The Twilight Saga Collection

by Stephenie Meyer

  I examined his face suspiciously, and he gave me a serene smile.

  “Whatever makes me happy?”

  My stomach growled at the same time that I asked.

  “You’re hungry,” he said quickly. He was swiftly out of the bed, stirring up a cloud of feathers. Which reminded me.

  “So, why exactly did you decide to ruin Esme’s pillows?” I asked, sitting up and shaking more down from my hair.

  He had already pulled on a pair of loose khaki pants, and he stood by the door, rumpling his hair, dislodging a few feathers of his own.

  “I don’t know if I decided to do anything last night,” he muttered. “We’re just lucky it was the pillows and not you.” He inhaled deeply and then shook his head, as if shaking off the dark thought. A very authentic-looking smile spread across his face, but I guessed it took a lot of work to put it there.

  I slid carefully off the high bed and stretched again, more aware, now, of the aches and sore spots. I heard him gasp. He turned away from me, and his hands balled up, knuckles white.

  “Do I look that hideous?” I asked, working to keep my tone light. His breath caught, but he didn’t turn, probably to hide his expression from me. I walked to the bathroom to check for myself.

  I stared at my naked body in the full-length mirror behind the door.

  I’d definitely had worse. There was a faint shadow across one of my cheekbones, and my lips were a little swollen, but other than that, my face was fine. The rest of me was decorated with patches of blue and purple. I concentrated on the bruises that would be the hardest to hide—my arms and my shoulders. They weren’t so bad. My skin marked up easily. By the time a bruise showed I’d usually forgotten how I’d come by it. Of course, these were just developing. I’d look even worse tomorrow. That would not make things any easier.

  I looked at my hair, then, and groaned.

  “Bella?” He was right there behind me as soon as I’d made a sound.

  “I’ll never get this all out of my hair!” I pointed to my head, where it looked like a chicken was nesting. I started picking at the feathers.

  “You would be worried about your hair,” he mumbled, but he came to stand behind me, pulling out the feathers much more quickly.

  “How did you keep from laughing at this? I look ridiculous.”

  He didn’t answer; he just kept plucking. And I knew the answer anyway—there was nothing that would be funny to him in this mood.

  “This isn’t going to work,” I sighed after a minute. “It’s all dried in. I’m going to have to try to wash it out.” I turned around, wrapping my arms around his cool waist. “Do you want to help me?”

  “I’d better find some food for you,” he said in a quiet voice, and he gently unwound my arms. I sighed as he disappeared, moving too fast.

  It looked like my honeymoon was over. The thought put a big lump in my throat.

  When I was mostly feather-free and dressed in an unfamiliar white cotton dress that concealed the worst of the violet blotches, I padded off barefoot to where the smell of eggs and bacon and cheddar cheese was coming from.

  Edward stood in front of the stainless steel stove, sliding an omelet onto the light blue plate waiting on the counter. The scent of the food overwhelmed me. I felt like I could eat the plate and the frying pan, too; my stomach snarled.

  “Here,” he said. He turned with a smile on his face and set the plate on a small tiled table.

  I sat in one of the two metal chairs and started snarfing down the hot eggs. They burned my throat, but I didn’t care.

  He sat down across from me. “I’m not feeding you often enough.”

  I swallowed and then reminded him, “I was asleep. This is really good, by the way. Impressive for someone who doesn’t eat.”

  “Food Network,” he said, flashing my favorite crooked smile.

  I was happy to see it, happy that he seemed more like his normal self.

  “Where did the eggs come from?”

  “I asked the cleaning crew to stock the kitchen. A first, for this place. I’ll have to ask them to deal with the feathers.… ” He trailed off, his gaze fixed on a space above my head. I didn’t respond, trying to avoid saying anything that would upset him again.

  I ate everything, though he’d made enough for two.

  “Thank you,” I told him. I leaned across the table to kiss him. He kissed me back automatically, and then suddenly stiffened and leaned away.

  I gritted my teeth, and the question I meant to ask came out sounding like an accusation. “You aren’t going to touch me again while we’re here, are you?”

  He hesitated, then half-smiled and raised his hand to stroke my cheek. His fingers lingered softly on my skin, and I couldn’t help leaning my face into his palm.

  “You know that’s not what I meant.”

  He sighed and dropped his hand. “I know. And you’re right.” He paused, lifting his chin slightly. And then he spoke again with firm conviction. “I will not make love with you until you’ve been changed. I will never hurt you again.”

  6. DISTRACTIONS

  My entertainment became the number-one priority on Isle Esme. We snorkeled (well, I snorkeled while he flaunted his ability to go without oxygen indefinitely). We explored the small jungle that ringed the rocky little peak. We visited the parrots that lived in the canopy on the south end of the island. We watched the sunset from the rocky western cove. We swam with the porpoises that played in the warm, shallow waters there. Or at least I did; when Edward was in the water, the porpoises disappeared as if a shark was near.

  I knew what was going on. He was trying to keep me busy, distracted, so I that wouldn’t continue badgering him about the sex thing. Whenever I tried to talk him into taking it easy with one of the million DVDs under the big-screen plasma TV, he would lure me out of the house with magic words like coral reefs and submerged caves and sea turtles. We were going, going, going all day, so that I found myself completely famished and exhausted when the sun eventually set.

  I drooped over my plate after I finished dinner every night; once I’d actually fallen asleep right at the table and he’d had to carry me to bed. Part of it was that Edward always made too much food for one, but I was so hungry after swimming and climbing all day that I ate most of it. Then, full and worn out, I could barely keep my eyes open. All part of the plan, no doubt.

  Exhaustion didn’t help much with my attempts at persuasion. But I didn’t give up. I tried reasoning, pleading, and grouching, all to no avail. I was usually unconscious before I could really press my case far. And then my dreams felt so real—nightmares mostly, made more vivid, I guessed, by the too-bright colors of the island—that I woke up tired no matter how long I slept.

  About a week or so after we’d gotten to the island, I decided to try compromise. It had worked for us in the past.

  I was sleeping in the blue room now. The cleaning crew wasn’t due until the next day, and so the white room still had a snowy blanket of down. The blue room was smaller, the bed more reasonably proportioned. The walls were dark, paneled in teak, and the fittings were all luxurious blue silk.

  I’d taken to wearing some of Alice’s lingerie collection to sleep in at night—which weren’t so revealing compared to the scanty bikinis she’d packed for me when it came right down to it. I wondered if she’d seen a vision of why I would want such things, and then shuddered, embarrassed by that thought.

  I’d started out slow with innocent ivory satins, worried that revealing more of my skin would be the opposite of helpful, but ready to try anything. Edward seemed to notice nothing, as if I were wearing the same ratty old sweats I wore at home.

  The bruises were much better now—yellowing in some places and disappearing altogether in others—so tonight I pulled out one of the scarier pieces as I got ready in the paneled bathroom. It was black, lacy, and embarrassing to look at even when it wasn’t on. I was careful not to look in the mirror before I went back to the bedroom. I didn’t want to lose my n
erve.

  I had the satisfaction of watching his eyes pop open wide for just a second before he controlled his expression.

  “What do you think?” I asked, pirouetting so that he could see every angle.

  He cleared his throat. “You look beautiful. You always do.”

  “Thanks,” I said a bit sourly.

  I was too tired to resist climbing quickly into the soft bed. He put his arms around me and pulled me against his chest, but this was routine—it was too hot to sleep without his cool body close.

  “I’ll make you a deal,” I said sleepily.

  “I will not make any deals with you,” he answered.

  “You haven’t even heard what I’m offering.”

  “It doesn’t matter.”

  I sighed. “Dang it. And I really wanted… Oh well.”

  He rolled his eyes.

  I closed mine and let the bait sit there. I yawned.

  It took only a minute—not long enough for me to zonk out.

  “All right. What is it you want?”

  I gritted my teeth for a second, fighting a smile. If there was one thing he couldn’t resist, it was an opportunity to give me something.

  “Well, I was thinking… I know that the whole Dartmouth thing was just supposed to be a cover story, but honestly, one semester of college probably wouldn’t kill me,” I said, echoing his words from long ago, when he’d tried to persuade me to put off becoming a vampire. “Charlie would get a thrill out of Dartmouth stories, I bet. Sure, it might be embarrassing if I can’t keep up with all the brainiacs. Still… eighteen, nineteen. It’s really not such a big difference. It’s not like I’m going to get crow’s feet in the next year.”

  He was silent for a long moment. Then, in a low voice, he said, “You would wait. You would stay human.”

  I held my tongue, letting the offer sink in.

  “Why are you doing this to me?” he said through his teeth, his tone suddenly angry. “Isn’t it hard enough without all of this?” He grabbed a handful of lace that was ruffled on my thigh. For a moment, I thought he was going to rip it from the seam. Then his hand relaxed. “It doesn’t matter. I won’t make any deals with you.”

  “I want to go to college.”

  “No, you don’t. And there is nothing that is worth risking your life again. That’s worth hurting you.”

  “But I do want to go. Well, it’s not college as much as it’s that I want—I want to be human a little while longer.”

  He closed his eyes and exhaled through his nose. “You are making me insane, Bella. Haven’t we had this argument a million times, you always begging to be a vampire without delay?”

  “Yes, but… well, I have a reason to be human that I didn’t have before.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Guess,” I said, and I dragged myself off the pillows to kiss him.

  He kissed me back, but not in a way that made me think I was winning. It was more like he was being careful not to hurt my feelings; he was completely, maddeningly in control of himself. Gently, he pulled me away after a moment and cradled me against his chest.

  “You are so human, Bella. Ruled by your hormones.” He chuckled.

  “That’s the whole point, Edward. I like this part of being human. I don’t want to give it up yet. I don’t want to wait through years of being a blood-crazed newborn for some part of this to come back to me.”

  I yawned, and he smiled.

  “You’re tired. Sleep, love.” He started humming the lullaby he’d composed for me when we first met.

  “I wonder why I’m so tired,” I muttered sarcastically. “That couldn’t be part of your scheme or anything.”

  He just chuckled once and went back to humming.

  “For as tired as I’ve been, you’d think I’d sleep better.”

  The song broke off. “You’ve been sleeping like the dead, Bella. You haven’t said a word in your sleep since we got here. If it weren’t for the snoring, I’d worry you were slipping into a coma.”

  I ignored the snoring jibe; I didn’t snore. “I haven’t been tossing? That’s weird. Usually I’m all over the bed when I’m having nightmares. And shouting.”

  “You’ve been having nightmares?”

  “Vivid ones. They make me so tired.” I yawned. “I can’t believe I haven’t been babbling about them all night.”

  “What are they about?”

  “Different things—but the same, you know, because of the colors.”

  “Colors?”

  “It’s all so bright and real. Usually, when I’m dreaming, I know that I am. With these, I don’t know I’m asleep. It makes them scarier.”

  He sounded disturbed when he spoke again. “What is frightening you?”

  I shuddered slightly. “Mostly . . .” I hesitated.

  “Mostly?” he prompted.

  I wasn’t sure why, but I didn’t want to tell him about the child in my recurring nightmare; there was something private about that particular horror. So, instead of giving him the full description, I gave him just one element. Certainly enough to frighten me or anyone else.

  “The Volturi,” I whispered.

  He hugged me tighter. “They aren’t going to bother us anymore. You’ll be immortal soon, and they’ll have no reason.”

  I let him comfort me, feeling a little guilty that he’d misunderstood. The nightmares weren’t like that, exactly. It wasn’t that I was afraid for myself—I was afraid for the boy.

  He wasn’t the same boy as that first dream—the vampire child with the bloodred eyes who sat on a pile of dead people I loved. This boy I’d dreamed of four times in the last week was definitely human; his cheeks were flushed and his wide eyes were a soft green. But just like the other child, he shook with fear and desperation as the Volturi closed in on us.

  In this dream that was both new and old, I simply had to protect the unknown child. There was no other option. At the same time, I knew that I would fail.

  He saw the desolation on my face. “What can I do to help?”

  I shook it off. “They’re just dreams, Edward.”

  “Do you want me to sing to you? I’ll sing all night if it will keep the bad dreams away.”

  “They’re not all bad. Some are nice. So… colorful. Underwater, with the fish and the coral. It all seems like it’s really happening—I don’t know that I’m dreaming. Maybe this island is the problem. It’s really bright here.”

  “Do you want to go home?”

  “No. No, not yet. Can’t we stay awhile longer?”

  “We can stay as long as you want, Bella,” he promised me.

  “When does the semester start? I wasn’t paying attention before.”

  He sighed. He may have started humming again, too, but I was under before I could be sure.

  Later, when I awoke in the dark, it was with shock. The dream had been so very real… so vivid, so sensory.… I gasped aloud, now, disoriented by the dark room. Only a second ago, it seemed, I had been under the brilliant sun.

  “Bella?” Edward whispered, his arms tight around me, shaking me gently. “Are you all right, sweetheart?”

  “Oh,” I gasped again. Just a dream. Not real. To my utter astonishment, tears overflowed from my eyes without warning, gushing down my face.

  “Bella!” he said—louder, alarmed now. “What’s wrong?” He wiped the tears from my hot cheeks with cold, frantic fingers, but others followed.

  “It was only a dream.” I couldn’t contain the low sob that broke in my voice. The senseless tears were disturbing, but I couldn’t get control of the staggering grief that gripped me. I wanted so badly for the dream to be real.

  “It’s okay, love, you’re fine. I’m here.” He rocked me back and forth, a little too fast to soothe. “Did you have another nightmare? It wasn’t real, it wasn’t real.”

  “Not a nightmare.” I shook my head, scrubbing the back of my hand against my eyes. “It was a good dream.” My voice broke again.

  “Then wh
y are you crying?” he asked, bewildered.

  “Because I woke up,” I wailed, wrapping my arms around his neck in a chokehold and sobbing into his throat.

  He laughed once at my logic, but the sound was tense with concern.

  “Everything’s all right, Bella. Take deep breaths.”

  “It was so real,” I cried. “I wanted it to be real.”

  “Tell me about it,” he urged. “Maybe that will help.”

  “We were on the beach. . . .” I trailed off, pulling back to look with tear-filled eyes at his anxious angel’s face, dim in the darkness. I stared at him broodingly as the unreasonable grief began to ebb.

  “And?” he finally prompted.

  I blinked the tears out of my eyes, torn. “Oh, Edward . . .”

  “Tell me, Bella,” he pleaded, eyes wild with worry at the pain in my voice.

  But I couldn’t. Instead I clutched my arms around his neck again and locked my mouth with his feverishly. It wasn’t desire at all—it was need, acute to the point of pain. His response was instant but quickly followed by his rebuff.

  He struggled with me as gently as he could in his surprise, holding me away, grasping my shoulders.

  “No, Bella,” he insisted, looking at me as if he was worried that I’d lost my mind.

  My arms dropped, defeated, the bizarre tears spilling in a fresh torrent down my face, a new sob rising in my throat. He was right—I must be crazy.

  He stared at me with confused, anguished eyes.

  “I’m s-s-s-orry,” I mumbled.

  But he pulled me to him then, hugging me tightly to his marble chest.

  “I can’t, Bella, I can’t!” His moan was agonized.

  “Please,” I said, my plea muffled against his skin. “Please, Edward?”

  I couldn’t tell if he was moved by the tears trembling in my voice, or if he was unprepared to deal with the suddenness of my attack, or if his need was simply as unbearable in that moment as my own. But whatever the reason, he pulled my lips back to his, surrendering with a groan.