AN: Hey this story is a real-eyesore. It was my first attempt at writing fanfiction and it shows. It's too long and meandering and full of run on sentences. Seriously, it's painful to read. So please go to my profile and read the newer version.

If you've decided to proceed anyway, here's what you should know: This story, like all of my M-rated stories will be following FFnet guidelines-meaning that it's 16+ and won't be containing any explicit content. However, there will be some suggestive themes, violence, character death and possibly morally disturbing ideas discussed, so be warned.

Preface

I was not the sort of person to boast about having a ton of interesting personality traits. In fact, I would normally conclude that I was a pretty boring person—average looking, average intelligence, average teen with family problems and boy troubles. But if I were to name one thing about me that was unique—aside from my legendary clumsiness, of course—I would say it was my curiosity.

Especially in regards to things I would probably be better off living without knowing.

From a young age I was an inquisitive one, always searching out the uncomfortable hidden truths about life and human nature, and facing them head on. It wasn't that I ever voiced these questions aloud—I somehow knew deep within me that if I spoke, no one would understand. That I'd be a freak if I asked my first grade teacher what was wrong in her marriage that compelled her to be so commanding, or ask the pale, scrawny kid in sixth grade who jittered violently in his seat, his face alight with terror, whether it was from vivid relapses of actual events, or simply traumatic nightmares. I knew that, although the evidence to me seemed overwhelming if you looked hard enough, I was sworn to silence by an unwritten pact that humanity hade made with itself. Don't poke your head into places where it doesn't belong, it said. It's not your business it warned. There's a perfectly rational explanation for everything, so don't worry… you don't need to know everything it assured.

Of course, being the reckless person that I was, I had always refused to listen to that sort of conventional wisdom. Even if I didn't "need" to know everything when strange situations arose… what happened if I wanted to? I thought. And so whenever I was confronted with something strange (which, thanks to my unbelievable danger-magnet was quite a lot) I would tirelessly explore every avenue. My mind refused to rest until I was satisfied that I knew the whole story.

Which of course, is why I got into my current predicament—that is, my curiosity led me to discover the existence of, and fall inescapably in love with a vampire. Curiosity like mine had a way of attracting the strangest things, and also made me fiercely unwilling to dismiss oddities like ice cold skin, super-speed and recurrent disappearances on sunny days as any kind of "normal." I also was fiercely dedicated to the truth, so I wasn't about to invent a wacky, pseudo-logical, but ultimately mundane explanation like a disease or drug instead of facing the terrifying reality. Even when it was probably better for me to remain in the dark: safer, saner, and not completely shattering to my previous perceptions about reality, I would accept nothing less than the honest-to-God facts, no matter how stomach-churningly disturbing, bedsheet-grippingly terrifying, or mentally destroying they were.

That was the depth of my desire to know.

That was why I was currently the girlfriend of a troubled, animal-drinking bloodsucker.

Certainly Edward's own curiosity about my imperviousness to his mind-reading powers, and my weirdly delicious-smelling blood had also been partially responsible for bringing us together. But I also knew that if I hadn't vigilantly sought out the explanation behind his abnormal behavior, I probably would have been pushed away from his world. And not because I was a foolishly smitten high-school girl obviously unworthy of his affections.

But because pushing me away was the safest thing to do. And it wasn't just the safest option for me, the vulnerable human, but also for his entire family. My knowledge of vampires could get them all killed.

Yes, you heard that right—killed. Apparently there was a mysterious and presumably incredibly powerful coven of vampires called the Volturi who basically ruled the mythical world who would take issue with my knowing and have the Cullens destroyed for exposing the truth. Telling me of the existence of vampires violated one of the Volturi's highest laws, the supernatural "prime directive" if you will.

And yet, at my insistence, they'd risked everything and told me anyway.

As soon as I learned this, I became incurably worried for the Cullen's safety and wished that Edward had let me know of the danger my knowing could bring upon him and the other's sooner. He repeatedly tried to console me, reminding me over and over again that as long as I did not spread the word, the Volturi would likely never know that I knew more than I should (they were not omniscient, after all), and no one would be harmed.

Still, I agonized for several weeks over the idea that my knowledge threatened the peaceful existence that the Cullens so evidently enjoyed. Even if the chance of the Volturi finding out was extremely slim, I felt terrible. There was no way for me to go back to oblivion, and that meant that as long as I was still human, the "vegetarian" vampires I had come to know and love could be in jeopardy. I mean, who knew when these guys might cross paths with us? Everything we had could come crumbling down in an instant.

Or so I had initially feared. But everyone else, for some unknown reason, was extremely sure that the Volturi wouldn't come.

And Edward wouldn't tell me why.

Which brings me back to the "predicament" part of my relationship with Edward.

You see, after I'd used my deductive reasoning, a push in the right direction from a childhood friend and a little internet research to discover what Edward was, everything had gone at such a clipped pace. My curiosity had of course demanded that I ask all sorts of questions about his nature at first, but while he'd been rather liberal with his outpouring of physical affection, he'd been rather stingy with his answers to vampire-related questions. For a while I had continued to search out the truth on my own, undeterred by his silence, and delighted to be falling in love so quickly and passionately. But I was only now beginning to realize after over eight months of knowing him, that somewhere in my analysis of Edward and his kind I had stopped short.

Instead of scouring every source of information available until I understood the full weight and magnitude of what I was getting myself into, as I usually did when presented with something new and potentially hazardous, I had only indulged my curiosity until I knew what I thought was "enough." And then for some unimaginable reason, I had ceased searching altogether.

It unnerved me, because it was totally out of character to stop mid-investigation like that. And today as I lied helplessly in a meadow beside an undead creature of the night, I was beginning to suspect some sort of foul-play. Initially, I tried to shake off the deep suspicions and doubts bubbling up in my hyperactive mind as totally irrational fears. But as I watched a narrow patch of sunlight throw prisms of rainbow light off of Edward's flawless alabaster face, it struck me that during all this time I had barely known anything about vampires—let alone dared to really confront the darker possibilities.

I knew their basic identifying characteristics: strong, fast, beautiful, bloodless, ice-cold, heightened senses, lacking a heartbeat, didn't need to breathe, and sparkled like a diamond in the sunlight.

I knew a few facts about what blood did to their physiology: without it—eyes turn black, less physical strength, less control around blood, especially that of humans, with it—eyes turn red, if diet consists of human blood; gold if diet consists of animal blood. Human blood said to be much tastier than animal blood, and some human blood is especially tasty.

And I knew that some of them had special powers: telepathy, clairvoyance, mood-manipulation, and that many of them didn't—but I had no knowledge as to their origin, and if any two vampires could have the same powers or not.

And honestly, that wasn't even enough material to write a stupid five-paragraph essay! Why on earth had I been so naïve, and was simply content with my paltry knowledge for so long? I thought frantically. Was it perhaps the thrill of first love that allowed me to be satisfied with my ignorance? Had I really spent so much time admiring his extreme gorgeousness that I simply forgot to make any progress in the important task of unravelling the mystery of his vampire nature?

But ultimately that justification seemed inadequate—I might have been (and still was) somewhat blinded by my head-over-heels falling for Edward, but I could not fathom how my love for him alone could disrupt my natural inquisitive processes. Perturbed by my findings thus far, I turned my gaze from my boyfrined's ruffled, coppery hair towards the mostly grey sky, which was riddled with a few holes here and there letting in sparse shafts of light and chewed on my lip in concentration.

Certainly his exquisite good looks were thoroughly distracting, but while my mind meticulously sifted through my memories of our short time together, it rapidly became clear that this went much further than that. Not only had I halted in my perusal of further knowledge regarding those who had left the mortal coil, but every time that Edward had tried to remind me of the downsides of his existence, I had silenced both him and my own interest in entertaining the possibility of him being exactly what he claimed—a monster. And although the prospect that his description might be correct was a frightening one—especially now, when our relationship had grown so deep—wasn't it best to consider every likely scenario?

Or was it better to be in the dark? I wondered. "Ignorance is bliss" had never been my motto before….

At first, I thought that I had silenced these questions because they didn't need to be asked—Edward would never allow himself to become the soulless murderer he so obviously feared—it simply wasn't possible. I had been entirely convinced that the laws of physics wouldn't allow it, and thus it would be horribly wrong to entertain thoughts of him being a potential threat. That would be a grave insult to him and his overwhelmingly good nature.

But now I wasn't so sure. His warnings were starting to come back to me… Everything about me is designed to drawn you in, to make you feel safe…. Could it be that that was precisely what had been going on? At this point, I was fairly well assured that Edward's goal wasn't to eat me, but I was shaken nonetheless by notion that I'd been lulled so quickly into a blind-faith in Edward's strength of character. Was it all part of his "charm"… if it could be called that? Or was I partially to blame for my own hasty acceptance of such an easy feeling of security? Was there a part of me so attached to the idea of being Edward's girlfriend, being able to belong to such a beautiful, powerful, immortal being, that it would throw life-saving caution to the wind?

I frowned at this last thought. I'd never been one for caution—which of course got me into all sorts of trouble—but nothing I'd ever been faced with was truly a significant danger to my life. Scratches, bruises and even broken bones were hardly new to me, so I'd developed a sort of apathy towards danger that didn't appear serious enough to end my existence.

But was this relationship between myself and possibly the one creature on earth who had the strongest desire for my blood, really just another manifestation of my extreme lack of self-preservation, or was it more than that? Was it… that the perks of this relationship were so enticing, that I didn't want to even begin to consider the possibility that it might be better for me to butt out? Or was there really something more going on here?

I had told him I didn't care if he felt like I was his heroin, but honestly… I hadn't really understood what he meant… let alone believed it. The depth of thirst he was describing to me was simply unfathomable. I had never experienced anything remotely like that, so I had figured he was being a typical melodramatic teenager and exaggerating his agony. Or simply exaggerating in order to frighten away an undesirable date—because let's face it, I was revolting compared to Edward.

Honestly, how hard could it be to resist my blood? I had thought. While I was sheltered enough to have never experienced any sort of pervasive drug-addiction, in my short life I'd resisted all sorts of delicious-looking treats with little effort—which was basically the same thing, right?

Sheesh, what a drama queen.

Finally though, as I frightfully sunbathed in our favorite meadow, and observed my aloof, immortal boyfriend for a few weeks afterwards, I allowed myself to wonder in great depth—not to simply cater to a surface curiosity, but to launch a profound inquisition—about the enigma that was Edward Cullen.

I wondered about the feral side of him—the side I'd always denied existed, or insisted was heavily outweighed by the recovering-from-a-mild-drug-addict/saint I pictured him to be, and whether there was any part of him which truly reveled in violence, or if he was truly as disgusted by human death as he had once implied. Knowing of his apparent struggles against his ferocious appetite sometimes, I wondered whether there was a certain amount of sadism inherent in all vampires, or if some were somehow immune to that characteristic. I also wondered about his gift, his telepathy, if he'd ever used it to aid him in during the time that he left Carlisle and fed on humans, and if it was really true what he'd said—that he'd only fed on criminals during that time, or if he'd been at any time unable to resist the call of innocent mortal blood.

And finally I wondered about the taste and smell of blood from a vampire's perspective, specifically my blood, and what it was to Edward.

At first, there was no significant change in my life from wallowing in these dark thoughts—only a lot more sleepless nights, surreptitious google searches, and crabby behavior on my part. But as I delved deeper, not only into the legends and stories about vampires, but into my own hands-on study of Edward, I began to notice things, about his body language—especially the repressed emotions lurking in his eyes—that had always been there when I was in his presence which until now I had either simply never noticed, been brainwashed into forgetting, or pointedly chosen to ignore.

While my mind struggled to come to terms with the ramifications of what I had learned during this clandestine investigation, Edward and I were occupying our favorite grassy hideout. As I tried to puzzle out what it really meant to be a vampire, I felt an icy hand curl softly around my wrist, drawing my attention back to the present. Unthinkingly, my eyes turned in response to his cool touch and met with Edward's. On the surface they appeared rich and golden like honey, but beneath that comforting veneer, they seem to be suffused with suppressed darkness, like storm clouds lurking within the safeness and comfort of a gilded cage.

I swallowed dryly as I recognized the burning hunger behind those eyes. Do I really promise to be so delicious that you would have seriously contemplated multiple murders just for a taste? I wondered frightfully.

Edward's melodic voice broke the heavy silence. "It's times like these when I wish more than anything that I could read your thoughts."

I swallowed again—that was not what I wanted to hear, especially now, when I understood with much greater clarity the magnitude of danger I was really in around him. In addition to my rather healthy appreciation of my mind's privacy, for some reason, his request had sounded more creepy than endearing, as I'm sure I would have insisted it was a few weeks ago, and I cringed as I realized that the thought of the owner of that unsettling, purring voice poking around in my brain was about as enticing as the idea of bathing in a bucket of rusty nails. Not to mention that recent findings had caused my paranoia that he might abuse whatever information he could squeeze out of me to skyrocket to ridiculous levels.

"Um… yeah, well… I wasn't really thinking of anything interesting…" I quickly lied, forcing away the noxious guilt I felt by doing so, since Edward had only demonstrated a genuine desire to protect my well-being since the beginning of our relationship. A few dubiously reliable facts about the true intensity of Edward's bloodthirst and the lengths other vampires had gone to fabricate the prefect scenario to feed on someone with blood as delicious as mine should not totally shatter my good faith in him.

Edward continued, thankfully oblivious to my internal turmoil. "Everything about you is interesting, Bella," he paused to sigh, his purplish eyelids fluttering closed for a brief second. "I'm sure your thoughts would be just as fascinating as the rest of you." He trailed off with a contented smile, released my arm from his arctic grip and gazed into my eyes with an ardent intensity.

Normally I would have blushed at such a ridiculous statement, but instead I found myself returning to my previous thoughts and nervously rubbing my wrist where he'd unceremoniously touched it moments before. I was trying to remain calm… but instead I found my heart beating erratically out of control. I was certain he could hear it, and could only hope that he mistook it for butterflies in my stomach instead of this awful dread that had begun to settle over me. I hated that my added knowledge of his nature necessitated so much deceit in our relationship, but I repeatedly assured myself that this was simply a rough phase—we'd get through this, just like everything else we'd been through together.

I couldn't let him in on my recent fears about his desire to consume me, because that would destroy everything we had built through the past months, and I was fairly certain I still loved him.

Probably.

So my only option was to pretend like I was still hopelessly naïve about everything Edward, and wait until I re-acclimated to his presence now that I better understood the risks. And I would readjust—I was sure of it.

I had to—because I needed him.

But it definitely wasn't going to be easy.

Whenever he was around me now, I could see with startling clarity a heated war waging within him. His whole body would tense into rigid lines and angles, fists clenching and veins protruding so visibly from the tension, I swear they should have popped right out of his forehead and arms. His eyes would bore into my soul—cold, penetrating, and he would try to look everywhere else but my neck and any other exposed arteries. His lips, would shut tightly and nose looked ever so slightly pinched as he refused to breathe, lest he be tempted by the slightest trace.

He could no longer convincingly deny it. Even though he swore that he has absolutely no issue resisting the call of my blood after having tasted it, his body language during our last few encounters at least seemed to convey the exact opposite: that ignoring the potent allure had only grown more difficult once he knew precisely how delicious the reward was for giving in.

Thinking back on his apparent increase in interest in making me his meal, I shivered now, as Edward circled his arms around me gently and drew me into a frigid embrace. He parted his lips slowly and I let out a shaky gasp as he pressed them languidly to my collarbone, a cold sweat breaking out over my body as I worried for his control now that he could inhale. If he were to ever ask about my strange reaction to his touch, I would blame it on the cold—that he's so cold. And thanks to the fact that he couldn't read my mind, and his own self-consciousness about his glacial body temperature, he would completely believe it. But that wasn't the truth.

As his fingers curled possessively in my hair and around my waist, I closed my eyes and said a quick prayer to whoever might be listening that I could survive this. If I were smart, especially knowing what I now knew, I would run away and never look back. If I were smart, I would tell him that I wanted to call our relationship off and avoid any close physical contact with him. If I were smart, I would not be laying in this field being smothered in cool buttery kisses by a vampire who very much desired to bite into my throat and drain me dry.

But that was exactly the issue. Though inquisitive, I was most definitely not smart. I had allowed myself to become entrapped, lulled into an inescapable cage of affection by his charm, beauty and gentle words. I'd been caught in the silky web of hot kisses, lavish gifts and sweet nothings, rolled up in a cocoon of comfort and set aside indefinitely for a later date… either to be consumed, or transformed—or simply to remain trapped here as a human for the rest of my mortal life, if Edward ended up getting his way. I was in a great deal of danger, submitting myself to his delicate ministrations. One stray thorn in the grass to prick my skin and it could all be over.

But that wasn't even the scariest part. The scariest part was that, despite this gut-wrenching terror I felt every time he touched me now, I knew I could never leave him. Because I still loved him, of course. And that comprehension paralyzed me.