Places| A Twilight Fan Fiction|

Chapter 10

Rosalie

I couldn't stop staring at the circular shape of my bite on her neck. She was busy banding her hair into a knot atop her head, brushing away the few strands that always managed to escape, as she sipped warm coffee from a chipped black mug. Her easel was out. I watched, entranced, as she dipped her paintbrush into a shade of pale gold and smeared it with careless strokes across the blank canvas.

We were in her room, partially hiding out from the judgment of Carlisle and partially because she had insisted.

As for the judgment, I could hardly care less. I'd take it and continue being merry. It had been the most thrilling, reckless night of my existence. I thought back to the taste of her blood, my first ever experience drinking from a human, and the instant ecstasy that had swarmed my veins.

"Babe?" Her sweet voice jerked me back to reality.

"Yes?" She was wearing a ratty, ill-fitting shirt and paint-splattered jeans. Beautiful, glowing. Marked. Mine and Emmett's for eternity. Her eyes never left the canvas, but she gestured at me with her now empty mug.

"Can you get me more coffee from the kitchen?" I would have done anything for her. I rose and took the cup, kissing the top of her head as I passed. She smelled of my shampoo. All but gliding down the rickety steps, I found Emmett on his hands and knees, scrubbing the kitchen floor.

"What on earth are you doing?"

"Place is filthy," he muttered, grumpily. "I'm not letting our mate walk on floors this sticky." It was so sweet that I sighed, audibly, and had him glowering. Amused, I grabbed the coffee pot from beside the sink and refilled Marley's mug. Then stared down at the cream and sugar in puzzlement.

"Em? How does she take her—"

"Two spoons sugar, splash of cream." He rose to swipe at his forehead as if sweating. "Okay. Clean." Indeed, the floor looked marginally better than it had when we arrived. I doctored Marley's coffee the way she liked and took Emmett's hand in mine.

"Come watch our Mate paint with me," I said, earning a faint smile in response.

"Our Mate," he echoed, dreamily.

"Your Mate would like her coffee, please!" Marley called from her perch by the window, making me laugh. She was totally in her element when she painted; I'd never seen anything like it. There was a paintbrush behind her ear and a pink smudge across her forehead. She barely acknowledged me as I handed her the mug other than to let out a sort of chirp and continue layering paint onto the canvas.

"Are you painting our bed?" Emmett asked, incredulous, coming to stand behind her. I looked closer and could see the colors of our comforter, the start of scattered pillows taking shape.

"I'm painting last night," she mumbled, gulping down coffee. My interest piqued anew, I watched as she splattered little flecks of red, smearing them across the pinkey gold, and began the rough outlines of our nude bodies. "Need to wait for this layer to dry..." The muttering gave way to another sip, and then she finally looked back at Emmett and I, where we stood expectantly. "Are you guys going to hide out from Carlisle here all day?"

"Oh yeah," Emmett answered at once, flopping down onto her bed. "I'm not in the mood for a lecture yet."

"I'm sure he'll be gentler than you imagine," she said with an amused half-smile. "He doesn't seem to be the type to yell." She had a point, but I still shuddered to think of how I would explain our red eyes to the saint-like coven leader.

Oh, sorry, Carlisle, we drank her blood in a fit of passion. She was begging, how could we refuse? I had spent years honing my restraint. I had killed for revenge, but I had been so repulsed by the bloodlust, thinking it made me a monster, that I hadn't succumbed to the desire to feast from my victims. But with Marley...it was a different story, more fueled by lust than by her blood.