"What happened then?" she asked eagerly while removing her eyes from the painting and meeting my gaze, "When he realized what had happened to him?"

My eyes moved from her face to another painting. She followed my gaze. "When he knew what he had become," I said in a low voice, "he rebelled against it. He tried to destroy himself. But that's not easily done."

"How?" Bella asked with shock present on her face.

I contained a sigh, "He jumped from great heights," my voice stoic, "He tried to drown himself in the ocean...but he was young to the new life, and very strong. It is amazing that he was able to resist...feeding...while he was still so new. The instinct is more powerful then, it takes over everything. But he was so repelled by himself that he had the strength to try to kill himself with starvation," I explained.

I knew at any moment she would comprehend my words and descend the stairs and quickly exit the house.

"Is that possible?" she asked darkly.

"No, there are very few ways we can be killed."

I saw her open her mouth and I rushed to get the words about before she could ask me another question, "So he grew very hungry, and eventually weak. He strayed as far as he could from the human populace, recognizing that his willpower was weakening, too. For months he wandered by night, seeking the loneliest places, loathing himself

"One night, a herd of deer passed his hiding place. He was so wild with thirst that he attacked without a thought. His strength returned and he realized there was an alternative to being the vile monster he feared. Had he not eaten venison in his former life? Over the next months his new philosophy was born. He could exist without being a demon. He found himself again.

"He began to make better use of his time. He'd always been intelligent, eager to learn. Now he had unlimited time before him. He studied by night, planned by day. He swam to France and -"

"He swam to France?" Bella shrieked incredulously.

I had to compose my face because I was trying desperately not to laugh at her reaction, "People swim the Channel all the time, Bella," I reminded her.

She blinked foolishly, "That's true, I guess," shock was evident in her eyes still, "It just sounded funny in that context. Go on."

"Swimming is easy for us -"

"Everything is easy for you," she interrupted, a little perturbed.

I paused, waiting for her to ask another question. The look on her face was very comical. Her mouth hung open a little and her eyes were wide with surprise. She was quick to perceive my obvious reason for hesitating before I continued, "I won't interrupt again, I promise," she said with a small smile.

I laughed because I knew that she would interrupt again when she hears what I have to say next, "Because, technically, we don't need to breathe," I began until Bella burst out, "You - "

"No, no, you promised," I laughed because I knew that when she heard this bit of information that her reaction would be exactly what it was now. Her face was screwed up in longing to finish her questioning. I brought my finger to her lip to silence her, "Do you want to hear the story or not?"

She spoke with my finger pressed lightly against her warm lips, "You can't spring something like that on me, and then expect me not to say anything." Her voice was mumbled, trying to speak past my silencing finger. I traced my finger down her jaw and stopped at her neck. My stomach did summer-salts when her pulse speed by my touch. I had momentarily forgotten about the story or where we were. It was just Bella and I, together.

"You don't have to breathe?" her eyes were still wide with interested; her question bringing me to the present.

"No," I answered, instantly nervous that this proclamation would be the thing that scares her away, "it's not necessary. Just a habit." I shrugged, showing her how little it really mattered.

She dropped her voice, almost conspiratorially, "How long can you go...without breathing?"

"Indefinitely, I suppose; I don't know. It gets a bit uncomfortable - being without a sense of smell." I tried to explain very nonchalantly.

"A bit uncomfortable," she mirrored.

I continued to look at her face. Each expression fluttered across with little time to settle. Her eyebrows pulled together and I wanted to take my thumb and smooth out the complexity lines. Trying to understand her thoughts was like trying to read sign language unknown to humans.

A new speculation loomed in my mind. I removed my hand from her, letting the cold return. Something was eating at me from the inside. I was bringing her into this mythical world. Each new revelation bringing her closer to the doom I was prepared to fight. Bella's face grew very grave. She was watching my expressions now, "What is it?" she asked gently.

She brought her hand to my face, trying to comfort me. I felt each pump of her blood. Her hand warmed my cheek to several degrees than my normal temperature. I sighed because I knew that I was inviting her to tempt fate and that I would allow it.

"I keep waiting for it to happen." I said quietly.

"For what to happen?" she asked urgently.

"I know that at some point, something I tell you or something you see is going to be too much. And then you'll run away from me, screaming as you go," I pasted a smile across my face, trying to ease the tension building inside me, "I won't stop you. I want this to happen, because I want you to be safe. And yet, I want to be with you. The two desires are impossible to reconcile..." I kept my eyes fixed on her, waiting for her to agree with me and just leave.

There was a long and painful silence before either of us spoke again.

"I'm not running anywhere," Bella promised with obvious triumph in her voice, like she was looking fate in the eye and taunting it.

I remembered the story, and thought that if I continued maybe, just maybe, she would hear something that would scare her away, "We'll see," I smiled.

Her lips turned down at the corners, a frown forming on her face, "So, go on - Carlisle was swimming to France."

I caught my breath, delighting in the ever present yearning in my stomach. I moved my gaze from her face to another painting deciding to continue, "Carlisle swam to France," I repeated, "and continued on through Europe, to the universities there. By night he studied music, science, medicine - and found his calling, his penance, in that, in saving human lives. I can't adequately describe the struggle; it took Carlisle two centuries of torturous effort to prefect his self-control. Now he is all but immune to the scent of human blood, and he is able to do the work he loves without agony. He finds a great deal of peace there, at the hospital..." I trailed off, my thoughts moving in a different direction.