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 with him endlessly, but 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 and wage an all-out offense.

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 the more provocative underwear Alice had packed for me to sleep in at night—which were almost as revealing as the scanty speedos 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 the brightly colored options, 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, mostly mesh, but damn it was pretty sexy.

I slid the revealing garment on and prepared myself for my plan of attack.

I felt a sharp pinch on the back of my neck, my hand instinctively slapped the spot. When I pulled my hand back to examine it, I found the squished remains of some bug I couldn't identify. I washed my hand in the sink and splashed some water over the back of my neck where the bug had bit me.

That was when I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror. Any hesitation I had about the mesh underwear was gone; if these things didn't work, nothing would.

Feeling confidently armed, I strolled out to the bedroom.

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, slowly turning so that he could see every angle.

He cleared his throat. "You look amazing. 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.

He was wearing a shirt to bed tonight—as he did most nights now—to deter my advances. I carefully executed my plan.

"Edward?"

"Yes, love?"

"I'm sorry, but, it's really hot," I pouted, "would you mind terribly taking off your shirt tonight? It'd help keep me cool. Your chest I mean. Because, you know, it's… uh, so cold." I was stumbling a little now. Evidently seduction was not one of my stronger skills.

He didn't move for a moment, then he shifted, pulled the shirt off, tossing it to the side. He put his arms back around me, but this time I turned my body to face away from him.

"You really like them?" I asked, innocently, curving my body into his, trying to show off the skimpy underwear.

"Mhm." He answered shortly.

"Really?" I asked again, shifting my body slightly, making sure I was gently pushing up against him.

"Why are you doing this to me?" he said through his teeth, his tone suddenly full of despair and frustration. "Isn't it hard enough without all of this?" He grabbed a handful of the mesh on my thigh. For a moment, I thought he was going to rip it. Then his hand relaxed. "Beau, we can't."

"Edward, please."

"No, Beau. There is absolutely nothing that is worth risking your life again. That's worth hurting you."

"But, Edward—"

"No, Beau. I can't do that to you again."

"There were some things you did besides bruising me that I would really like for you to do again." I grumbled, feeling defeated.

"I'm sorry, Beau."

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, Beau. 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 didn't want to tell him about me being a vampire in my recurring nightmare; I knew it was his own worst nightmare. 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 any time soon. Alice has been watching their decisions. You have nothing to worry about."

"I guess." I sighed.

He saw the emotions 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, Beau," he promised me.

"I think that might be forever."

He chuckled softly. 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.

"Beau?" Edward whispered, his arms tight around me, shaking me gently. "Are you all right, love?"

"Oh," I gasped again. Just a dream. Not real. I sat up in bed, and I felt my frustration brimming over. "God, this sucks."

"Beau!" he said—louder, slightly alarmed now. "What's wrong?" He sat up next to me, rubbing my back.

"It was only a dream." My voice sounded so devastated it was almost comical, but at this point I was just so frustrated—in more ways than one—that I couldn't help myself. I wanted so badly for the dream to be real.

"It's okay, love, you're fine. I'm here." He continued rubbing my back. "Did you have another nightmare?"

"Not a nightmare." I shook my head, exhaling sharply. "It was a good dream."

"Then why are you upset?" he asked, bewildered.

"Because I woke up," I huffed.

He laughed once at my logic, but the sound was tense with concern. "Everything's all right, Beau. Go back to sleep."

"It was so real," I groaned. "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 at his anxious face, dim in the darkness. I stared at him broodingly as the unreasonable grief began to ebb.

"And?" he finally prompted.

I hesitated. "Well…"

"Tell me, Beau," he pleaded.

But I couldn't. Instead I wrapped my arms around his neck again and locked my mouth with his feverishly. It wasn't just desire—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, Beau," he insisted, looking at me as if he was worried that I'd lost my mind.

My arms dropped, defeated, and I threw myself back against the bed.

He stared at me with confused, anguished eyes.

"I'm sorry," I mumbled.

But he pulled me to him then, hugging me tightly to his marble chest. "I can't, Beau, I can't!" His moan was agonized.

"Please," I said, my plea muffled against his skin as I planted kisses on his neck and chest. "Please, Edward?"

I couldn't tell if he was moved by my words, or if he was unprepared to deal with the urgency I was now kissing his neck with, 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.

And we began where my dream had left off.

I stayed very still when I woke up in the morning and tried to keep my breathing even. I was afraid to open my eyes.

I was lying across Edward's chest, but he was very still and his arms were not wrapped around me. That was a bad sign. I was afraid to admit I was awake and face his anger— no matter whom it was directed at today.

Carefully, I peeked through my eyelashes. He was staring up at the dark ceiling, his arms behind his head. I pulled myself up on my elbow so that I could see his face better. It was smooth, expressionless.

"How much trouble am I in?" I asked in a small voice.

"Heaps," he said, but turned his head and smirked at me.

I breathed a sigh of relief. "I am sorry," I said. "I didn't mean to get so desperate last night." I shook my head at how I had practically thrown myself at him.

"You never did tell me what your dream was about."

"I guess I didn't—but I sort of showedyou what it was about." I laughed nervously.

"Oh," he said. His eyes widened, and then he blinked. "Interesting."

"It was a very good dream," I murmured. He didn't comment, so a few seconds later I asked, "Am I forgiven?"

"I'm thinking about it."

I sat up, planning to examine myself—there didn't seem to be any feathers, at least. But as I moved, an odd wave of vertigo hit. I swayed and fell back against the pillows.

"Whoa... head rush."

His arms were around me then. "You slept for a long time. Twelve hours."

"Twelve?"How strange.

I gave myself a quick once-over while I spoke, trying to be inconspicuous about it. I looked fine. The bruises on my arms were still a week old, yellowing. I stretched experimentally. I felt fine, too. Well, better than fine, actually.

"Is the inventory complete?"

I nodded sheepishly. "The pillows all appear to have survived."

"Unfortunately, I can't say the same for your, er, undergarments." He nodded toward the foot of the bed, where several scraps of black mesh were strewn across the silk sheets.

"That's too bad," I said. "I liked that one."

"I did, too."

"Were there any other casualties?" I asked timidly.

"I'll have to buy Esme a new bed frame," he confessed, glancing over his shoulder. I followed his gaze and was shocked to see that large chunks of wood had apparently been gouged from the left side of the headboard.

"Hmm." I frowned. "You'd think I would have heard that."

"You seem to be extraordinarily unobservant when your attention is otherwise involved."

"I was a bit absorbed," I admitted, blushing a deep red.

He touched my burning cheek and sighed. "I do enjoy that."

I stared at his face, searching for any signs of the anger or remorse I feared. He gazed back at me evenly, his expression calm but otherwise unreadable.

"How are youfeeling?"

He laughed.

"What?" I demanded.

"You look so guilty—like you've committed a crime."

"I feelguilty," I muttered.

"So you seduced your all-too-willing husband. That's not a capital offense."

He seemed to be teasing.

My cheeks got hotter. "The word seduced implies a certain amount of premeditation."

He glanced meaningfully at the scraps of mesh. I giggled nervously.

"You're not angry?"

He smiled ruefully. "I'm not angry."

"Why not?"

"Well.." He paused. "I didn't hurt you, for one thing. It was easier this time, to control myself, to channel the excesses." His eyes flickered to the damaged frame again. "Maybe because I had a better idea of what to expect."

A hopeful smile started to spread across my face. "I told you that it was all about practice."

He rolled his eyes.

My stomach growled, and he laughed. "Breakfast time for the human?" he asked.

"Please," I said, hopping out of bed. I moved too quickly, though, and had to stagger drunkenly to regain my balance. He caught me before I could stumble into the dresser.

"Are you all right?"

"If I ever do change, I hope I have a better sense of equilibrium in my next life, or I'm demanding a refund."

I cooked this morning, frying up some eggs—too hungry to do anything more elaborate. Impatient, I flipped them onto a plate after just a few minutes.

"Since when do you eat eggs sunny-side up?" he asked.

"Since now."

"Do you know how much food you've gone through in the last week?" He pulled the trash bin out from under the sink as evidence.

"Weird," I said after swallowing a scorching bite. "This place is messing with my appetite." And my dreams, and my already dubious balance. "But I think that has more to do with all the excursions you've been dragging me on. I'm going to get fat from eating so much."

He sat down next to me. "Isn't that part of being human and getting married?" he teased.

I snorted. "Very funny, Edward. If I leave this honeymoon twenty pounds heavier, it'll be your fault."

"What do you mean?" He asked innocently.

"I don't spend my free time plotting like some people do. What can we do to wear Beau out today?" I said in a poor impression of his voice. He laughed, unashamed. "You know, if this is what being human entails, I think I may never think about changing ever again." I leaned over to run my hand across his bare chest. "I have not had enough."

He gave me a dubious look. "For this?" he asked, placing his hand over mine as it moved down his stomach. "Sex was the key all along?" He rolled his eyes. "Why didn't I think of that?" he muttered sarcastically. "I could have saved myself a lot of worry."

I laughed. "Yeah, probably."

"You are sohuman," he said again.

"I know."

A hint of a smile pulled at his lips. "So, after the honeymoon, are we really going to Dartmouth?"

I hadn't thought about our after-honeymoon plans since the wedding, but I considered it for a moment and smiled. "I'll probably fail out in one semester."

"I'll tutor you." The smile was wide now. "You're going to love college."

"Actually," I began thoughtfully, "I know you had your heart set on Dartmouth, but would it be too late for me to try to get into some sort of cooking school?"

"Cooking?" He smiled.

"Well, I mean, you know I like cooking," I shrugged, "and I think I'm pretty good at it. I was just thinking, if I was going to go to college why shouldn't it be for something I really enjoy?"

"I think that's an excellent idea, Beau." He smiled. "We can look into it after we leave."

"Speaking of, how much longer can we stay?" I asked.

"We're fine on time. A few more weeks, if you want. And then we can visit Charlie before we go the semester starts. We could spend Christmas with Renée…"

His words painted a very happy immediate future, one free of pain for everyone involved. The Jacob-drawer, all but forgotten, rattled, and I amended the thought—for almosteveryone.

I didn't want to think about that now, though. But was that selfish of me? There would always be a part of my heart—a fractured piece—that would hurt for Jacob Black. Even if I couldn't love him the way he wanted me to, I would always love him as my best friend. I had no plans to end my humanity anytime soon, Edward and I were making the whole married thing work verywell… Maybe Jacob would come around… someday.

"A few weeks," I agreed. And then, because there never seemed to be enough time, I added, "So I was thinking—you know what I was saying about practice before?"

He laughed. "Can you hold on to that thought? I hear a boat. The cleaning crew must be here."

He wanted me to hold on to that thought. Did that mean he wasn't going to give me any more trouble about practicing? I smiled.

"Let me explain the mess in the white room to Gustavo, and then we can go out. There's a place in the jungle on the south—"

"I don't want to go out. I am not hiking all over the island today. I want to stay here and watch a movie."

He pursed his lips, trying not to laugh at my disgruntled tone. "All right, whatever you'd like. Why don't you pick one out while I get the door?"

"I didn't hear a knock."

He cocked his head to the side, listening. A half second later, a faint, timid rap on the door sounded. He grinned and turned for the hallway.

I wandered over to the shelves under the big TV and started scanning through the titles. It was hard to decide where to begin. They had more movies than a rental store.

I could hear Edward's low, velvet voice as he came back down the hall, conversing fluidly in what I assumed was perfect Portuguese. Another, harsher, human voice answered in the same tongue.

Edward led them into the room, pointing toward the kitchen on his way. One was a round man, the other a slight female, both their faces creased with lines. Edward gestured to me with a proud smile, and I heard my name mixed in with a flurry of unfamiliar words. I flushed a little as I thought of the downy mess in the white room, which they would soon encounter. The little man smiled at me politely.

But the tiny coffee-skinned woman didn't smile. She stared at me with a mixture of shock, worry, and most of all, wide-eyed fear. Before I could react, Edward motioned for them to follow him toward the chicken coop, and they were gone.

When he reappeared, he was alone. He walked swiftly to my side and wrapped his arms around me.

"What's with her?" I whispered urgently, remembering her panicked expression.

He shrugged, unperturbed. "Kaure's part Ticuna Indian. She was raised to be more superstitious—or you could call it more aware—than those who live in the modern world. She suspects what I am, or close enough." He still didn't sound worried. "They have their own legends here. The Libishomen—a blood-drinking demon who preys exclusively on beautiful humans." He leered at me.

Beautiful humans only? Well, that was kind of flattering. "She looked terrified," I said.

"She is—but mostly she's worried about you."

"Me?"

"She's afraid of why I have you here, all alone." He chuckled darkly and then looked toward the wall of movies. "Oh well, why don't you choose something for us to watch? That's an acceptably human thing to do."

"Yes, I'm sure a movie will convince her that you're human." I laughed and clasped my arms securely around his neck, stretching up on my tiptoes. He leaned down so that I could kiss him, and then his arms tightened around me, lifting me off the floor so he didn't have to bend.

"Movie, schmovie," I muttered as his lips moved down my throat, twisting my fingers in his bronze hair.

Then I heard a gasp, and he put me down abruptly. Kaure stood frozen in the hallway, feathers in her black hair, a large sack of more feathers in her arms, an expression of horror on her face. She stared at me, her eyes bugging out, as I blushed and looked down. Then she recovered herself and murmured something that, even in an unfamiliar language, was clearly an apology. Edward smiled and answered in a friendly tone. She turned her dark eyes away and continued down the hall.

"She was thinking what I think she was thinking, wasn't she?" I muttered.

He laughed at my convoluted sentence. "Yes."

"Here," I said, reaching out at random and grabbing a movie. "Put this on and we can pretend to watch it."

It was an old musical with smiling faces and fluffy dresses on the front.

"Very honeymoonish," Edward approved.

While actors on the screen danced their way through a perky introduction song, I lolled on the sofa, snuggled into Edward's arms.

"Will we move back into the white room now?" I wondered idly.

"I don't know... I've already mangled the headboard in the other room beyond repair—maybe if we limit the destruction to one area of the house, Esme might invite us back someday."

I smiled widely. "So there will be more destruction?"

He laughed at my expression. "I think it might be safer if it's premeditated, rather than if I wait for you to assault me again."

"It would only be a matter of time," I agreed casually, but my pulse was racing in my veins.

"Is there something the matter with your heart?"

"Nope. Healthy as a horse." I paused. "Did you want to go survey the demolition zone now?"

"Maybe it would be more polite to wait until we're alone. You may not notice me tearing the furniture apart, but it would probably scare them."

In truth, I'd already forgotten the people in the other room. "Right. Damn."

Gustavo and Kaure moved quietly through the house while I waited impatiently for them to finish and tried to pay attention to the happily-ever-after on the screen. I was starting to get sleepy—though, according to Edward, I'd slept half the day—when a rough voice startled me. Edward sat up, keeping me cradled against him, and answered Gustavo in flowing Portuguese. Gustavo nodded and walked quietly toward the front door.

"They're finished," Edward told me.

"So that would mean that we're alone now?"

"How about lunch first?" he suggested.

I bit my lip, torn by the dilemma. I was pretty hungry.

With a smile, he took my hand and led me to the kitchen. He knew my face so well, it didn't matter that he couldn't read my mind.

"This is getting out of hand," I complained when I finally felt full.

"Do you want to swim with the dolphins this afternoon—burn off the calories?" he asked.

"Maybe later. I had another idea for burning calories."

"And what was that?"

"Well, there's an awful lot of headboard left—"

But I didn't finish. He'd already swept me up into his arms, and his lips silenced mine as he carried me with inhuman speed to the blue room.