Is It Really You?| Alec Volturi

Chapter 18

After spending a while in the guard room, Alec went to go tell The Cullens and Bella that they could leave. Also, I went to the library after walking around for a while. I picked up Macbeth, sat down and started to read it.

After a few minutes, Alec walked into the library and picked up a book after looking around. He sat down in the chair opposite mine. I noticed how good he looks now. I was trying not to stare because he would question it so I tried to focus on the play.

A few minutes later, I noticed Alec was staring at me with a puzzled look.

"What?" I asked.

"I don't know. You're confusing. Jane is best friends with you and she has for apparently years, so I'm trying to figure out who you are," he replied.

"Wow. You are oblivious," I said, chuckling.

"What?" Alec asked smiling, still confused.

"I'm Kira," I told him slowly.

"I know that. Kira Cullen. Well, now Volturi because you joined," he said in the same slow tone as me.

"Oh my god!" I exclaimed.

"What!"

"My original name was Kira Gray! I'm around 1,206 years old and we used to date."I told him.

"What? Kira?" He asked.

"Hi, Alec."

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Meanwhile with Edward, Alice and Bella

Bella's POV

The dark road was the hardest part; the bright lights at the airport in Florence made it easier, as did the chance to brush my teeth and change into clean clothes; Alice bought Edward new clothes, too, and he left the dark cloak on a pile of trash in an alley. The plane trip to Rome was so short that there wasn't really a chance for the fatigue to drag me under. I knew the flight from Rome to Atlanta would be another matter entirely, so I asked the flight attendant if she could bring me a Coke.

"Bella," Edward said disapprovingly. He knew my low tolerance for caffeine.

Alice was behind us. I could hear her murmuring to Jasper on the phone.

"I don't want to sleep," I reminded him. I gave him an excuse that was believable because it was true. "If I close my eyes now, I'll see things I don't want to see. I'll have nightmares."

He didn't argue with me after that.

It would have been a very good time to talk, to get the answers I needed—needed but not really wanted; I was already despairing at the thought of what I might hear. We had an uninterrupted block of tirre ahead of us, and he couldn't escape me on an airplane—well, not easily, at least. No one would hear us except Alice; it was late, and most of the passengers were turning off lights and asking for pillows in muted voices. Talk would help me fight off the exhaustion.

But, perversely, I bit my tongue against the flood of questions. My reasoning was probably flawed by exhaustion, but I hoped that by postponing the discussion, I could buy a few more hours with him at some later time—spin this out for another night, Scheherazade-style.

So I kept drinking soda, and resisting even the urge to blink. Edward seemed perfectly content to hold me in his arms, his fingers tracing my face again and again. I touched his face, too. I couldn't stop myself, though I was afraid it would hurt me later, when I was alone again. He continued to kiss my hair, my forehead, my wrists ...but never my lips, and that was good. After all, how many ways can one heart be mangled and still be expected to keep beating? I'd lived through a lot that should have finished me in the last few days, but it didn't make me feel strong. Instead, I felt horribly fragile, like one word could shatter me.