Disclaimer: I don't own the Twilight saga
A/N: Basically takes place sometime after James begins tracking Bella. A quick look, giving a deeper reason as to why he decided to track her. Enjoy! Reviews are very welcome!
It was the horrible reminder that had provoked him. When he'd walked into that clearing, the way Edward Cullen, one of the strange, amber-eyed 'vegetarians', was so protective over Bella Swan, an obvious human, he had been blasted with the horrible memories of the past he could never seem to forget.
He couldn't accept it. He couldn't accept that this Edward Cullen could accomplish what he couldn't those near two hundred years ago...
She smelled like heaven to him. Of course, that's only what he could imagine heaven smelled like. He certainly would never see heaven, if there were such a place. Not being the monster he was.
James hated what he had become. In a cowardly act of begging for anything but death, he had inevitably become the same monster that had taken everything from him. A vampire.
He was aware of how wrong it was to look at her the way he did, but he could hardly help himself. As far as James was concerned, she was the vision of perfection. Her golden waves cascaded down her back, her slender body shaped by the bodice she wore under her fancy dresses, the white gloves that adorned her hands a sure sign of upper class. Her eyes were as blue and clear as the Caribbean waters, her cheeks naturally tinted with a flush and her pink hued lips always twitched upward in a nearly unnoticeable smile.
But her scent... it was the most alluring he had ever smelled, which proved dangerous at times. On more than one occasion he had found himself in her bedroom, staring at her as she slept, fighting back the urge to sink his teeth into her soft, porcelain flesh and taste the nectar that pulsed beneath.
Constance was the beautiful young daughter of a wealthy judge, who continuously spoiled her with the latest French fashions, finest perfumes and most intricate jewelry. Though she was barely sixteen, James found himself fascinated with her, especially after inhaling the delicious aroma she gave off.
Though she lived lavishly and seemingly had no sense of hardships or labor, Constance was a sweet girl, good-natured and kind-hearted, though she was most certainly very naïve and vulnerable. James knew he should've stayed away, but the urge to know her was far too much to resist when she was so accepting of his strange behavior, no questions asked. She never confronted him about his constantly cold skin, of course he usually kept a few feet between them, and she never asked about his absence on beautiful, sunny days. She either ignored or didn't even notice it, which, he was not quite sure.
He would say he loved her, only he didn't believe it were possible for a creature like him to feel love. It was her blood. He would try to convince himself that was the sole reason she captivated him so. But deep down, he knew if that were the case, she would've been drained many months ago when he had first arrived it Stratford. The seemingly constant English summer rain had been perfect for the warmer months, but he'd stayed into November already, aware that the blonde beauty had some influence on this decision.
The sound of the pouring rain unfortunately made it difficult for James to listen to the heated conversation he could see Constance was having across the cobble street. From his front room, James could sit on his windowsill and peer into the dining area of her home. At the moment, she seemed to be fighting with her father, about what, he was unsure. She was acting quite unacceptably, causing James to assume it must've been something fairly serious since he'd never seen Constance so much as frown.
He jumped from his sill and backed up once she appeared in the street from her front door, being soaked by the rainwater as she rushed to the steps that led to his generously decorated loft. He was glad he'd lit his fire for pure show, because Constance rapped on his door quickly and was sure to be freezing in the autumn rain.
Self consciously, he wondered if she had seen him looking in on her private matters, but when he pulled the front door open, he saw the distraught look on her face and his selfish thoughts disappeared. He was thankful he had fed on some lowly whore late last night because as soon as she entered his townhouse, her potency, hardly masked by the perfume she wore, filled his nostrils.
"James, something horrible has happened." His brows rose as he shut and locked his door behind her. He hadn't noticed before, mostly because of the raindrops covering her body, but she was crying.
"What's wrong?" He resisted the urge to reach out and touch her, not willing to tempt himself. But in an unusually aggressive way, she spun, throwing her arms around his neck and he froze, terrified his will would break. But it only took her a second to realize she was getting James wet and she was being indecent by launching herself at the young man and she pulled back, shyly looking at the wood floor. It was inappropriate enough for her to be alone in his house without an escort. But these weren't her main concerns at the moment.
"What happened Constance?" James persisted, politely ignoring the out of character behavior of the girl before him. The curiosity was what kept his control in check at the moment. Thankfully, it pushed aside his desire to feed off of her.
"My father. He's arranged a marriage between Lord Archibald's son and I." An empty feeling flowed through James' tense body, quite the opposite of what he usually felt in her presence. He had never considered what he would do about his feelings (though he would never label them that) for Constance.
"Oh..." That was all he could bring himself to say. He couldn't very well do anything about it. Well, he could. He could do what, deep down, he knew he wanted to do. Change her and make her his mate for eternity. But he would never curse her the way he had been cursed; damn her along with him.
"James!" she gasped out, looking pained. His eyes closed softly and he moved his head away. He wasn't stupid and had guessed she had an attraction to him months ago when they'd first met. Clearly, ignoring it hadn't worked out as he'd hoped. "You don't even care..."
His dead heart wrenched as his eyes snapped back to her, the wounded expression on her young face unnerving him. Ideas and their consequences flashed through his mind like lightning. He was afraid to fill her head with false promises and leave before dawn, knowing how much more that would hurt. There were too many risks in revealing himself for what he truly was, for the both of them. Hurting her, rejecting her, seemed to be the option that appealed to her best interest.
"What would you have me do?" Her gaze was hard on him and he immediately regretted the harsh way he'd spoken to the delicate girl before him. "Your fairy tale ending isn't going to happen Constance. I'm too old for you. You should go back home now before you get sick in those wet clothes."
James turned away form her, retreating up the winding stairs to the master bedroom. The strained sob that echoed behind him caused a bolt of pain to shoot through his chest, but he continued to the second floor, afraid his restraint would break if he allowed himself to be vulnerable to her.
He sat on the bed, again for show, and waited for the front door to slam shut, but instead, let out a sigh as his heightened sense of sound picked up the soft padding of her feet as she ascended his stairs. Clearly, she wasn't going to make this easy on him and unfortunately, James wasn't sure if he could bring himself to scar her emotions like that again.
"Stop it James! Lord Archibald's son is two years your senior!" She was behind him now, standing the width of his bed away.
"You have no idea love," he muttered under his breath before rising and moving around the bed to where she was rooted. He reached out and placed his hands on her shoulders lightly. "Constance..." He couldn't finish what he was going to say as he watched her eyes well with tears, a waft of her natural fragrance being forcibly ignored.
"Please James. Don't. I love you." His stone face softened at her hoarse, desperate words. She wanted him to save her, take her away from her evil father and whisk her to his castle in the clouds. She had no idea he was indeed the evil one though.
His palms cupped her soft jaw and without hesitation, he pulled her close, finding her lips were nearly as cold as his and trembling from shivers. But he could feel the blood pumping through the soft, plump flesh as she eagerly kissed him back, her hands resting on his collar.
His lust grew as his tongue pushed past her lips, finding the inside of her mouth to be warm, a feeling he was no longer used to. Her humanity was what drew him to her most. If she had been a vampire as he was, James doubted his interest would be nearly as piqued.
He had to be careful. Her hands were vibrating, fumbling with the buttons she was progressively releasing from their holds. She was eager, desperate to prove to him that she loved him, and that he needed to do something, anything, about this dreaded marriage. Constance slid the thin shirt from his shoulders, finding his body provided no warmth that her body craved, but pressing herself into him anyway.
James' skilled hands seemed to loosen the back lace of her dress, which she considered casual, but was quite lovely and delicate, with a mere flick of his wrist before he pulled it down her slim shoulders and let it pool at her dainty feet. She remained covered by her undergarments and a tight bodice still though.
He pulled away from her welcoming, anxious lips and marveled at her ideal figure. He knew what he was starting was dangerous. Resisting her at this point was not an appealing option at all though. If he couldn't have her blood, he would have the next best thing. He just hoped his will proved strong enough.
James pressed soft kisses to her jaw as he undid the front tie of the bodice that overlapped her thin undershirt. Completely pulling the lace out, James smoothly removed the cincher, tossing it to the ground and taking the undershirt with it.
He thought of her as poison; one of those beautiful flowers that kills, or delicious looking berries that make you ill. It distracted his hunger as his fingers danced over the bared skin of her arms. Desire to cup her breasts was pushed aside, knowing her pulse would be too strong there. He instead opted for running his cool hands over them once before holding her face again, bringing her lips back to his.
Despite his inner battle, James felt happy, genuinely happy, for the first time since he'd been changed. Despite the burning hunger and scent of her arousal, he felt almost human, the soft tracing of her fingers over his muscles leaving a warm, content feeling behind.
Letting his aggression take control for a split second, he snaked his arms around her middle, pulling her soft, warming body flush against his. This proved to be a little dangerous as he felt all her pulsing points against him, peaking his senses.
But his concentration returned and he ignored the craving. Again, James moved away from her mouth, this time falling to his knees in front of Constance and sliding the pantaloons down her legs, stopping so she could step out of them before throwing them across the bedroom.
He gripped her hips with his inhumanly strong hands, reminding himself to be gentle as he dipped his head between her legs, running his tongue over her warm sex. A soft gasp sounded through the room and Constance's hands tangled into James' dirty blonde hair. He lapped at her, twitching a little every time his tongue stroked over her throbbing nub, knowing if he just bit down a little...
He quickly pushed the thought away, unlatching himself from her womanhood and, in one swift, agile motion, standing and spinning her around so she fell onto her back.
Getting the uncomfortable feeling that she was prey as he loomed over her, he shook his head, clearing his mind. His casual loose trousers fell to the floor, revealing him in all his glory before he climbed atop of the suddenly very shy human girl.
He knew he should ask, be sure she wanted to do this. She looked a little hesitant. Maybe it would be best if she said no.
But the words never left his mouth as he pressed himself at her entrance.
Knowing to go slow, be as gentle as he could manage, he pushed inside with difficulty, finding her extremely tight and he gasped when he pushed past her virgin barrier. His body trembled, the scent of her intoxicating blood stronger now that it leaked from where they were connected.
Tears of pain fell down Constance's cheeks, grabbing his attention over the blood long enough for him to think about it. If he pulled out now, he would see the blood and lose all control. So instead, he pressed his lips to her cheek, tasting the salty tears she cried.
A soft whimper escaped her lips when he moved slowly inside her, fighting his feral instincts to pound her senseless. Continuing his slow motions, Constance began to adjust and forget the soft stinging between her legs, allowing James to quicken his pace to a more constant speed.
She clutched his toned biceps as he drove himself in and out of her. She tried to match his rhythm with her own hips, not wanting James, who was clearly experienced, to see her as some pathetic little girl. She wanted him to love her back, take her away to France, or Spain, or America, marry her and begin a family.
As his climax built, her smell invaded his senses more so than ever. Resistance was becoming nearly impossible. Her back arched into him, pushing her breasts against his chest, which was slick with the sweat from her torso. Her head tilted back in this simple motion, a mere gesture to be closer to him, but this had been the fatal mistake, for it completely exposed her neck and James could almost hear the thick vein pumping her succulent life.
It was when he reached his peak, that one moment of clouded desire, that he tore into her neck, greedily orgasming as he devoured the most amazing, incomparable blood he had ever tasted.
The warm liquid flowed down his throat like the finest wine. He knew he would never taste anything this delicious again. Savoring the flavor, he slowed his feasting, feeling her hands loosen from his hair, one dropping to the side and thumping onto the mattress, ultimately breaking his trance.
James ripped his mouth away from the girl, staring down at her, unbelieving of what had just happened. What had he done? He hadn't even heard her scream, her pleas for him to stop. "Constance?" he begged his still lover, her glazed blue eyes staring blankly to the side. He lifted her head, trying to shake her awake before letting her go, her head lifelessly falling back to the mattress and tilting to the side.
James' hand hesitantly pressed the pulse on her wrist, finding it to be still. The lack of life made James push himself up, horrified as he stumbled backwards and fell into the wall. He slid to the floor, his elbows on his knees as he cradled his head in his hands, willing himself to cry tears he knew he couldn't produce.
He escaped later that night, taking her limp body with him and seeking shelter in a distant forest. He cradled her in his arms while he sat for three grueling days, praying, anticipating her change to begin. In order to turn someone into a vampire, you had to leave enough blood for them to survive the transformation though. James knew this, but a shred of artificial confidence kept him holding onto the corpse as all warmth and color drained from her beautiful, soft skin.
Her lips were now a pale shade of blue instead of the soft pink they had normally been, her natural flush completely gone, instead her cheeks looking rather hollow. By the fifth day, for which he waited out of false hope, her sweet aroma had completely disappeared and was beginning to stink of rot.
A full week passed before James finally accepted what he had done. He had killed the girl he loved, the temptation of the sweetest blood he knew he would ever taste too much for him to overcome. Though he had never deprived himself of human blood, he hadn't considered himself cruel, praying on the criminal or diseased. But now he saw he would never be able to resist. He would never be redeemed. He was a monster, created by the devil himself and would have to live on this Earth forever, the trust and love in her eyes only for him burned into his memory and how he destroyed it in one moment of weakness.
Years later, James realized it was thought Constance had run off with him after the news of her betrothal. How he wished it were so. After that day, James' humanity diminished until the only bit that existed was locked away in the depths of his still, black heart.
James would not allow Edward Cullen to have what he couldn't. Bella Swan would die, slowly, painfully and soon.
Jasper had been disturbed by the almost serene look on James' decapitated head.
Emmett had not noticed as it became engulfed in flames.
Edward had known James' reason all along.