Dying Doesn't Seem So Cruel

"Welcome, my dear, to our own personal island."

"Our . . . own personal island?"

"Yes. No one but me and you."

I wrapped my arms around my husband's waist. "This is amazing."

"Guess what it's called."

"Um . . . no idea."

"Isle Emma."

"No way!"

"Yes. I got it for you and named it after the teddy bear I got you. Consider it a wedding gift."

"Emmett!"

"What? Don't you like it?"

"I do. I love it a lot."

"Then what's the problem?"

"I didn't get you anything."

"Yes, you did. You became my wife. You put your life at risk every minute, every second, you're with me."

"You push aside your thirst for me."

"I want to. Hurting you would kill me."

"Can I ask you something?"

"Of course."

"Well, were you ever, um, considering turning me?"

"Dahlia, please don't start that."

"I just don't want you to have to keep worrying about me and have to watch every move you make, hoping not to hurt me."

"That's what I want."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes. Now . . . let's go for a swim."

"Can I eat first?"

"Of course," he laughed. "Come on."

The house was almost identical to the Cullen's mansion, except this house was only one story. A hallway off to the left of the entry hall led to, obviously, the bedrooms. The kitchen was to the right; I stood in the open space. An island in the middle faced the wide wall-sized windows, and fancy appliances stood sparkling on the granite countertops. The hot sun streamed in through a skylight above, and I marveled at the sheer beauty. Emmett slipped his cold hand into mine and led me through the living room (equipped with a large, fluffy, black couch; a television; a stereo; and a chess-board), down the hall, past the bathroom, and into one of the two bedrooms. A king-sized bed stood against the wall opposite the window; a canopy sloped down and rested on the dark-wooded floors. The walls had been painted a pale peach colour. The other room was similar minus the paint: The second had pale sea-foam green walls.

"Emmett, this is gorgeous. I-I . . . I'm speechless."

"I'm glad you love it."

"It's the best wedding present I could ever ask for."

His frozen mouth moved under mine, and I suddenly found myself lying on my back on the mattress in the green room. I could feel his icy hands sliding up beneath my t-shirt; I shoved but pulled him closer. Unfortunately, he had other ideas: He pulled away.

"I thought you were hungry," he panted, as stunned by the kiss as I was.

"I lied?"

"Your stomach says otherwise. Let's go."