Midnight Sun (Twilight #1.5)(158)

"Will you?" she responded quickly, eagerly.

"I have to, because I'm going to be a little...over-bearingly protective over the next few days - or weeks - and I wouldn't want you to think I'm naturally a tyrant." I said.

"What's wrong?" she gasped in horror. Her blood started warming and moving at a quicker pace. The monster inside me clawed at my bones, wanting to embrace the temptation. I took in her fragrance, letting it fill my lungs. I easily over-rode any enticement this caused me.

"Nothing's wrong, exactly. Alice just sees some visitors coming soon. They know we're here, and they're curious," I explained quickly, trying to calm her now rampant pulse.

"Visitors?" she questioned.

"Yes...well, they aren't like us, of course - in their hunting habits, I mean. They probably won't come into town at all, but I'm certainly not going to let you out of my sight till they're gone." I watched her face apprehensively.

Her body trembled under stress.

"Finally, a rational response!" I exclaimed, "I was beginning to think you had no sense of self-preservation at all."

She didn't contest my observation and I was shocked that she would have this reaction to anything dangerous at all. Her blood slowed in her veins bringing her pulse back to its normal speed. She turned her face from mine, her eyes flowing from one end of the house to the other, distracted. I followed her gaze. Was she still looking for something suspect? "Not what you expected is it?" I asked.

"No," she admitted, returning her gaze to me briefly before continuing to soak up the rooms setting.

"No coffins, no piled skills in the corners; I don't even think we have cobwebs...what a disappointment this must be for you," I teased.

She remained serious, "It's so light...so open," she said.

"It's the one place we never have to hide," I explained to her. I also wanted to admit that she was included in this place... I would never have to hide from her.

My fingers were on the piano, automatically playing. The song was finally coming to a close. When it was finished Bella looked at me, "Thank you," she murmured.

I turned in my seat; bringing my whole attention back to her. There was moisture prominent in her eyes. The tears flowed over her eye lids. The aroma emitting from her tears was something I had never smelt before. She wiped the tears from her eyes. I noticed she had missed one. I brought my hand to her face, trapping a tear on my finger. I studied it. As a vampire, we could not produce tears. This was something entirely new. I brought it nonchalantly to my lips, seeing how it would taste. I was curious. It didn't taste disgusting, but it held no significance for me. She was staring at me with curiosity flaming in her eyes.

"Do you want to see the rest of the house?" I asked, distracting her.

"No coffins?" she verified.

"No coffins," I promised, a smile forming on my face.

We walked up the staircase that led to the upstairs where my room was. I watched her carefully as she made her way to the top. She was lightly caressing the stair rail as she went. I was jealous... I wanted it to be me. When we reached the top of the stairs I pointed out rooms as we walked, "Rosalie and Emmett's room...Carlisle's office...Alice's room..."

She froze, turning into a statue. Her eyes grew wide. I followed her gaze until I realized she was staring at the wooden cross at the end of the hallway. I remembered Alice's vision.

"You can laugh," I told her, "It is sort of ironic." I took a deep breath, bringing her fragrance into my lungs again. I was used to the dull ache.

She brought her hand out to touch the cross, but she did not proceed, "It must be very old," she guessed.

I shrugged, "Early sixteen-thirties, more or less." I mused.

She turned to face me, "Why do you keep this here?"

"Nostalgia. It belonged to Carlisle's father." I explained. I knew I was giving more information away then I had ever told a single soul before.

"He collected antiques?" she suggested doubtfully.

"No. He carved it his himself. It hung on the wall above the pulpit in the vicarage where he preached." I said.

She looked shocked.

"Are you all right?" I asked, worried about her expressions and silence.

"How old is Carlisle?" she wondered, trying to do the mental math in her head. I watched as her eyes looked fully in thought. I could almost see here calculating the numbers mentally.

"He just celebrated his three hundred and sixty-second birthday," I admitted.

She looked at me, questions burning in her eyes. I knew I would answer them all, if she were to ask. I took in another deep breath while I let her scent assault me.

18. Stories

I was worried that if I were to divulge the information that she would request that she would decide to never grace me with her presence again. I decided this was the best time to release some of our stories. She hadn't run away yet. I knew I would feel relieved once she knew the truth.

"Carlisle was born in London, in the sixteen-forties, he believes. Time wasn't marked as accurately then, for the common people anyway. It was just before Cromwell's rule, though." I began.

I watched her face carefully for any sign of distress. She showed no emotion. I continued, "He was the only son of an Anglican pastor. His mother died giving birth to him. His father was an intolerant man. As the Protestants came into power, he was enthusiastic in his persecution of Roman Catholics and other religions. He also believed very strongly in the reality of evil. He led hunts for witches, werewolves...and vampires."