Prologue: Next Bite
A/N: This is an EPOV outtake I did for Fandom Fights the Floods. When I wrote this, I foresaw what I thought the rest of the story would be BPOV. However since then, Edward has not shut up, but neither has Bella, so it will be an alternating POV story.
I own nothing. Characters are all Stephenie Meyers' creations, I just enjoy torturing them. Kisses to CorrinaTFF for betaing this little baby for me & Gabbysway2 for pre-reading. Thank you too to Robrator for my beautiful banner (http :/ yfrog. com / h0znr8j)
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~ Many times been loved, and many times been bitten ~
~ Led Zeppelin ~
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- EPOV -
My name is Edward Masen, and I am a prick. I know that might sound like some form of self-deprecating remark, but it's actually not. The fact of the matter is that I am an unrelenting, unapologetic, pain in the ass, prick. I know this because I am told…repeatedly. Not a day goes by when I don't hear it hurled at me by at least one person—albeit mentally. Sometimes it is because I cut them off with my car—stolen more often than not—or because I pushed past them roughly in the street, but mostly it was because I stole their girl. I got that last one a lot, because females never resisted me; never resisted and never escaped.
I was a hunter, and I preferred my meat—or more specifically blood—young, tender, and female. The only thing that came close to the thrill of the hunt—the seduction—was the claiming of my prize; the moment when I brought a girl to climax and sunk my teeth into her throat simultaneously. Nothing beat the sensation of blood, sweetened by endorphins and pumping hard from exertion, pouring into my mouth as I poured my seed into a still warm body.
Once upon a time, I had lived a different life; more peaceful but also exponentially more boring. It had taken almost ten years before I had broken off from my sire—my father as he had called himself. His life had been one of abstinence, in all its forms. My extra talent granted me insight into his mind, so I knew his intentions were good and his desire…companionship. But then he had fallen in love with a young woman and changed her to be his mate, suddenly, I was no longer required. I felt as though I had been cast-off while the two lovers spent hours wrapped in one another's embrace. I had quickly grown tired of being the third wheel, so I broke free from them to find a life of my own.
For a few years, I lived the life of a vigilante. I was a superhero roaming the streets and protecting the innocent. Yeah, I was a tool. I thought it was the best way to balance my desire for blood with my lingering human morals. That is until I met Evelyn.
Upon meeting her, I thought Evelyn to be simply the most ravishing creature I had ever encountered. Her blood smelled sweet, almost like a desert. From the first time I had encountered her aroma, I desired her, but I soon learned she had never committed a crime heinous enough to warrant my attention. At first, I did everything I could to stop myself from haunting her footsteps. She was my first in so many ways, and taught me that life was better lived without morals. It was a slow lesson, but one well worth it in the end. She had unknowingly changed me.
She was a harlot who plied her trade on the streets of my hunting ground. For weeks, her luscious scent distracted me while on the hunt for genuine wrongdoers. I would reluctantly feed on blood that smelt atrocious and was filled with impurities and booze while being teased by her heady aroma. I couldn't know for sure, of course, but I would liken it to eating brussel sprouts while being surrounded by the scent of roasting beef. It was maddening, almost to the point where I considered giving up and returning to the 'vegetarian' lifestyle. I thought for a while that if I couldn't have her, I didn't want anyone, but I wasn't quite ready to give up human blood.
I finally had my first glimpse of her beauty early one evening after trailing her scent, because I could no longer stand the distance. Her dark hair was cut into a short bob which surrounded a synthetically pale face, ruby red lips, and dark eyes that were filled with secrets. Her soft body was wrapped in a loose red dress that boyishly belied her delicate curves, the top barely skimming over a set of knee-high black stockings held aloft by a suspender belt. A pair of small high heels adorned her feet, elevating her height slightly.
She was learning on a wall with one leg cocked underneath of her—the heel of her shoe resting just below her perfect ass—utterly at ease and full of confidence. Her fingers caressed a long cigarette holder, which she put to her mouth and sucked hard, before blowing out a thick, smoky breath. The sight of her mouth in motion stirred up feelings in me that I immediately recognised as lust—an emotion I had often seen in the minds of the men that I hunted. I suddenly wanted her for more than just her blood; I wanted her body, but I couldn't even begin to think about claiming either one. I wanted her too much to walk away, but I wasn't quite willing to let go vestiges of my humanity to take an innocent life.
"Hi, honey, you lost?" she asked through another breath. He's a good-looking one, much better than the usual clientele. A bit jumpy though.
She had obviously mistaken my inner conflict for nerves or perhaps a moral conflict of another nature.
"I shouldn't be here…" I murmured, but my body betrayed me and took one step closer to her.
She kicked off the wall. Looks like he needs me to lead here. "Honey, it's nothing to be ashamed of…"
I shook my head. "I'm not…I just shouldn't be here. It's not right."
He is quite handsome. Maybe… She raised her hand and rested it on my cheek. "Tell you what, Honey. I'll even give you a freebie." She pressed her lips against mine.
I closed my eyes, overtaken by my dual desires. I could smell the change in her scent as her body grew slightly aroused as she kissed me. It made the battle between my morality and my desires infinitely more intense.
She pulled her face away from mine, and I growled softly at the loss, my desire winning control of my body. She turned and positioned herself back on the wall. "If you want more…it will cost you."
"How much?" I grunted beyond caring because I knew I had to have her. To have such a wicked assault of my senses was one thing, to have it snatched away so suddenly was too much to bear.
Five dollars? I thought it seemed a little excessive for a back-street hooker, even if her aroma was mouth-watering. Then I realised it didn't matter, because the dead didn't chase debts. And I knew that she was going to end up dead, it was the only outcome that could arise from our encounter. I knew if I tried to claim her body, I would drink from her.
I nodded to acknowledge my acceptance of the price.
She smiled and walked back toward me, reaching for me with an outstretched hand. Once our fingers were entwined, she pulled me back down the alleyway and through a tiny door in the wall. We trailed up a staircase, my mind already tracing all the escape routes and planning the disposal of her corpse. If I was going to go through with it, I was going to do it right. Carlisle, my sire, had taught me proper 'table' manners—even if he had only meant it to be used for the disposal of carrion. But to me, the little tomato leading me through the seemingly empty house was little more than livestock in that moment.
We arrived in a small bedroom, vacant aside from the double bed with pressed white linen. I eyed the walls, bare and beige. The room screamed anonymity which suited me perfectly.
"Gosh, your hands are cold," she murmured as she turned back to me. "Perhaps I can warm them?"
She pressed my hands on her thighs, just under the hemline of her skirt. I was surprised, and slightly disappointed, by the lack of foreplay. She smiled and nodded encouragingly, and I realised that she wanted me to just take her, to use her however I wanted. She was used to that kind of treatment.
She started as my cool fingertips trailed up and down the length of her creamy thigh. I traced along the tops of her stockings.
I had no idea what I was doing, but the combination of a new rush of hormones and the bloodlust settling over me were driving me insane. My humanity was fast sliding out of view, but I didn't want to be a complete monster. I wanted to please her as penance for what she was about to sacrifice for me. I was determined to give her an experience unlike any she had had before. I pulled my hands away from her legs and began to fumble at her chest. I felt woefully inadequate as I pushed the material of her dress aside and took one of her breasts in my hand.
She gasped. "You're still so cold," she murmured.
"You'll have to warm me," I said, touching my lips to hers.
She began to drag me over to the bed, but I shook my head; it was too intimate for me. I didn't want to imagine any intimacy—not while I was planning murder. I needed to keep my head as much as I could if I was going to take what I wanted from her.
I listened to her mind as I moved my hands across her breasts, learning from her reaction to my touch. Where I started as boring and inadequate, I soon had her mewling at my touch.
I turned us around and pushed her against the wall, pressing myself between her legs and kissing her more forcefully. I continued to follow the road map her mind was providing, overriding my own desires for the moment. I dipped my head to taste her, running my tongue along her skin. My chest rumbled in delight, and I had to snap my mouth shut to prevent myself from biting immediately into her soft, smooth skin. The proximity of her blood made my mouth pool with venom, but I managed to swallow away the bitter taste, promising myself that my thirst would soon be quenched.
I took a deep breath, savouring her scent, before risking the use of my mouth again. I traced my tongue lower down onto her chest, before clasping the material that still covered her front with one hand and then tearing it off. I heard her complaint begin in her mind, but soothed her with a well placed hand and a whispered, "I'll pay for all damages."
After she thought she would be getting additional money all of her protests fell away, long before they were ever actually voiced. In truth, she liked it a little rough. She made no secret of that fact in her mind—in fact, her mind held no secrets from me at all.
I tore at her dress again, ripping the remaining shreds off her delicate body and palming her now exposed breasts.
"So tasty," I murmured against her skin. She had no idea I was referring to the promise of her blood and not her smooth, salty exterior.
I felt her heartbeat hammering against my lips as I moved my mouth down to caress her nipples one at a time. I knew I had her within my grasp and completely under my control, as she moaned rather than jumped when I grazed my teeth along the underside of her breast, allowing a few tiny drops of her blood to fall into my waiting mouth. I moaned along with her at the taste that dulled the fire in my throat for one tiny moment before re-igniting it, making it burn fiercer than before.
I stepped back from her for one tiny moment, just long enough to shed my clothes—no longer concerned for keeping up human appearances because Evelyn was too consumed with ecstasy to notice—before tearing at her panties, ripping them from her body, and pushing myself back between her legs.
I lost my virginity hard and fast, it was over nearly too soon. Evelyn had cried out almost as soon as I had entered her, panting hard as she came around me. Not knowing how intense the experience would be, I followed quickly after. I clutched at her shoulder as I rode out my ecstatic wave. I hadn't even realised my teeth had pierced her until it hit me that my euphoria was two-fold; blood and sex in a perfect union. I felt remorse in the end, casting my eye over the crimson stains on the crisp white sheets and the ones that crossed the beige walls. I could have made the decision then and there to write off Evelyn as a once-off and swear never to do it again, but my regret wasn't for the loss of her life, or the way she had been sacrificed, it was that so much precious liquid had been wasted in the process.
Evelyn was my first; the first time I had sliced through innocent skin to taste the pure blood beneath, the first time I had enjoyed the sensations of the carnal delights of the skin, and the first time I had felt a body cool while I held it bared skin against me in a lover's caress. The first…but by no means the last.
After Evelyn, picking my victims had been anything but haphazard. I may have been a prick, but I was a discerning prick. I hunted about once every six months, always ensuring I selected the right bouquet and the right vintage. I had narrowed it down and knew that innocents around the age of seventeen had the best taste. Nothing beat the blood of a pure virgin.
Sometimes the pickings were thinner than others. The '60's for example, was a particularly hard decade. Free love and all that. Not to mention the drugs. Ugh, the taste of even the finest bouquet was marred by those horrid substances.
I began to work smarter, grooming my victims over the course of a few weeks, or in a couple of cases months, before they were ready to willingly offer me their sacrifice. Of course, they never completely understood the extent of their gift, but they never died unsatisfied.
I had seen my sire a few times over the years, each time his 'family' had grown and each time he tried to turn me back towards his preferred way of life. Without fail, I refused his requests. I was far too unwilling to give up the few precious meals I had each year. I didn't think it was too much to ask to take two sacrificial virgins for myself. After all, there were over six billion people in the world. Surely two young ladies wouldn't be missed.
Over the years, I had perfected my skills both in my accuracy—no longer was a single drop of my liquid ambrosia lost—and in my finesse. It was fair to say that even if my lovers did survive our trysts—which they never did—I would remain memorable as the best lover they had ever had. By killing them, I was being merciful. I was saving them from a lifetime of disappointment and pining away for just one more satisfying fuck.
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I first met my latest prey a number of years ago. She was, without doubt, the finest smelling morsel I had ever encountered. Ours had been a chance meeting. I was passing through Arizona one night when her bouquet assaulted me. I had tracked her to her house, desperately hoping that the body that matched the scent was just as inviting, but I was quickly disappointed when I saw her sleeping soundly. Not because she was unappealing—just the opposite in fact. She had everything I would usually look for in a lover—but she was too young; quite a few years too young. It seemed such a shame to let such a perfect feed go to waste.
I debated momentarily at just taking her blood without all the hoopla, but in the end, I refused to deny myself the full satisfaction of taking her sexually as I drank. I regretfully tore myself away from her house, all the while promising myself that I would keep track of the delicate morsel. I would find her, fuck her, and taste her when she came of age.
When I returned, a few short years later, she was gone and her house was vacant of her scent. I grew angry at her for leaving. Did she not realise I had waited so patiently for our reunion? I had spent a number of years with her scent dancing in my mind while I drank from other women—while I fucked other women—I wasn't about to let her go without at least trying to track her down.
I broke into the post office and found a forwarding address in Jacksonville, Florida. It was lucky that I had spent so much time over the years perfecting my patience, because it looked like I would be waiting once more.
I spent the next few weeks tracking down the address in Jacksonville, only to find the girl wasn't even there. I spent a few nights in reconnaissance at the address, soon learning from the mind of the mother that the girl had moved to the rainy town of Forks, Washington to live with her father. I growled in frustration as I realised that my prey had eluded me once again; but no more.
I stole a car and made my way to Forks, praying to a deity I had long turned my back on that nothing had happened in the interim years to make her scent—and ultimately her taste—any less appealing.
I crossed her scent quickly once I reached town and the force of it nearly knocked the wind from my chest. Puberty had been kind to Miss Isabella Swan—or perhaps fate had been cruel. Either way, I wound my way closer to her house, knowing that she would be my next meal—and perhaps the finest ever.
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A/N:- As per the AN up top, this will be a multi-chap fic. However, I want to finish of a few of my other WIPs before embarking too much further with this one. So posting is likely to be a little sporadic at first. Please check out the beautiful banner made by Robrator (she's all kinds of awesome with banners & backgrounds) and if you love it tell her so on twitter :)
As always, would love to know what you think. And for anyone worrying about where I might take this, please remember I seem to have a thing for angst, but I am generally a HEA girl at heart. Letters to You is just an...anomaly ;)