Disclaimer: I don't own the Twilight series. That right belongs to Stephenie Meyers.
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The smell was potent. The perfumed cinnamon lingered off her body as the wind blew her scent his way. He sighed, almost painfully, as the woman twirled in the middle of the dance floor. Her hair cascaded down the slopes of her shoulders, a waterfall of liquid silk. He was infatuated. No, she did not hold the beauty his wife had; nobody ever would. She did not draw him by her features.
It was her blood.
There was not a strong attraction. He did not yearn for her body, nor did he desire her presence. He only wanted one thing. The forbidden taste of sin. His bloodlust pounded in his mind, the instinct screaming to unleash the monster within. No. He was not a monster. He did not want to inflict that fear upon people, no matter how amusing he found it.
The venom dripped down his throat, burning with anticipation. The beast within had faded into the depths of his mind, but the battle had yet to be won. He would emerge again that night. It was inevitable. It was one of the flaws of being a paradoxical horror. A vampire. He was introduced to a new life. He was given another chance.
In hell he had found an angel. At the moment he glanced at his angel, he found solace. This double life could not have been so bad if he were blessed with the golden-haired cherub. He had a father, a mother, and a brother. He had a wife. The first few years of his new life had been barely tolerable. Whenever the scent of blood hit his mind, it felt as if he were asphyxiating. Like a father teaching his child, Carlisle had taught his family better.
And he had been controllable. There were minor indiscretions that never ventured too far, but his slate had been cleaned. Just when he felt like he had been relived of the uncontrollable desire for blood, things fell apart. The moment they arrived to the city, she welcomed them like a kind hostess. His nostrils flared as her scent caught his nose. He slightly crouched, and that was when his brother clutched his arm, dragging him away into the home.
Edward knew when things were wrong; his mind reading abilities never ceased to annoy him. The weeks passed, and he busied himself by reciting lessons from his schooling. He passed off the encounter as a lapse of weakness, and Edward had shrugged it off. But he was gone that night hunting. Edward was not there to be his conscious.
In the blink of an eye, her swaying body stumbled towards him, intoxicated by the consumption of liquor. Her blue eyes glazed over. Her intentions were not as pure as her sober persona. She was another oppressed housewife. She was audacious. She was a fool.
"Hello," she said, her voice heavy with desire. Her hands reached up to toy with the mask that covered his eyes, causing him to flinch. Her wrist grazed his nose, and the monster sparked to life once more.
He grabbed her wrist gently, placing it back to her side. "Hello. You are enjoying the masquerade I assume?"
"Oh yes." She giggled, hiccupped, and stumbled towards him in her haze of intoxication. "Perhaps you would like to join me for a walk?"
"You have been drinking spirits," he muttered, turning his head the other way. "I must be off."
Her hand reached out to snatch his own. "Must you leave so early?"
"Yes, I must."
She sauntered towards him, closing the distance between their bodies. "Perhaps I can entice you to stay?"
He let out a strangled groan, trying to escape the temptation. He felt her blood pulsate in the veins of her wrist, slowly making him crazy with craving. He lifted his head, starting at the mask which concealed her face. Tonight was an annual masquerade in honor of All Hallows Eve. Everyone wore another layer on top of their faces.
There would be no regrets.
There would be no mistakes.
There would be no one to hear.
Without another word, he drew ran with her into a dark alley. She did not notice that they were miles away from the party. She was exhilarated. The brick, damp wall supported her frame, as she turned her head. The moonlight shined upon his face, revealing a haggard looking man as he discarded the mask from his face.
"E-Emmett Cullen?" she gasped, too stunned to make a move. "Wh-What are you?"
But he was not there. Emmett Cullen had been pulled under into the depths of his mind. The monster had won the war. It always would. A deep snarl ripped from his throat as he lunged towards her. "I am a vampire," he whispered before sinking his teeth into her flesh.
Authoress Note: Yes, it stinks. Hahaha. No really, it does. Well, I've had this idea stuck in my mind for a long time. This takes place in the early years of Emmett's life and is one of the "slip-ups" he had. Emmett is a loveable character, but he is not stupid. He is not always silly—everyone has a vindictive and dark side to them.