A/N: This is my entry for TsukikageNiiro529’s challenge. Enjoy!

I am the world’s most disgusting creature. Hideous in nature, frightening in motion.

What on Earth had possessed me to agree to something as preposterous as this? Why had I given into her desires as well as my own so easily, especially when I knew it would be so dangerous, that there would be an alarming high risk of me hurting her? I glance down at her bruised body, a deep revulsion spreading through me. Why would someone put their beloved through so much pain for a moment’s pleasure?

I am sick. I am twisted. But most of all, I am completely in love with the beautiful woman sprawled across my chest. Her own rose and fell in time with mine, a nearly perfection recreation. The only difference between us is the thrumming heart concealed within, pumping the precious life.

The life she wants me to take away. The life I had agreed to take away.

Gnashing my teeth together, I tried to divert my attention elsewhere. The longer I stared at the swelling bruises, the brilliant mixture of purple, blue, and in some places, the deepest of blacks, the more I discovered that I really am the monster I always warned Bella about. Before now, I always wanted her to keep her safe, to remind her at any given moment; I could snap her neck and drink her blood. Of course, I would never willing do that to my Bella; I fought long and hard against my lust for her blood and I won. Soon, it was no longer a problem for me; I cared for her too much to cause any harm to her ever again.

I had already done that when I’d left her.

Regardless of how victorious I was, I knew I would end up hurting her in the end. And now look, she was covered from head to toe in bruises, and it was all because of me. It was due to my inability to control the lust within, the fire-like desire that had been progressively building the longer I refused to give Bella the one thing she wanted.

I am disgusting. I am repulsive. But I love her too damn much. While I could blame my emotions for controlling my behaviour this night, I knew what I was getting myself into when I’d agreed to Bella’s stipulations. Is it entirely too revolting that I found joy surging through me, the thought of getting to take Bella as my wife, both emotionally and physically?

Even though the thought of our bodies intertwined in the most intimate ways was intoxicating, one of the only things I ever thought about, I knew the risks that accompanied the pleasure. I knew them and I took them anyway.

To think, I’d promised to never hurt her again.

Now, she wore my bruises.

My bruises.

It was difficult enough to see her succumbing to her clumsiness and the resulting injuries, but to know that it was I who inflicted the injuries. It was too much to handle. The weight of my thoughts began to crash down around me, draining any ounce of remaining pleasure from me.

How could I have done something so cruel, so heartless, even though she’d asked for it?

Jacob was right - the obnoxious werewolf was right! I shouldn’t have ever agreed to her conditions, I should have denied her outrageous request. However, at the time, my mind was not in a sane place; instead, it was concentrated on the subtle curves of her body pressed against mine, the swells of her breasts blushed a deep red from my tender kisses, and the pleasurable sounds issuing from her full lips the result of my doings.

At the time, I hadn’t been thinking sanely, but now I was. Now that the evidence of his words was staring me in the face, I couldn’t deny how incredibly stupid, how incredibly selfish I had been when agreeing to her terms. Why couldn’t I have surrendered, agreed that we did not have to get married before I delivered the Kiss of Death?

To be perfectly honest, I knew the answer. I wanted her as my own, to claim her as my own. If I’d only gotten over the lingering amounts of jealousy settled deep into the pits of my subconscious when it came to the wolf, none of this would have happened. Bella would not be covered in bruises nor would there be feathers drenching every surface of the room.

Despite myself, I chuckled softly. It was a hollow sound, one that lacks any mirth. While I wished I could be happy at what has just transpired between myself and my entirely too human wife, I could not bring myself to smile. Not when she looked as though a car has ran over her.

Before I could sink further into my wallowing, brief flashes of the consummation of our love appeared before my unwilling eyes, courtesy of my subconscious. The look in Bella’s eyes as I kissed her as softly as possible in the water; the feel of her wet, warm skin against mine as I carried her out of the rising tide, into the house. The sounds of her vehement dismissal of my last, unsure questions and her heated, almost eager touch blazing as fiercely as an inferno along my skin; the softest of gasps when our bodies met in the most intimate of ways; the steadily louder noises of what I assumed to be pleasure. . .

I closed my eyes. No, they weren’t sounds of pleasure. She was hurting. Yet when I asked her if she was all right, if there was too much pain, she shook her head and urged me onward, her hips bucking lightly against mine.

I should have denied her; I should not have continued. But I didn‘t.

I should have rolled away from her after the first tear trickled out of her left eye, should have called it off as soon as I licked the salty moisture away. But I didn’t.

I shouldn’t have touched her, should not have stroked her supple skin, should not have kissed her so roughly when caught in the moment. I shouldn’t have allowed my emotions to rise over me like the waves that crashed against the white sands and pull me under. I should have fought against the rising tide, but I didn’t.

Instead, I continued.

Instead, I kissed away her tears, consuming her delicious mouth with my own.

Instead, I held onto her as tightly as I could manage without shattering her bones.

Instead, I let the soft pestering of my emotions lull me into the deep unknown. I allowed myself to explore the depths of feelings I had never knew, and thus I was forced to suffer the consequences.

My Bella, covered in my bruises. I don’t think I will ever recover from the sight.

For some strange reason, I felt compelled to touch the bruises, the injuries I’ve inflicted upon her. I grabbed the nearest white feather, lightly tracing it over the bright purple bruise that decorated her shoulder. I could see the faint outlines of my fingertips, when I had pushed her head to the side in order to sink my razor sharp teeth into the pillow opposed to the supple skin of her neck. I traced the long lines with the tip of the feather, applying the lightest amount of pressure to the bruise. It did not waver in its darkness, but rather mocked me as I stared at her.

Following the evidence of my fingertips, I dipped the feather into the curve of her neck, the place I so loved to flourish with kisses. As the tip of the feather skimmed the skin, a light shiver ran through my Bella, causing my stomach to tighten as her body pressed against mine. Fighting the urge to capture her lips within my own, I stayed perfectly still. I did not wish to wake her when she needed to rest. Much to my delight, she did not wake up, instead, she burrowed closer to me, her fingers curling into a small fist as she placed them over my heart. It was as if she knew the turmoil I was suffering.

I continued to trace the remains of my bruises along the bare parts of her body exposed to me, following the lines my fingertips had left. Over the length of her collarbone, dipping slightly to skim the tops of her breasts which are a faint purple from my heavy kisses. Across to the other side of her neck and down the line of her shoulder. Another shudder rippled through her and the softest of moans escaped her lips.

I ran the feather down her arm, stopping at the crook of her elbow. When I skimmed the sensitive area of skin, Bella murmured inaudibly in her sleep, though my instincts told me it’d been my name. While the thought would’ve brought a smile to my face, I could only grimace. More than likely, she was dreaming of all the pain I’d caused her, of the monster I was. I would not blame her if she saw me in such a light. I saw myself in the very same light. She was probably disgusted by me and in her dreams, wishing to get away from me.

However, I would not let her go. Not this night. Until the morning came and she opened her deep brown eyes, I would not let her go. This was the last time I would be able to hold her so close, so intimately, the whisper of her velvet skin against mine, until she was an immortal.

I would not touch my wife again in such a private way until she was like me, unbreakable.

Releasing a soft sigh, I pressed a kiss to her pale forehead and then laid my cheek against the crown of her head.

After all, I had waited one hundred and eight years; I could wait a few weeks’ longer.