Edward's Midnight Sun, Part 1: Last Night

In which Edward Cullen spends a last night with Bella Swan before their wedding in Breaking Dawn.

Edward and Bella and all the other recognisable characters are the property of Stephanie Meyer. No money will ever be made as a result of this text, and no copyright infringement is intended.

"I miss you already," Bella breathed, her arms snaking around my neck, pulling my face to hers for another kiss — her heart pounding.

"I don't need to leave. I can stay. . . ." I murmured, obliging her, meeting her slightly parted lips and feeling, to be perfectly honest, a bit light-headed. Really, she was good enough to eat. Skin like pale rosebuds, lips like sugar —

"Mmm," she hummed, her hands on my bare chest, leaving trails of stinging heat in their wake. She was driving me out of my mind. When my eyes were closed, my mouth locked to hers, her hands on my body, immersed in her sweet, delicious scent, I just… I couldn't… For heaven's sake! I could barely remember my own name. Was I thinking like a man, or a vampire? Was I thinking at all?

I opened my eyes to look at her, and remind myself not to swallow her whole. We'd been doing this for weeks now, our relationship balanced on a knife's edge, always playing with the possibility of going too far. Since Bella had agreed to marry me, and I'd agreed to a real honeymoon… Just thinking about it did something to my body that I absolutely knew was dangerous. And Bella! Was she crazy? Bella was wanton — she did everything she could — everything I would let her do — to undermine my self-control and push me from my precarious balance. It was…

Wonderful.

No, awful! In the time since Bella had entered my life like a wrecking ball, I'd gone from ravening beast to besotted Romeo, to protector and avenging angel. I'd tasted her blood and even though the bloodlust that had commanded me to drain her dry had been the most overwhelming compulsion I'd ever felt, I hadn't killed her. I'd made the unthinkable mistake of imagining I could live without her, and I'd suffered the worst misery of my existence fighting against my own desire for her fragile life, only to find her fighting for mine when I had no right to hope that she could ever love me again. Now, I lived constantly in a bewildering amalgam of unmerited bliss and something darker. Shame, maybe. Or grief.

What I'd never done was simply let myself feel the almost painful joy of possessing her — I'd never just let myself want her.

Right now, her cheeks were flushed pink, her lips stung and swollen from kissing me. Her hammering heartbeat was the loudest thing in the room except for my breath, ever more ragged as her sweet, unbearable scent washed over me. I wanted her so desperately my head swam.

She drew back and opened her eyes, and looking deeply into mine for a long moment. What was she thinking? As usual, I didn't know, but I didn't need to be a mind reader to see how much she loved me and wanted me, body and soul. And, Bella believed I did have a soul. Well, if I did, it was hers. It felt like I spent most of my life these days simply feeling overwhelmed. Could it really be true that tomorrow this girl would be mine? Would Charlie really put her hand in mine, and would she truly bind herself to me forever? How could I ever have deserved such a fate? I felt like a criminal, like I was getting away with…

She pulled my face back to her mouth and kissed me again, her lips insistent, her hands sliding down my back, pulling me closer to her with a little sigh.

…what was I thinking?

"Definitely staying," I breathed, as her melting softness pressed against the length of my body. I thought about how this would feel without the blankets, without these now uncomfortably tight jeans…

"No, no. It's your bachelor party. You have to go," she murmured. There was no conviction in her voice, and as she said it, she wound her fingers through my hair and pressed me closer to her, crushing my hips into hers. I hoped she didn't feel my resistance, but I just could not bear it. Trying as inconspicuously as possible to give my aching arousal some space, I brought my hands up to smooth back her hair, stroke her hot, flushed cheek, and held her with my eyes.

"Bachelor parties are designed for those who are sad to see the passing of their single days," I told her, smiling. "I couldn't be more eager," it was an incredible understatement, "to have mine behind me."

"True." She breathed, dropping her face to whisper the word against my throat, her lips moving over my cold skin, as her hand traced over my shoulder, down my chest and then slid down my stomach, dangerously close to… She kissed me again, hungrily, her tongue, pressing against my lips. Good God. I was at sea. I felt like I was capsizing. Like I was holding onto her for ballast. What was I waiting for again? Why couldn't I just tear the flimsy barriers — blankets, clothes, deals we'd made — out of the way and… and… a tremor shook me as her hand fluttered at the low waist of my jeans, and I gasped against her mouth. There was a ferocious appetite building in my body, a need to…

It had to stop. This was Bella, fragile, beautiful Bella. I pulled back.

"Wait," she pleaded, pulling me closer and pressing her maddeningly luscious body against me and wrapping a leg around my waist. "Practice makes perfect."

I laughed in spite of myself. "Well, we should be fairly close to perfection by this point, then, shouldn't we? Have you slept at all in the last month?" Had I had a single coherent thought in the last month?

"But this is the dress rehearsal," she pressed, "and we've only practiced certain scenes. It's no time for playing safe."

She'd been joking, but I couldn't laugh. I felt myself go cold. It wasn't just what she'd said, but her tone — like there was something humorous about any of this. I couldn't help but feel that she'd been… conned. Lulled into a false sense of security. It was my fault. I'd let our relationship become so much more physical than ever before, and now it was building to some… I could barely think the word… climax. She trusted me not to hurt her, but she had no idea about the knife's edge, or about the ruthlessness of the desire that was building in me.

There'd only ever been one thing that had called me as inexorably, and that was the bloodlust I'd felt on the first day I'd seen her. The violent feelings I had now called out for a different release, but they felt just as wild, just as ungovernable. She couldn't conceive of how close — nearly indistinguishable — the need I felt now was to the old savagery of my desire for her blood. I knew didn't want to hurt her, even that I couldn't — not on purpose — but my body? My body wanted something, and there was nothing gentle about it. Was there something in my nature that could not be denied? A monster that still wanted to consume her?

"Bella…," I whispered.

"Don't start this again," she said flatly, "A deal's a deal."

"I don't know. It's too hard to concentrate when you're with me like this."

Concentrate! What nonsense. I was nowhere near being able to concentrate. The problem was so much more basic than that, but I simply could not articulate it. "I… I can't think straight. I won't be able to control myself." I was ashamed now. "You'll get hurt," I finished, pleadingly.

"I'll be fine," she insisted, stroking my face. Her vampire fiance. Seriously, she was completely insane.

"Bella . . ."

"Shh!" she said, stopping my thought with insistent lips, trying to part mine. I kissed her back. Part of me wanted nothing more than to just surrender and just…

No. Not possible.

Struggling for some much needed control, I thought about baseball, pizza, Rosalie, Mike Newton, Jacob Black. Jacob Black. Abruptly, a devastating sadness swept through me. Jacob. Bella's best friend and would-be lover. I'd seen her in his mind — seen the way he wanted her, seen him kiss her and hold her, and live with her as a true mate — a wife and mother of his children. Of all the myriad fantasies I had seen in his mind, it was the one that cut me deepest, and even though she would never have admitted it to me, I knew she'd felt his pull; the pull of that life. I could never give her that. Thinking of what Bella was giving up to literally give her life to me was sickening.

I was a monster.

"How are your feet?" I asked her, trying to hide the turn my thoughts had taken. It would only pain her to hear the misery in my voice, and though I could no longer actually hope she would, some small part of me was still afraid she might come to her senses.

"Toasty warm," she replied.

It wasn't what I'd meant, and she knew that I knew that she knew it. I sighed. "Really? No second thoughts? It's not too late to change your mind," I insisted half-heartedly.

"Are you trying to ditch me?" She said it like it was funny; like she knew it wasn't true. At least there was that — as least now she knew now that I could never even think about leaving her, selfish, depraved creature that I was. I shook my head, feeling wretched, but laughing a little in the darkness for her sake.

"Just making sure. I don't want you to do anything you're not sure about," I said, keeping my voice buoyant with effort.

"I'm sure about you," she reassured me, and then, after a pause, "the rest I can live through."

Live through it? Firstly, she wouldn't, and she knew it. Her insistence on becoming as cold and hard as I was, eternal and immutable, even when I'd been forced to accept that it was inevitable, still provoked a spiralling sense of despair.

"Can you?" I pressed quietly. "I don't mean the wedding — which I am positive you will survive despite your qualms — but afterward…" I paused. Part of me wanted her to listen, part of me was terrified she would, "what about Renee, what about Charlie?"

"I'll miss them," she sighed, and a hint of real sorrow tinged her voice. She looked away, thoughtful, but said nothing more.

"Angela and Ben and Jessica and Mike," I tried again.

"I'll miss my friends, too," she said, with a sad smile, before shooting me a mischievous glance in the darkness. "Especially Mike. Oh, Mike! How will I go on?"

I groaned. At one time, nearly undone by jealousy, I'd wanted to tear Mike Newton limb from limb, but not now. Now I was just irritated. Would she ever realise what she was doing? I was a thief, stealing her life, her family, her chance of a family of her own. Stealing her chance at a human life with all its joys and pains. Could I really ask her to give that up for me?

She laughed at me, and then, suddenly serious, pulled me around to face her. "Edward, we've been through this and through this," she said, looking into my eyes. "I know it will be hard, but this is what I want," she affirmed. "I want you, and I want you forever. One lifetime is simply not enough for me." She was decided, and certainty rang clear in her voice.

"Frozen forever at eighteen," I whispered.

"Every woman's dream come true," she replied, teasingly.

It bothered me that she didn't take this more seriously. She couldn't really know what she was asking for, and I couldn't escape the feeling that she hadn't really thought about it. Maybe it was the difference in our ages — she was 18 and I was, well… much older. She'd fallen in love, and knew what she wanted for now, but what about later? Would she come to hate me for what I'd done to her? Could she really know what she'd want in 10, 15, 50 years? Would I be enough to sustain her through the long years of an immortal life? Was I a demon to be hopeful that the transformation could freeze her as she was now, obsessed with the single-minded desire to be mine, forever?

There had been times in my long life, in fact, all the time before I'd met her, when I'd felt just… empty; living a paltry half-life before she'd come to Forks and wreaked havoc on my inertia. I loved my family — Carlisle and Esme, Alice, Jasper, Emmett, even Rosalie — but as time passed, as faces and places changed around us while we stayed the same — ever changeless still-points in the turning world — a creeping despair had begun taking me, and it was all I could do to distract myself. I'd buried myself in studies, in music. I'd even once tried just living like the beast I was, but being a real monster had only made it worse. No matter what I'd done, I'd been unable to get over the feeling that nothing mattered, not really. Until I'd been shaken awake by Bella.

"Never changing… never moving forward," I said, looking into her eyes, trying to make her see.

She'd finally felt my mood. "What does that mean?" she asked, seriously.

I hesitated. She wouldn't like it. I tried to hold her dark eyes in mine, tried to will her to understand. "Do you remember when we told Charlie we were getting married?" I offered, as she nodded, "and he thought you were… pregnant?"

"And he thought about shooting you," she broke in laughing suddenly. "Admit it—for one second, he honestly considered it." She looked at me, her eyes sparkling with humour.

I couldn't answer. I couldn't laugh.

"What, Edward?" she asked, worried now.

"I just wish… well, I wish that he'd been right."

She gasped. Incredulous? Or, had she finally understood? She stared at me, her eyes wider now. I rushed to fill the silence.

"More that there was some way he could have been. That we had that kind of potential," I cast my eyes down on her warm hands held now in my cold fingers. "I hate taking that away from you, too."

She was quiet for a long moment. Finally, she took a deep breath and said, "I know what I'm doing."

"How could you know that, Bella?" I insisted, looking at her again. "Look at my mother, look at my sister." I added, flinching — especially my sister. Rosalie had never stopped aching for everything she'd lost. "It's not as easy a sacrifice as you imagine," I said, shaking my head.

She stopped me. "Esme and Rosalie get by just fine. If it's a problem later, we can do what Esme did—we'll adopt."

I let out a long, exasperated breath, and then I was suddenly angry. Not at her; at myself. How could I do this! How could I have allowed this to go so far? How could I let this beautiful, perfect girl love me and sacrifice everything to give me everything I had ever wanted? I was so horribly, appallingly selfish! I wanted her blood, her body, her heart… and not in any metaphorical sense! I would actually take her heart from her; stop it from beating. Forever. I felt suddenly desperate, like I'd let things careen wildly out of control, and now we were headed for an inevitable disaster. Tomorrow she would leave her father's house — not that it had ever been any protection against me — and I'd take her away. Tomorrow night, I'd have her, all alone and far away, and I'd finally…

"It's not right!" I burst out, angrily. "I don't want you to have to make sacrifices for me! I want to give you things, not take things away from you."

She was shaking her head, finally seeing the pain in my face, finally seeing that I was serious.

"I don't want to steal your future. If I were human—" I started, pleadingly. She stopped me, putting a hand over my mouth.

"You are my future, Edward," she said, softly. "Now stop moping, or I'm calling your brothers to come and get you. Maybe you need a bachelor party."

Moping. It was too mild a word. I wasn't moping, I was grieving. And, now on top of everything else, I was doing it on the night before her wedding. What could I do to change any of it now? I couldn't leave her, I couldn't convince her not to do this. Worst of all, as much as I knew she wanted it, I knew I wanted it — wanted her — so much more. The desire felt like a hot stone in my gut.

"I'm sorry. I am moping, aren't I? Must be the nerves," I finally said, trying to smile a little through the lie. It was a struggle.

"Are your feet cold?" she asked, her forehead creased, suddenly worried. Was she was actually absurd enough to imagine that this had anything to do with not wanting her?

"No." I told her, "I've been waiting a century to marry you, Bella. The wedding ceremony is the one thing I can't wait—"

Edward, stop freaking out all over that poor girl and get out here. We have big, sexy plans for you. It was Emmett, exasperated. He and Jasper were outside in the trees.

"Oh, for the love of all that's holy!" I huffed.

"What's wrong?"

"You don't have to call my brothers." I said through my teeth. "Apparently Emmett and Jasper aren't going to let me bow out tonight." She held me closer for a moment, loathe to let me go, and then released me.

"Have fun."

Emmett scratched at the window with claws of steel — fingernails on the chalkboard times a million. Bella shuddered.

"If you don't send Edward out," Emmett hissed in his scary voice, "we're coming in after him!"

She'd released me immediately and sent me away with a laugh.

The next time I'd see her, she'd be in white, promising herself to me for as long as we both shall live. I felt such an unholy tangle of things — first, the ache of leaving Bella, even just for a few hours, and the desire for her that throbbed endlessly in my body. I felt the bewildering joy of knowing that she would soon be mine. But, I also felt like a criminal — a thief who would steal her future, a murderer who would stop her heart.

A rapist.

Even as I thought it, I knew I was going too far, and shook it off. I knew the minds of such men, and I knew that they knew nothing of the love I felt; the love that had driven my every action from the time I'd realised that I could never slake my murderous thirst on her precious blood.

Maybe I was being melodramatic.

I followed my brothers into the night, glad no one could trespass on my thoughts the way I trespassed on theirs, but I was in no mood for a bachelor party.