Page 45 of Life and Death: Twilight Reimagined (The Twilight Saga)

I moved even more slowly than she had, careful not to make one unexpected move.

I stroked her cheek, let my fingertips graze across her lavender eyelids, the shadows in the hollows under her eyes.

I traced the shape of her straight nose, and then, so carefully, her perfect lips.

Her lips parted and I could feel her cool breath on my fingertips.

I wanted to lean in, to inhale her scent, but I knew that might be too much.

If she could control herself, so could I—if only on a much smaller scale.

I tried to move in slow motion so that she could guess everything I would do before I did it. I let my palms slide down the sides of her slender neck, let them rest on her shoulders while my thumbs followed the impossibly fragile curve of her collarbones.

She was much stronger than I was, in so many ways.

I seemed to lose control of my hands as they skimmed over the points of her shoulders and down across her sharp shoulder blades.

I couldn’t stop myself as my arms wrapped around her, pulling her against my chest again.

My hands crossed behind her and wrapped around either side of her waist.

She leaned into me, but that was the only movement. She wasn’t breathing.

So that gave me a time limit.

I bent down to press my face into her hair for one long second, inhaling a deep lungful of her scent. Then I forced myself to peel my hands off her and move away. One of my hands wouldn’t obey completely; it trailed down her arm and settled on her wrist.

“Sorry,” I muttered.

She opened her eyes, and they were hungry. Not in a way to make me afraid, but in a way that made the muscles in the pit of my stomach tighten into knots and sent my pulse hammering through my veins again.

“I wish . . . ,” she whispered, “I wish that you could feel the . . . complexity . . . the confusion . . . I feel. That you could understand.”

She raised her hand to my face, then ran her fingers quickly through my hair.

“Tell me,” I breathed.

“I don’t know if I can. You know, on the one hand, the hunger—the thirst—that, being what I am, I feel for you. And I think you can understand that, to an extent. Though”—and she half-smiled—“as you are not addicted to any illegal substances, you probably can’t empathize completely.

“But . . .” Her fingers touched my lips lightly, and my heart raced. “There are other things I want, other hungers. Hungers I don’t even understand myself.”

“I might understand that better than you think.”

“I’m not used to feeling so human. Is it always like this?”

“For me?” I paused. “No, never. Never before this.”

She put her hands on both sides of my face. “I don’t know how to be close to you. I don’t know if I can.”

I put my hand over hers, then leaned forward slowly till my forehead was touching hers.

“This is enough,” I sighed, closing my eyes.

We sat like that for a moment, and then her fingers moved into my hair. She angled her face up and pressed her lips to my forehead. The rhythm of my pulse exploded into a jagged sprint.

“You’re a lot better at this than you give yourself credit for,” I said when I could speak again.

She leaned away, taking my hands again. “I was born with human instincts—they may be buried deep, but they exist.”

We stared at each other for another immeasurable moment; I wondered if she was as unwilling to move as I was. But the light was fading, the shadows of the trees almost touching us.

“You have to go.”

“I thought you couldn’t read my mind.”

She smiled. “It’s getting clearer.”

A sudden excitement flared in her eyes. “Can I show you something?”

“Anything.”

She grinned. “How about a faster way back to the truck?”

I looked at her warily.

“Don’t you want to see how I travel in the forest?” she pressed. “I promise it’s safe.”

“Will you . . . turn into a bat?”

She burst into laughter. “Like I haven’t heard that one before!”

“Right, I’m sure you get that all the time.”

She was on her feet in another invisibly fast motion. She offered me her hand, and I jumped up next to her. She whirled around and looked back at me over her shoulder.

“Climb on my back.”

I blinked. “Huh?”

“Don’t be a coward, Beau, I promise this won’t hurt.”

She stood there waiting with her back toward me, totally serious.

“Edythe, I don’t . . . I mean, how ? ”

She spun back to me, one eyebrow raised. “Surely you’re familiar with the concept of a piggyback ride?”

I shrugged. “Sure, but . . .”

“What’s the problem, then?”

“Well . . . you’re so small .”

She blew out an exasperated breath, then vanished. This time I felt the wind from her passage. A second later, she was back with a boulder in one hand.

An actual boulder. One that she must have ripped out of the ground, because the bottom half was covered in clinging dirt and spidery roots. It would be as high as her waist if she set it down. She tilted her head to one side.

“That’s not what I meant. I’m not saying you’re not strong enough—”

She flipped the boulder lightly over her shoulder, and it sailed well past the edge of the forest and then crashed down to earth with the sound of shattering wood and stone.

“Obviously,” I went on. “But I . . . How would I fit?” I looked at my too-long legs and then back to her delicate frame.

She turned her back to me again. “Trust me.”

Feeling like the stupidest, most awkward person in all of history, I hesitantly put my arms around her neck.

“Come on,” she said impatiently. She reached back with one hand and grabbed my leg, yanking my knee up past her hip.

“Whoa!”

But she already had my other leg, and instead of toppling backward, she easily supported my weight. She moved my legs into position around her waist. My face was burning, and I knew I must look like a gorilla on a greyhound.

“Am I hurting you?”

“ Please , Beau.”

Embarrassed as I was, I was also very aware that my arms and legs were wrapped tightly around her slender body.

Suddenly she grabbed my hand and pressed my palm to her face. She inhaled deeply.

“Easier all the time,” she said.

And then she was running.

For the first time, I felt actual fear for my life. Terror.

She streaked through the forest like a bullet, like a ghost. There was no sound, no evidence that her feet ever touched the ground. Her breathing never changed, never indicated any effort. But the trees flew by at deadly speeds, always missing us by inches.

I was too shocked to close my eyes, though the cool air whipped against my face and burned them. It felt like I was sticking my head out the window of an airplane in flight.

Then it was over. We’d hiked hours this morning to reach Edythe’s meadow, and now, in a matter of minutes—not even minutes, seconds —we were back to the truck.

“Exhilarating, isn’t it?” Her voice was high, excited.

She stood motionless, waiting for me to unwind my legs and step away from her. I did try, but I couldn’t get my muscles to unfreeze. My arms and legs stayed locked while my head spun uncomfortably.

“Beau?” she asked, anxious now.

“I might need to lie down,” I gasped.

“Oh. I’m sorry.”

It took me a few seconds to remember how to loosen my fingers. Then everything seemed to come undone at the same time, and I half-fell off her, stumbling backward until I lost my footing and finished the other half of the fall.

She held out her hand, trying not to laugh, but I refused her offer. Instead, I stayed down and put my head between my knees. My ears were ringing and my head whirled in queasy circles.

A cold hand rested lightly against the back of my neck. It helped.

“I guess that wasn’t the best idea,” she mused.

I tried to be positive, but my voice was hollow. “No, it was very interesting.”

“Hah! You’re as white as a ghost—no, worse, you’re as white as me !”

“I think I should have closed my eyes.”

“Remember that next time.”

I looked up, startled. “Next time?”

She laughed, her mood still flying.

“Show-off,” I muttered, and put my head down again.

After a half-minute, the swirling motion slowed.

“Look at me, Beau.”

I lifted my head, and she was right there, her face just inches from mine. Her beauty was like a sucker punch that left me stunned. I couldn’t get used to it.

“I was thinking, while I was running—”

“About not hitting trees, I hope,” I interrupted breathlessly.

“Silly Beau. Running is second nature to me. It’s not something I have to think about.”

“Show-off,” I muttered again.

She smiled. “No, I was thinking there was something I wanted to try.” She put her hands on my face again.

I couldn’t breathe.

She hesitated. It felt like a test, making sure this was safe, that she was still in control of herself.

And then her cold, perfect lips pressed very softly against mine.

Neither of us was ready for my reaction.

Blood boiled under my skin, burned in my lips. My breath came in a wild gasp. My fingers tangled in her hair, locking her face to mine. My lips opened as I breathed in her heady scent.

Immediately, she turned to unresponsive stone beneath my lips. Her hands gently, but forcibly, pushed my face back. I opened my eyes and saw her expression.

“Whoops,” I said.

“That’s an understatement.”

Her eyes were wild, her jaw clenched in restraint. My face was still just inches from hers, my fingers twisted through her hair.

“Should I . . . ?” I tried to disengage myself, to give her some room.

Her hands didn’t release me.

“No, it’s tolerable. Wait for a moment, please.” Her voice was polite, controlled.

I kept my eyes on hers, watching as the excitement in them faded and gentled.

She grinned, obviously pleased with herself. “There.”

“Tolerable?” I asked.

She laughed. “I’m stronger than I thought. It’s nice to know.”

“And I’m not. Sorry.”

“You are only human, after all.”

I sighed. “Yeah.”

She freed her hair from my fingers, and then she was on her feet in one of her lithe, nearly invisible movements. She held her hand out again, and this time I took it and pulled myself up. I needed the support; my balance hadn’t returned yet. I wobbled slightly as I took a step away from her.

“Are you still reeling from the run, or was it my kissing expertise?” She seemed very human as she laughed now, careless and lighthearted. She was a new Edythe, different than the one I’d known, and I was even more besotted by her. It would cause me physical pain to be separated from her now.

“Both.”

“Maybe you should let me drive.”

“Uh, I think I’ve had enough of your need for speed for today. . . .”

“I can drive better than you on your best day,” she said. “You have much slower reflexes.”

“I believe you, but I don’t think my truck could handle your driving.”

“Some trust, please, Beau.”

My hand curled around the key in my pocket. I pursed my lips, like I was deliberating, then shook my head with a tight grin.

“Nope. Not a chance.”

She raised her eyebrows, grabbed a fistful of my t-shirt, and yanked. I nearly stumbled into her, catching myself with one hand against her shoulder.

“Beau, I’ve already expended a great deal of personal effort at this point to keep you alive. I’m not about to let you get behind the wheel of a vehicle when you can’t even walk straight. Friends don’t let friends drive drunk.”

“Drunk?” I objected.

She leaned up on her tiptoes so that her face was closer to mine. I could smell the unbearably sweet fragrance of her breath. “You’re intoxicated by my very presence.”

“I can’t argue with that.” I sighed. There was no way around it—I couldn’t resist her in anything. I held the key high and dropped it, watching her hand flash like lightning to catch it without a sound. “Take it easy. My truck is a senior citizen.”

“Very sensible.”

She dropped my shirt and ducked out from under my hand.

“So you’re not affected at all? By my presence?”

She turned back and reached for my hand, holding it to her face again. She leaned into my palm, her eyes sliding closed. She took a slow, deep breath.

“Regardless . . . ,” she murmured. Her eyes flashed open and she grinned. “I have better reflexes.”