Seismic Shift Chapter 2

I knew I did from that first moment we met.

It was… not love at first sight exactly, but-

familiarity. Like: oh, hello, it's you.

It's going to be you.

~Mhairi McFarlane

“By all the gods and saints, Jesus and his disciples and anything else you might or might not believe in! You scared me!”

“Who are you?”  

“Did you just hiss at me?” I jumped down off the moss covered rock and sauntered to the middle of the clearing like he hadn't just stopped my heart and kick-started it again. “The better question is who are you?” I spun to face him, not surprised that he'd silently followed me.

“I have never seen you before, and I know each and every resident of Forks,” he basically snarled at me, which only brought my attention to his expressive mouth.

“Oh, well that's an easy one.” I folded my arms across my breasts and stared him down. Man, was he attractive. “I don't live in Forks.”

That seemed to bring him up short. “Then why are you here?”

“You might have been alive during the Spanish Inquisition, but I'm not that old. What's with all the questions?” I plopped down in the grass and folded my legs up in front of me. Despite the season and the sun, it was never more than slightly warm here in this region of Washington, except in the summer when the humidity could choke you. I was wearing jeans and sneakers, a tank top and a plaid overshirt. This guy, however, was in jeans and what appeared to be a sweater under his peacoat.

He sniffed the air as though he was examining my scent. “You are not like anyone else I have met. Where did you come from?” He was still standing there, looking down at me with this crazy expression on his avenging angel’s face.

“Ain't that a question for the ages. Did you miss the weather report this morning? It's sixty degrees, not forty.”

“I… just came back from a trip.” Now he looked perplexed at my change of subject, which I found amusing.

“Sure you did. Did you run home?” I had to squint to look at him with the sun behind him glowing like a halo.

“From my trip? Why would I do that?” he was sounding more and more exasperated the more I dominated the conversation.

“Because you're a vampire, of course. That would be the- hey!” I hollered at him when he moved with that unnatural speed again, grabbing my forearm as he leaned way too close into my personal space.

“Who. Are. You? Who sent you? Why are you here?” he growled angrily. The meadow became eerily silent; all the creatures great and small knew to fear this terrifying being.

Except, he wasn't hurting me. I didn't even think it would have hurt if I'd been a run of the mill human, but he made it extremely clear he was furious. “Get your hands off me, calm the fuck down, and then maybe we can talk!” I shouted, unfazed by his temper but unwilling to be manhandled.

He was instantly across the meadow, looking contrite. Incrementally, his eyes lightened around the edges, morphing into an amber shade until his pupils were almost a normal size. “I apologize. I should never have laid a hand on you. I thought-” He stopped himself and looked down, his expression one of shame.

“You thought I was sent to lure you in? To charm you into coming with me so the pack could tear you limb from limb? That's not really my style.”

“You are not Quileute,” he stated quietly.

“No, but I live with them.” I didn't hesitate in my response. It was obvious he knew about the Quileute pack, so there was no use denying it.

He moved nearer. Not very much, just enough to step away from the shelter of the trees. There was a subtle glint of refracted light that bounced off what little of his pale skin was exposed. “You speak of the pack so casually.”

I rolled my eyes. “I mean, I know it's a secret and all, but you're kind of in on the secret,” I whispered the last part.

He stepped forward again, with grace that reminded me of the mountain lion. Thank the gods I wasn't a lamb, or he just might devour me. “But you are not one of them? A shifter?”

“What makes you say that?” I wondered. He couldn’t possibly know for sure.

“You do not smell like a rabid dog that has been traipsing through a swamp and left to bake in the sun for a week.”

I laughed indelicately. “And you don't smell like an over chlorinated pool. I wonder why that is?”

He crept closer. “You can… smell me?”

“Yep.”

“So you are. A shifter, that is.” He sank fluidly to the ground in front of me, and my body instinctively leaned toward his.

“I am, but I didn't come from the tribe. I came from...  the north.” That was as close to the truth as anything.

“I am truly sorry for touching you earlier. It was unacceptable.” His face was a mask of contrition.

I shrugged. “Eh, you felt threatened. Just don't let it happen again. I'd hate to break your fingers.” I grinned winningly.  

He looked shocked, his eyebrows lifting into his hairline. “But my skin-”

“Yeah, yeah, hard as stone and twice as durable. Werewolf, remember?” I said, pointing to myself.  

“I find you fascinating,” he admitted, and a breeze fluttered his auburn hair. I stared at him as he stared at me, mesmerized by his angles and sharp features.

“Uh, what?” Not really the best retort, but I was truly baffled that he found me fascinating.

He laughed, and it brightened my whole day to hear the beautiful sound. “What is your name?”

“Isabella- Bella.”

“My name is Edward. Edward Cullen.”

I smiled in latent recognition. “You're part of the coven they warn me away from all the time.”

Edward's brow furrowed. “Do they? But my family has a treaty agreement with them that I would never jeopardize.”

“Yeah. They seem to think you'd eat one of us if we ran into you off the reservation. Clearly I don't think so, or I wouldn't be here.”

He caught a strand of my hair between his long, pale fingers as it blew in the wind. He was sitting close enough now that our knees bumped. It made me yearn for skin to skin contact, to cup his prominent cheekbone in my hand and rub my thumb under his eye where it looked slightly bruised.

“We have always been peaceful, but there was a pair of nomads in their history that were violent. It is understandable that they should be wary. They have no reason to trust my family.” I realized a little dreamily that I could listen to his voice all day.

“So what do you… eat? If you're peaceful.” I felt my heart beating faster, and figured he could hear it as it raced. There would be few secrets between us, I realized a little wryly.

“Animals. They are plenty, here in the forest. Deer, mostly. The occasional mountain lion. My brother prefers bear,” he chuckled, as though there was an inside joke.

“What is your family like?” I found myself wanting to know everything about him.

“Let me see. Carlisle came first; he is my creator, and then he created Esme, his wife. Carlisle is a doctor at the hospital in Forks. Esme works on architectural designs online under a pseudonym. Then there was Rosalie. Carlisle saved her, and a few years later she saved Emmett, the brother that enjoys wrestling bears. My last two siblings joined us as an established couple; Alice and Jasper.” He looked pensive for a moment after his brief description.

“It's interesting that you refer to them as your siblings. You're a family, not a coven, aren't you?”

Edward smiled. “We are. We have bonds like any other family would. I know your tribe has painted us as heathens, but we truly are not.”

“I never believed you were. After all, there wouldn't be anything stopping you from breaking the treaty if you were as ruthless as they paint you. You have the advantage, obviously.”

“Do we, Bella?” Long unused parts of me tingled at the way his tongue caressed my name.

“If you were intent on destruction, yes,” I breathed.

“And would you give away the maneuvers of the tribe?” he murmured, and it was suddenly as if he was testing me and my loyalty.

I sat back, breaking the spell he seemed to have me under. “No, not even close.” I had to take a deep breath to steady myself, and I caught that honey and leather scent of his again. “Even though I don't think you have malicious intent, I'll not betray the people that care for me.”

“Fair enough.” He watched a tiny yellow butterfly floating in the distance. Sweat trickled down my back. “I suppose I should pay more attention to the weather before leaving the house, lest I draw unnecessary attention to myself.” He gave me a self-deprecating smile that broke the tension surrounding us.

I laughed lightly. “That's probably a good idea.” I played with the grass for a moment, letting the blades slide between my fingers. “Will you come back here?”

“I come here all the time,” he replied.

I frowned. “Really? So do I.” I'd never run into him before, so why now?

He stood, an incredibly graceful movement that reminded me of the lion again. “Until next time,” he said, extending a hand down to help me up.

I accepted it, and I was completely shocked at the temperature of his skin. He should have felt cold, freezing even, against my heightened warmth. Instead, he felt… right.

He looked down at our clasped hands in consternation, then gently tugged me to a standing position. I simply stared at his face until he glanced up at me, eyes black again. Something inside me recoiled, but I wasn't afraid of him. I was fascinated, to use his word.

“Bye,” I whispered, and he was gone from the meadow, leaving me longing for his touch.