seeming to think about it, he placed his hand back in mine; Iheld it tightly in both of mine. He looked at our hands.

　　"That's amazingly pleasant, the warmth." He sighed.

　　A moment passed as he assembled his thoughts.

　　"You know how everyone enjoys different flavors?" he began. "Some peoplelove chocolate ice cream, others prefer strawberry?"I nodded.

　　"Sorry about the food analogy — I couldn't think of another way toexplain."I smiled. He smiled ruefully back.

　　"You see, every person smells different, has a different essence. If youlocked an alcoholic in a room full of stale beer, he'd gladly drink it.

　　But he could resist, if he wished to, if he were a recovering alcoholic.

　　Now let's say you placed in that room a glass of hundred-year-old brandy,the rarest, finest cognac — and filled the room with its warm aroma — howdo you think he would fare then?"We sat silently, looking into each other's eyes — trying to read eachother's thoughts.

　　He broke the silence first.

　　"Maybe that's not the right comparison. Maybe it would be too easy toturn down the brandy. Perhaps I should have made our alcoholic a heroinaddict instead.""So what you're saying is, I'm your brand of heroin?" I teased, trying tolighten the mood.

　　He smiled swiftly, seeming to appreciate my effort. "Yes, you are exactlymy brand of heroin.""Does that happen often?" I asked.

　　He looked across the treetops, thinking through his response.

　　"I spoke to my brothers about it." He still stared into the distance. "ToJasper, every one of you is much the same. He's the most recent to joinour family. It's a struggle for him to abstain at all. He hasn't had timeto grow sensitive to the differences in smell, in flavor." He glancedswiftly at me, his expression apologetic.

　　"Sorry," he said.

　　"I don't mind. Please don't worry about offending me, or frightening me,or whichever. That's the way you think. I can understand, or I can try toat least. Just explain however you can."He took a deep breath and gazed at the sky again.

　　"So Jasper wasn't sure if he'd ever come across someone who was as" — hehesitated, looking for the right word — "appealing as you are to me.

　　Which makes me think not. Emmett has been on the wagon longer, so tospeak, and he understood what I meant. He says twice, for him, oncestronger than the other.""And for you?""Never."The word hung there for a moment in the warm breeze.

　　"What did Emmett do?" I asked to break the silence.

　　It was the wrong question to ask. His face grew dark, his hand clenchedinto a fist inside mine. He looked away. I waited, but he wasn't going toanswer.

　　"I guess I know," I finally said.

　　He lifted his eyes; his expression was wistful, pleading.

　　"Even the strongest of us fall off the wagon, don't we?""What are you asking? My permission?" My voice was sharper than I'dintended. I tried to make my tone kinder — I could guess what his honestymust cost him. "I mean, is there no hope, then?" How calmly I coulddiscuss my own death!

　　"No, no!" He was instantly contrite. "Of course there's hope! I mean, ofcourse I won't…" He left the sentence hanging. His eyes burned into mine.

　　"It's different for us. Emmett… these were strangers he happened across.

　　It was a long time ago, and he wasn't as… practiced, as careful, as he isnow."He fell silent and watched me intently as I thought it through.

　　"So if we'd met… oh, in a dark alley or something…" I trailed off.

　　"It took everything I had not to jump up in the middle of that class fullof children and —" He stopped abruptly, looking away. "When you walkedpast me, I could have ruined everything Carlisle has built for us, rightthen and there. If I hadn't been denying my thirst for the last, well,too many years, I wouldn't have been able to stop myself." He paused,scowling at the trees.

　　He glanced at me grimly, both of us remembering. "You must have thought Iwas possessed.""I couldn't understand why. How you could hate me so quickly…""To me, it was like you were some kind of demon, summoned straight frommy own personal hell to ruin me. The fragrance coming off your skin… Ithought it would make me deranged that first day. In that one hour, Ithought of a hundred different ways to lure you from the room with me, toget you alone. And I fought them each back, thinking of my family, what Icould do to them. I had to run out, to get away before I could speak thewords that would make you follow…"He looked up then at my staggered expression as I tried to absorb hisbitter memories. His golden eyes scorched from under his lashes, hypnoticand deadly.

　　"You would have come," he promised.

　　I tried to speak calmly. "Without a doubt."He frowned down at my hands, releasing me from the force of his stare.

　　"And then, as I tried to rearrange my schedule in a pointless attempt toavoid you, you were there — in that close, warm little room, the scentwas maddening. I so very nearly took you then. There was only one otherfrail human there — so easily dealt with."I shivered in the warm sun, seeing my memories anew through his eyes,only now grasping the danger. Poor Ms. Cope; I shivered again at howclose I'd come to being inadvertently responsible for her death.

　　"But I resisted. I don't know how. I forced myself not to wait for you,not to follow you from the school. It was easier outside, when I couldn'tsmell you anymore, to think clearly, to make the right decision. I leftthe others near home — I was too ashamed to tell them how weak I was,they only knew something was very wrong — and then I went straight toCarlisle, at the hospital, to tell him I was leaving."I stared in surprise.

　　"I traded cars with him — he had a full tank of gas and I didn't want tostop. I didn't dare to go home, to face Esme. She wouldn't have let me gowithout a scene. She would have tried to convince me that it wasn'tnecessary…"By the next morning I was in Alaska." He sounded ashamed, as ifadmitting a great cowardice. "I spent two days there, with some oldacquaintances… but I was homesick. I hated knowing I'd upset Esme, andthe rest of them, my adopted family. In the pure air of the mountains itwas hard to believe you were so irresistible. I convinced myself it wasweak to run away. I'd dealt with temptation before, not of thismagnitude, not even close, but I was strong. Who were you, aninsignificant little girl" — he grinned suddenly — "to chase me from theplace I wanted to be? So I came back…" He stared off into space.

　　I couldn't speak.

　　"I took precautions, hunting, feeding more than usual before seeing youagain. I was sure that I was strong enough to treat you like any otherhuman. I was arrogant about it.

　　"It was unquestionably a complication that I couldn't simply read yourthoughts to know what your reaction was to me. I wasn't used to having togo to such circuitous measures, listening to your words in Jessica'smind… her mind isn't very original, and it was annoying to have to stoopto that. And then I couldn't know if you really meant what you said. Itwas all extremely irritating." He frowned at the memory.

　　"I wanted you to forget my behavior that first day, if possible, so Itried to talk with you like I would with any person. I was eageractually, hoping to decipher some of your thoughts. But you were toointeresting, I found myself caught up in your expressions… and every nowand then you would stir the air with your hand or your hair, and thescent would stun me again…"Of course, then you were nearly crushed to death in front of my eyes.

　　Later I thought of a perfectly good excuse for why I acted at that moment— because if I hadn't saved you, if your blood had been spilled there infront of me, I don't think I could have stopped myself from exposing usfor what we are. But I only thought of that excuse later. At the time,all I could think was, 'Not her.'"He closed his eyes, lost in his agonized confession. I listened, moreeager than rational. Common sense told me I should be terrified. Ins............