"It's not only your company I crave. Never forget that. Never forget I am more dangerous to you than I am to anyone else." I realized I had become harsh, and again, I was nervous that I might have hurt her feelings.
I heard her heart beating. It was a heavenly sound. She spoke then, "I don't think I understand exactly what you mean - by that last part anyway."
I turned to look at her then; I hadn't expected her to ask this question. I smiled, realizing I never truly explained what her blood does to me.
"How do I explain?" I deliberated, "And without frightening you again... hmmmm."
My hand was suddenly warm again, and I realized that it had found its way back into her hands. I reached out and placed it there without even giving it my permission. I was distracted immediately, "That's amazingly pleasant, the warmth." I sighed.
I began thinking of how I could explain what her blood does to me. What could I say that would make it not sound like I was fighting to not drink her blood every second I was around her? It's true, the monster has been clawing less, but that is because my desires to possess her in other ways had become forefront in my mind. Maybe a food analogy?
"You know how everyone enjoys different flavors?" I asked, "Some people love chocolate ice cream, others prefer strawberry?"
She nodded, and I decided that maybe food wasn't the best way to explain this, "Sorry about the food analogy - I couldn't think of another way to explain."
She smiled and I returned it. I mulled over how to explain this craving I have, "You see, every person smells different, has a different essence. If you locked an alcoholic in a room full of stale beer, he'd gladly drink it. But he could resist, if he wished to, if he were a recovering alcoholic. Now, let's say you placed in that room a glass of hundred-year-old brandy, the rarest, finest cognac - and filled the room with its warm aroma - how do you think he would fare then?" I tried to explain.
I stared fixedly at her then, waiting for her to understand. Alcohol was such a weak comparison. How her blood could ever compare to something so flagrant. At that moment, a light breeze enhanced what I was thinking. Her scent continued to leave a dry dull ache in my throat. She still hadn't answered.
"Maybe that's not the right comparison. Maybe it would be too easy to turn down the brandy. Perhaps I should have made our alcoholic a heroin addict instead." I decided.
I had never drank alcohol or did any type of drug, those things do nothing for me, but I do know what these things could do to a human. My degrees in medicine helped me understand these types of addictions, but my addiction to Bella was still no comparison.
"So what you're saying is, I'm your brand of heroin?" she asked playfully.
She always knew what to say to lift my spirits. I smiled at her, "Yes, you are exactly my brand of heroin."
"Does that happen often?" she asked me.
It doesn't happen often, I have only seen it too clearly in Emmett's mind what happened when he crossed paths with someone who smelled as delicious as Bella does to me. I didn't know how to answer her question without making her fear me more, but maybe she needed another dose of fear, "I spoke to my brothers about it." I told her.
I looked away from her as I spoke, not wanting to see her reaction to what I was about to tell her, "To Jasper, every one of you is much the same. He's the most recent to join our family. It's a struggle for him to abstain at all. He hasn't had time to grow sensitive to the differences in smell, in flavor." I inclined my head in her direction, hoping she would understand I was sorry that I would have to tell her the rest, "Sorry." I murmured.
"I don't mind. Please don't worry about offending me, or frightening me, or whichever. That's the way you think. I can understand, or I can try to at least. Just explain however you can," she commanded me.
Silly Bella, I'm always worried about your well being, even your mental health, I thought. I gulped in some of the air around us. Her scent went rushing down my throat and filled my lungs with a burning hunger, emphasizing my explanation, "So Jasper wasn't sure if he'd ever come across someone who was as," I hesitated, making sure I'd pick a word that wouldn't scare her, "appealing as you are to me. Which makes me think not. Emmett has been on the wagon longer, so to speak, and he understood what I meant. He says twice, for him, once stronger than the other."
"And for you?"
"Never," I responded.
We were both silent then. What was she thinking now?
"What did Emmett do?" she asked.
I wished she hadn't asked this question. I clenched my teeth as I remembered what happened just as clearly as Emmett had when he was telling me about his experiences. Of course, the humans didn't survive. Bella will live, I promised myself, because I knew I couldn't live without her now.
"I guess I know," she said, taking the burden off my shoulders.
I looked at her then, wishing she would understand that I didn't want her fate to be like those other humans, that I loved her and would do everything in my power to protect her. I sighed internally; "Even the strongest of us fall off the wagon, don't we?" the thought was wistful.
"What are you asking? My permission?" she hissed acidly, "I mean, is there no hope then?" she said softly.
She spoke openly about her death, like she would have welcomed it if it came from me. How could she possibly think there was no hope? Hadn't I proven that I was stronger than I was when I first engulfed her fragrance? I was instantly repentant, "No, no! Of course there's hope! I mean, of course I won't..." take your life, I added mentally.