Spiral Static

There’s one thing people never mention in romance novels: red rose petals wreak havoc on bed linens.

My eyes peeled apart slowly as I woke from my dreamless sleep, and I stared for a moment at the dark red smears on the sheet beside my face. For a second I thought it was blood, and my mind strained against the dim shroud of drowsiness to remember where I was.

I shifted, attempting to rise to a sitting position ... then stopped dead.

Oh. Oh, wow. I was sore.

Groaning, I let my head fall back onto the pillow and blinked at the ceiling. As I lay there, it all came back to me, every burning hot second of it. I smiled, content despite the pain. It only took a few moments to figure out that it didn’t hurt if I stayed still. That was a plus. Now if I could only just lie there all day without needing to move or go to the bathroom.

I reached a hand across the sheets, searching for Edward, and my smile slipped a bit when I encountered nothing but bruised rose petals. That wasn’t unusual – not anything to worry over, anyway – perhaps a bit disappointing, though. Little by little, ever so carefully, I pushed myself up onto my elbows, trying to ignore the way my muscles screamed at me in protest. I glanced around through the messy screen of my tangled curls, then pushed my hair out of my face. The room was still dark, the curtains drawn shut against the morning. I could hear the soft tinkle of rain hitting the window outside. I speculated whether or not our plane would get delayed because of the weather.

I turned, wondering if there was some water to be had somewhere – and it was then that I saw the cold eyes glinting at me from across the room. He was so utterly still – in that maddening way that only Edward could be still – that I hadn’t even noticed he was there. He was seated in a leather chair, fully clothed; he was even wearing his shoes, laces neatly tied. His hands were clamped on the end of the armrests. His knuckles, white. His face, livid. Had I not known him, it would have been easy to think that hateful glare was intended for me. But it wasn’t. At least, I prayed it wasn’t.

“Edward…” I said, voice cracking from disuse while I slept. I really needed a glass of water. “What’s wrong?”

His hands tightened on the arms of the chair. I jolted when I heard the crack of wood, sharp like a whip.

“What happened?” I pressed, pulling up the sheet to cover myself. I felt suddenly self-conscious.

It took him a minute to respond. When he did, his voice had a strange quality to it. Light and dreamlike.

“I hurt you.”

He looked like he didn’t really believe what he was saying – as if he couldn’t fathom it. His beautiful face twisted into disgust. Fury.

“N-no, you didn’t.” It was a lie, I admit. He had hurt me, but knowing how much worse it could have been – how terribly close it had come to being worse – well, I guess it just made me a little more thankful for his self-control than I normally was.

“Don’t lie to me,” he all but snarled. I flinched away from him, telling myself again that it wasn’t me he was mad at. “I can see the bruises, Bella! I can smell the blood seeping under your skin!”

He was right, I realized. I was bruised. I could see one on my forearm and one on the inside of my thigh, dark against my pale skin. There were probably others I couldn’t see, but I wasn’t about to pull the sheet back to get a better look – that would give him a better look at them, too, and I didn’t think he needed anything else to get further incensed over.

“Well. At least you didn’t kill me. That would have been a little worse, right?” I offered, trying to lighten the feel in the room.

“Don’t you dare joke about this. I’m never touching you again.”

I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. He was so raw, so genuinely grieved ... no, it would have been cruel of me to mock that.

“Oh, Edward.” I sighed and scrubbed my eyes with a fist, trying to wake up. I was too groggy for an argument. Too sensitive, sitting on the bed where I’d shared such a special but terrifying moment with him. “I’m sorry. I can’t deal with this right now. Look, I’m gonna take a shower. You could ... you could join me if you wanted to.” I said the last part as an afterthought, and my eyes widened as the words came out of my mouth. I had the sudden image in my head of us standing together, intertwined in the steam from the hot water. Oh, dear.

“Bella. ”

He said my name like a command. I wasn’t looking at him, but I could almost see his perfect teeth grinding, brilliant white even in the dimness of the room. He wanted me to stay there where he could see me and talk to me. He wanted me to prove to him that I was really okay, and that I wasn’t angry. He also wanted me to punish him, but I was too tired to indulge his need for mental self-flagellation. My body was aching like I’d run ten full marathons, then gone to bed without bothering to stretch. I needed a shower. A blazing hot shower. Maybe a couple of Aspirin if I could find some.

Pulling the sheet around my body, I got up from the bed, having to stifle the groan that almost slipped out. Walking was difficult, like I was suffering from a hangover. When I turned on the light in the bathroom, it was suddenly so bright that I had to cover my eyes with a hand. Somehow I got the shower going without looking. Letting the bedsheet drop to the floor, I stepped inside and let my body get drenched, head and all, in the cold water that eventually became gloriously hot. The bathroom filled with steam, and I let myself relax. And think.

It’s a strange thing, realizing that you’re not a virgin anymore. It’s like someone telling you that your hair is blond when you know for a fact you’re a brunette, then looking in the mirror and realizing they’re right. Then you suddenly remember that you had your hair dyed the previous night. Yes, you had your “hair dyed” aaall night long. In short, it’s a subtle but important change in your sense of self.

Tugging the back the curtain, I peeked out of the shower to look in the mirror, wondering if I would look older now ... but saw him standing there instead. I hadn’t even heard him enter the room.

He stood leaning against the counter with his arms crossed over his chest, fists clenched. He watched me shower in brooding silence, a new kind of tension blending with his anger, shimmering off his body like a desert mirage. Or maybe that was just the steam from the shower. The curtain was see-though, of course – just a draped piece of transparent fabric that did nothing to hide the contours of my body from his eyes – because hotels obviously don’t think people staying in the honeymoon suite would ever need privacy.

I quickly faced forward, wishing there was some place to hide from his gaze. I knew that it was silly of me to be shy now that he’d already seen every inch of me, but there it was ... the blush burning through my whole body like a fever. The water was suddenly scalding hot, and I fumbled with the knobs to make it cooler. Why was he still looking at me like that? Hadn’t the novelty of naked-blushing-Bella worn off yet? I could feel the burn of his gaze, hot on my back.

“Are you mad at me?” I whispered. A normal human being would have never heard me.

“Yes.”

I swallowed hard. So some of that anger was directed at me after all.

“You broke your promise to me, Bella. You said nothing.”

“I didn’t break anything. I said I would say something if it was too much. It wasn’t. Besides, would you have been able to stop if I had?”

He sighed, disgusted. “It doesn’t matter anyway. It’s never going to happen again.”

“The hell it isn’t.”

“What?” he barked.

I grit my teeth in frustration. I was groggy, sore, much too vulnerable than I wanted to be, and I had had it. Snapping the curtain back, I reared on him and bit out, “Look, Edward. I married you. Me! The antithesis of a bride. I know what I signed up for. I’ve seen you struggle. I’ve seen you at your most frightening. I’ve paid the price with my blood before, and I’ll keep doing it. I’m not some glutton for punishment. I’m not a masochist. I don’t like being bruised or hurt, but if it’s the only way I can be intimate with you, then who cares? People get bruised doing stuff they love all the time. Dirt-biking, horseback riding, surfing, gymnastics. Do they stop doing it? I’ll heal. Now stop being so damn melodramatic before I scream! God. ”

He stared at me for a few long moments, stunned. I could swear I saw the corner of his mouth twitch. “You’re crabby when you haven’t eaten.”

“Likewise,” I hissed, pulling the curtain closed again. I grabbed the soap and scrubbed at my arms furiously ... then froze at the resulting wave of pain. I stared at my arm, just under the shoulder. The purple bruise there was so clear that I could almost see the outline of his fingers. It might have made a convincing argument at the time, but to be honest, people didn’t get bruises like that ... not even in gymnastics.

I felt him at my back unexpectedly. The shower curtain hadn’t even moved when he’d slipped in behind me. I didn’t think he would have gotten in with his clothes on, but there was no way I was going to turn around to look and see. I was too angry. I had the sneaking suspicion that he was only showering with me so he could see if there were more contusions on my body that were previously covered up.

Then he touched me, wet fingertips grazing my bare waist, and I forgot why I was angry with him. He took the soap from me, and I held very still as he washed me – starting at my shoulders, then moving down my arms and tummy – touching each mark on my skin with the gentlest hand.

“Oh, Bella...” he whispered, dropping a kiss on the bruise on my arm. “I’m so very sorry. I don’t know what to do. I don’t know how to make this right. I don’t know anything anymore. I’m so utterly weak when it comes to you. Me, who fancies himself so strong. I still can’t get used to it.”

I said nothing as he continued to wash me but bit my lower lip when he cleansed the area between my thighs. I was really sore there, more than anywhere else. I noticed that little specks of red ran into the water as he did so. Blood, I realized. Dried. Just a bit. Not a big deal – hardly enough to notice. But I wondered if it bothered him, smelling it.

I glanced at his face. No, I decided. He just looked angry.

He swept my hair to the side, then became very still.

“Is that ... is that a bite mark on your neck?” He breathed the words in disbelief, more to himself than to me. “Oh, God. It is, isn’t it?”

I stared at his astonished expression and felt a pang of pity. He looked like he was about to cry. “You really don’t remember, do you?”

He spun me around to face him and pulled me close, forcing my chin up so that he could look at the mark on my neck more carefully. I trembled as the tips of my breasts brushed against his wet chest. “I don’t see a wound. Just a bruise ... no blood. I didn’t bite down? Answer me, Bella. ”

I answered his frantic question with calmness. “I think we’d both know by now if you’d bitten down. No, Edward. You stopped yourself. You’re stronger than you think you are.”

“Strong?” he sneered. “I’m a monster.”

You’re human, I almost said. But that wasn’t entirely accurate. “Do you remember when you first met me? When you first smelled me, I should say? That day in Biology.”

His golden eyes flickered black for a moment. “Wanting to murder someone in cold blood in the middle of a crowded classroom is not something one easily forgets.”

“That got easier for you, right? You learned to control it and be gentle with me. You can learn again. It’ll get easier.” I spoke like I was consoling a child. He looked like one just then – narrow shoulders shaking in anguish under the water, bronze hair soaked and flat across his forehead.

His teeth flashed. “Perhaps. Perhaps not. It’s easy to be gentle when we’re not touching ... or when the contact stays at a low simmer. But Bella, it’s easy to lose myself when it crosses a certain point. I’ve tried so hard to keep you safe from that. You overestimate my control.”

My eyes narrowed, not wanting to listen to him. “It doesn’t really matter anyway. I’m not going to be human forever. You can’t hurt me then.”

That didn’t please him at all. Again, his face melted into fury. “Bella... ”

I raised trembling fingertips to his lips, my voice taking on an urgent tone that embarrassed me because I couldn’t control it. “Shhhh. Please please just stop. You’re ruining this for me, Edward...”

And then to my shame, I started to cry. I hated doing that. I wasn’t one of those girls that used tears to manipulate. But it all just bubbled up from my chest before I knew what was happening.

The hard mask of his face melted. “No, no no ... don’t cry, Bella.”

I pushed him away when he tried to hold me, unwilling to accept the comfort for allowing myself to have such a weak moment. After indulging in a few silent sobs, I managed to stop the flow of tears with no small amount of effort. “Just stop this, Edward,” I whispered. “Please. I need you right now. I need you to be normal. I need you to be my Edward because nothing is normal right now, and I can’t stand it if you fall into that category, too.”

“All right,” he said, his mouth a breath away from my face. “We’ll drop it. For now. But this conversation isn’t over. I’m sorry, but I love you too much for it to be over.”

I let him hold me then because it didn’t feel manipulative. As he kissed water droplets from my lips, I whispered, “We could try again. Right now. We can work on your control.”

I said the words reluctantly. It would be a lie to say I hadn’t enjoyed last night, but my body needed a little more time to recoup before an encore performance.

Edward apparently agreed, though with a bit more fervor. He fumed down at me, suddenly as furious as he’d been when I’d first woken up. “Are you insane?” I flinched away from the volume of his voice. He clenched his hands into fists again, obviously trying to contain his temper, then tried again after a moment, quieter this time. “No, Bella. I can see you’re in pain. It’s written all over your body.”

I swayed on my feet, suddenly desperate for some way to hold onto that intimate connection we’d established while making love last night. I wasn’t ready to let him throw it all away out of fear.

“It’s just that you made me feel so good last night when you ... I could do the same for you.”

I didn’t want to put a proper noun to it and flushed in embarrassment.

I let my eyes fall from his face down the length of his body. It was the first time I’d really allowed myself to look at him. The lights had, after all, been extinguished at my request last night before his clothing had been removed, and I hadn’t worked up the courage before now to look at what he so unabashedly put on display for me.

Every inch of him was perfect. It just wasn’t fair, I decided, frown deepening on my face. I had said something similar the night before, and I still meant it. It was a difficult thing to accept when your other half was prettier than you were.

I had no way of judging his size. Sure, I’d seen the diagrams in school and even had a brief glance at the real thing on a sex-ed video, always presented in a cold, scientific way meant to desensitize rather than suggest anything sensual. Even erect, I knew enough to recognize that he was uncircumcised. Edward might have been disappointing to another person, or he might have been a god among men for all I knew. But that didn’t matter one bit to me. I now knew from experience gained the previous evening that I couldn’t have stood it if he was a centimeter larger. He was a perfect match for me ... well, once I got used to him anyway.

“I could...” I began. I reached a hand out to touch him, but he brushed it away.

“No,” he said flatly. “God, Bella. You really don’t get it, do you?”

Then I blinked, and he was gone.

I hated it when he did that, just disappeared so suddenly that it took me a good ten seconds to really register that he had moved faster than my eyes could follow and that I hadn’t just imagined him there in the shower with me.

I finished up, a numb feeling weighing heavy in the pit of my stomach as I washed my hair. Edward had never, ever been this angry with me. Not even when I’d put the fate of my own mortality up to a vote for his family, and he’d smashed furniture in the other room in his fury. This was a quieter anger, but it was more frightening than if he’d destroyed the hotel room. The violence was an outlet for him. Edward wasn’t allowing himself an outlet this time. Lucky furniture. Unlucky me.

When I stepped from the bathroom, scrubbed clean, one towel on my head and another wound around my body, I marveled at the sight of the bedroom. It was absolutely perfect in its cleanliness. The bed was made. The rose petals were gone. Our bags were packed, lined up by the door. My suitcase was open, though, and I gasped when Edward was suddenly there beside me, taking my toiletry bag from my hands to put it in my suitcase.

“Do you still want to go?” he asked, back turned to me. His voice was even and very, very quiet.

“Hmmm?” Then I blinked and remembered. “Oh yeah. The trip.”

“The plane boards in a few hours. You still want to go?” he repeated.

“Of course, I do. Why wouldn’t I want to go?”

He didn’t answer. He merely turned to look at me, his lips pressed into a thin, straight line. Perhaps it was my imagination, but he looked paler than normal. Skin like the snow-white flakes of ash that flitted and danced around a fire. His hair was inexplicably dry and styled in all its gravity-defying glory. Had I really lingered in the shower that long?

I sniffed the air, and my stomach pleaded with me as I noticed that there was a silver tray on the bed. Room service. Orange juice and coffee and something that smelled delicious hidden beneath a plate-cover. Bless him. I wanted to devour it all, suddenly ravenous, but I needed to get dressed first.

I reached up to pull the towel from my own wet hair. “You packed my suitcase already, but I still need something to wear.”

He traced a silent path with his eyes to the armchair, and I saw a pair of clothes there waiting for me, neatly folded across the back of the chair. It was probably the shabbiest outfit I owned. The bra and panties were clean and new but hardly something to incite ardor. He’d also chosen my beloved ripped jeans that I couldn’t ever seem to throw away because they fit me in that perfect way that only an ancient pair of jeans could. My dirty tennis shoes, complete with socks, sat on the ground beside the chair. I’d only brought those because he told me I would need walking shoes. Last but not least was my holey, long-sleeved orange t-shirt, another favorite in my wardrobe though admittedly not a thing of beauty. He’d told me once that he didn’t like it, that I was far too pretty to wear something so plain and ragged. But I was sentimental about the shirt, having owned it since middle school. I hung onto it anyway.

It occurred to me that perhaps he’d chosen this particular outfit so that I presented the least amount of temptation to him. I rolled my eyes, no longer caring if I hurt his feelings with my annoyance. Turning my back to him, I let the towel drop, and I tugged on the outfit.

“I thought you hated this shirt.”

His reply was carefully indifferent. “The long sleeves will hide the bruises.”

I turned to stare at him. He made no effort to hide the fact that he was watching me dress, but his mouth was still pressed into that grim line.

“And the tennis shoes?”

“Just put them on, Bella. We need to hurry if we want to make the flight, and you still need to eat your breakfast.”

“Where are we going, anyway?” I asked, pulling the laces tight. “Let me guess. Antarctica? Alaska? Somewhere freezing and dark?”

His eyes lightened. Just a bit. “You’ll find out soon enough.”

***

In the check-in line at the airport, Edward suddenly growled at me. “Smile or something.”

Gripping my passport in my hands – the only thing he’d allowed me to carry – I looked up at him in confusion. He’d barely spoken a word to me since we’d left the hotel. “What’s wrong?”

“People are staring at us. They’re wondering if I was the one who gave you the bruises. That woman behind the counter is thinking of calling security.” He turned to fix his eyes on me, irises golden upon my face. I didn’t know how to interpret the look he gave me. “Maybe I should let her.”

I couldn’t help but peek in the direction he’d indicated. Sure enough, a stubby woman around forty years of age was glaring at us, lips pursed, hands on her hips. I forced a smile onto my face, though I don’t think it met my eyes. “It would be easier to smile if you weren’t so angry with me.”

“You’re angry with me, too.”

“Well, yeah. But just because you’re angry at me.”

His jaw tensed almost imperceptibly. “Bella, you are so utterly absurd. Now come here. Before I’m hauled off by security.”

He slipped an arm around my waist, his fingers light on my skin as he dropped a kiss on my temple. I leaned into him, pleased by his touch despite the argument we’d found ourselves in. I’m sure to the rest of the airport, we were the perfect example of what newlyweds should be. It wasn’t all for show, I realized. No one could see the way he inhaled my scent just behind my ear, lingering so long that the man behind us in line cleared his throat loudly. It was our turn to go to the ticketing counter.

Another woman waited for us there, younger than the other one who still glared at us from her place further down the counter. This woman bore a name tag that read Ashleigh, and her skin was a regrettable shade of scarred red, proof of a long history of acne. Her expression was dull and stupid as she took my passport me. She looked me up and down, comparing me to the terrible picture, then she prickled as she turned her gaze upon Edward.

She didn’t say anything as she checked us in, though she took Edward’s passport into a back room for a few painfully long minutes doing who knows what with it. “Just relax,” Edward whispered to me while we waited. “She’s just being careful.”

When the woman returned, she handed his passport back without a word and printed out our boarding passes.

“Everything okay, Miss?” she asked me when Edward was busy putting our bags one by one on the scale. He tensed but made no indication that he had heard her.

“Yes, thank you.” I smiled at her politely, though I’m sure I only looked like the spaz I knew myself to be.

Somehow we made it through security without another incident arising. They made me take off my shoes, which was terribly annoying because Edward had made me wear shoes that laced instead of something easier to deal with. At least I had socks on, so I didn’t have to walk across the dirty floor where so many other bare feet had touched before mine. Yeesh.

They made Edward go through the metal detector twice. I watched him remove his belt before the second try, eyes fixed on my face with such a look of intensity, I almost dropped my boarding pass from my numb fingers. It was ridiculous how easy he could dazzle me with that look. The slow tugging of his belt out of the loops of his jeans didn’t help my nerve. It was unspeakably sexy.

I chewed on a finger, brow furrowed, flashes of the previous evening coming back to me ... the ice cold flick of his tongue on me, the way his eyes danced at me in that wickedly mischievous way, the sound of his gasp in my ear as he let himself tip over the edge of his control.

I stood there gaping until he joined me. “Well?” he asked.

I blinked up at him, stupid.

“Aren’t you going to put your shoes back on?” he prompted, eyes laughing at me. His expression was softer now as if he’d momentarily forgotten his anger.

“Huh? Oh, yeah.”

I found a chair and dropped into it like a drunk person, eyes still training on him. I fumbled blindly with the laces, fingers shaking and uncoordinated. He knelt before me and left a kiss on my knee through the hole in my jeans before he took over the job.

Something broke between us as he tied my shoes for me. A silent exchange of apologies, of forgiveness. An end to the tension. A quiet declaration of adoration that went deeper than any words could have expressed.

“You delight me, Bella,” he whispered, still kneeling before me.

I stared at him, still dazed. I could be wrong, after all. Maybe words could express the sentiment better than I thought.

He grinned at the look on my face, and I reveled in the sight of it. It was the first time I’d really seen him smile today. I couldn’t help but grin back. “Have you even looked at this?” he asked, holding his boarding pass in front of my face. “I’m surprised at you.”

I squinted at the small text printed on the paper. It bore the word Edinburgh beside the gate number and boarding time. “Somewhere dark and cold. How surprising.” But I was grinning even harder now. I loved it.

“Scotland wasn’t my first choice,” he admitted. “Or my second or third. I wanted to take you directly to the Continent. And I certainly would have chosen first class if I could have or even chartered a private jet.”

I let my eyes ask the questions for me.

“Let’s just say Alice intervened when it came to our flight plans,” he explained. “I had to rebook the tickets several times before she let up.”

“What did she see?”

“The plane crashing into the ocean,” he said quite casually.

“Oh. Thank you. That’s a very comforting thing to say right before we board. Please. Tell me more,” I deadpanned.

He made a face at me. “Don’t worry. She said we’d be safe on this flight. In these particular seats, anyway. I detest flying coach – all those thoughts crowded so close around me – but Alice insisted. I hope you’re not too disappointed.” He looked at my face, which I’m sure bore a horrified expression. “Stop fretting, Bella. As if a simple plane crash could take you away from me. I would protect you if anything happened.”

“It’s not just me I’m worried about. There’s always the other passengers. Did ... did Alice think all the other flights you considered were still going to crash even without us on it?” There was a distinct note of panic in my voice. I couldn’t just let that happen.

“No, they’ll be fine,” he assured me. “Whatever went wrong in her visions, it had to do with us being on the flight.”

My frown deepened, but I didn’t reply. I wasn’t sure what to make of that, but I let it go eventually. If Alice had given the trip her stamp of approval, it must be safe for everyone involved.

“Did I choose well?” he asked. “I thought you might like to see the setting of your favorite Brontë book. We’ll go find some heather for you to dance around in like a ghost and drive me into madness.” He laughed, pleased when I nodded in enthusiasm. “Once you’ve had enough of the UK, we can take the train under the channel to the Continent. We can go anywhere you want from there. France, Spain, Germany, Austria, Switzerland. And if there’s somewhere off the Continent you want to see, I’m sure we can arrange that, too.”

I resisted the urge to squeal, worry clouding my excitement. “Edward, this is way too much.”

“Hush now. I don’t want to hear another word. You’re my wife now, and what’s mine is yours. Let me give you a proper Honeymoon.”

“How long is this trip going to be?”

He flashed me a crooked smile. “I don’t know. It’s a bit more exciting that way, don’t you think?” Then he caught the skeptical look on my face and asked, “What’s wrong? Did you have something else in mind?”

“No, it’s not that. Just ... can we maybe stay away from Italy? I’m not sure I’m ready to revisit that place.” My reasoning remained unspoken, but he knew what I was talking about.

“I was going to insist on staying away from it, actually.”

I smiled and leaned forward to kiss him, something I hadn’t done since our argument in the shower earlier. It was delicious. “Glad we understand one another.”

Our gate was thunderous with activity. We weren’t able to sit down to wait for boarding time. Every seat was full, so we stood, both of us leaning with one shoulder against the wall, facing each other with our eyes locked as the world passed us by. We only had eyes for each other, but I knew somehow that we were being stared at.

The long-sleeved shirt helped to cover my bruises, but a few were still visible on the parts of me that I couldn’t conceal with clothing, the most noticeable being the teeth marks on my neck. If you caught me from the right angle, you could also make out a perfect set of finger-shaped contusions curling up the curve of my shoulder onto my neck. I hadn’t even felt that one when it happened and had been puzzled when I saw it. Anyone that caught sight of them gave Edward a dirty, suspicious look. I don’t know why, though. He touched my face and hands with such exquisite care, eyes following my every move with the sweetest smile on his face, that I don’t know how anyone could have thought he would ever raise a hand to me.

The flight was mostly uneventful. Well, except for the part where we found our seats. We had a pair of seats by the window. They were grouped three across, and there was an obese man that had already claimed the aisle seat beside us, munching noisily on a bag of potato chips. Edward quite calmly leveled such an intimidating look at him that the man quickly found a stewardess and requested another seat. No one came to replace him, and I was pleased as we spread out across the three seats. Edward was certainly handy to have around at times.

There was an elderly woman seated across the aisle from us, and a three-year-old girl seated behind Edward. I smirked as she kicked the back of his chair and wailed in fear as the plane took off. The look on Edward’s face was priceless. “How long is this flight again?” I asked.

“Too long,” he whispered in reply.

We rose above the rain clouds, and I watched him close the window shade against the sunlight and sink down in his seat into the shadows. Though we’d barely begun the flight, he reached for my lap and unfastened my seatbelt. Before I could protest, he said, “Don’t worry, love. You don’t need it when I’ve got my arms around you.”

Hours passed, and I slept a little at his urging. I needed it, still feeling a bit as though I had a hangover. Edward woke me once and made me eat something that tasted like chicken but most assuredly wasn’t chicken. Disturbed, I fell back asleep as soon as he was satisfied that I’d eaten enough. When I woke again, I was surprised to see the final of the three movies they were going to show on the flight was already in its final scenes. We had less than half an hour before the flight was expected to land. I rubbed my eyes and reached for the water bottle Edward had bought me in the terminal.

He was awake of course, thumbing through the complimentary magazine that offered various contraptions that no one would ever really need. Like self-cleaning golf clubs and fog-free mirrors that read your horoscope to you in the shower. He seemed fascinated by it, but he set it down when he saw that I was waking up. “Sleep well?” he asked, brushing the tip of his finger across my nose.

“I dreamed the plane crashed,” I admitted after downing half the bottle of water.

“I know. I tried to wake you, but you bit me.”

I grimaced. So that was why my teeth hurt. “I was talking in my sleep?”

“A little.” A slow smile spread across his face, eyes smoldering under his thick lashes. “Not all of your dreams were bad, though.”

“Oh?” I asked, pretending I didn’t know what he was talking about. I had dreamed about Edward and me passionately intertwined in the airplane bathroom, doing things that could were considered a federal crime. My cheeks stained red at the memory of it.

“Why don’t you tell me about your dream?” he asked in a way that assured me he already knew the essentials of it. “Surely you remember it.”

A light bulb flashed over my head as I considered something. “Edward?”

“What is it, precious?” he answered, still grinning at me.

I turned to look at him, a brazen look alight on my face. It wasn’t like me to be this bold, but I was starting to like this new sense of reckless freedom. “Have you ever heard of the Mile-High Club?”

The look on his face as he stared back at me ... I wish I knew how to describe it better. A look of panic, intrigue, fury, and lust, all there in one pathetically adorable expression. He knew very well what I was referring to, and it wasn’t a frequent flyer program.

“Bella. ” It was a warning.

But I had already slipped a hand underneath the blanket that covered both of our laps. I took hold of him, through the tight fabric of his jeans, and it surprised me when I discovered that he was already hard. How much had I said exactly when I was asleep, to get him this worked up?

He eased a glare at me, but otherwise looked quite calm as he said, “If you’d like me to rip a hole in the side of the plane, by all means, please continue.”

“Don’t be ridiculous.” I found his zipper and tugged at it, surprised when he didn’t stop me. His resolve seemed unexpectedly weak at that moment. “Now’s a good time to practice your control,” I explained, an impious little smile on my face. “It’s just like when you learned to control yourself when we first met. It’s not so different. You just had to get desensitized to me.”

“Trust me. It’s different.” Then he breathed a curse and gripped the armrest. I had him in my hand for real now and marveled at the feel of him, the first time I’d ever touched him there. He was so soft and smooth there while being impossibly hard at the same time. Like a stone made of velvety soft rose petals.

“This is dangerous,” he hissed. “This is stupid.”

But he still didn’t stop me. He was too far gone, I think. “Think of all the people in the plane,” I whispered in his ear. “You wouldn’t want to hurt them would you? You wouldn’t want to hurt me? Just relax and enjoy it.”

Sitting on top of a bag at our feet, Edward’s cell phone started vibrating. It distracted me from my task for a second, and I wondered if we were going to get in trouble for not turning it off. I could see it the phone number, the name flashing at me in cold, digital letters: ALICE.

She was probably checking to see if we’d landed yet. I could see from the map displayed on the screen that we were only ten minutes away from our destination. We’d be able to call her to check in soon enough. So I went back to what I was doing. Namely, Edward.

I smirked at his lost expression, head tossed to the side, jaw tense, throat exposed. “Bella,” he rasped. “I’m going to kill you when we land.”

“Mmm-hmm,” I murmured in his ear, not knowing where I had found this strange courage. “What else are you going to do to me?”

He cursed again, long and deliberate under his breath.

Oh, this was very fun. Gratifying in a way I hadn’t expected. I was so used to him being able to render me senseless with his dazzling stare and searing kisses. It was about time that I figured out a way to floor him.

The elderly woman across the aisle turned to blink curiously at us. Edward was, after all, struggling not to squirm in his seat, but his important parts were still hidden beneath the blanket. His teeth were clenched, his whole body strumming with tension. I waved at the woman with my sweetest smile, pretending to rub his stomach with my other hand. “He’s just a little airsick,” I explained.

“Try sipping some ginger ale, dear,” she said in a kindly brogue, passing Edward one of those paper bags that airlines provide in case a passenger became nauseated. “It’ll clear right up.”

“Thank you, ma’am,” he managed, voice cracking like a preteen. It amazed me that he was still capable of perfect politeness, even at that moment. He gripped at the arm rests helplessly.

Edward’s cell phone started vibrating again. I glanced at it, biting my lip. The same name blinked over and over:

ALICE, ALICE, ALICE...

But I forgot all about her as Edward started to become unhinged. He stifled a shudder, then strained against a wave of pleasure. I felt something wet on my fingers. His feet dug into the ground, his elbows into the arm rest.

There was a crack of plastic. A twist of metal. Then a deafening rush of air.

We stared at each other in shock and guilt as the oxygen masks dropped from the ceiling. The plane jolted violently, and screams sounded from all around us.

“Bella...” Edward growled, teeth flashing.

I smiled sheepishly at him, panic alight in my eyes. “Oops?”