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Feral Bella Oneshots

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I definitely should’ve brought a map.

     Dark, heavy clouds gather across the sky, blocking the already weak afternoon sun. I repress a shiver, heading in what I hope is the right direction.

     If the sun’s setting in the west, then that way is East. And if that’s East, then…South is on its right. Wait, no, that’s wrong. The sun’s there, so…where is St. Helens again? Oh, never mind, I can’t see it anyway…. Which direction did I come from? Definitely East. The sun was in my eyes.

     I let out a frustrated huff and stoop, scraping away pine needles from the forest floor. Grabbing a short, sturdy stick lying nearby, I sketch out a compass in the dirt, then stand back.

     An inhuman scream sounds, distant but far too close for comfort. I startle, whipping around to stare in the direction it came from. There’s a thicket of low, thorny trees blocking the forest that way, tangled and only somewhat soaked. I try not to imagine eyes in the branches, looking back at the ground.

     “Okay, so that is West, meaning that is East, and this is South.” I stop, staring blankly at the foreboding cluster of trees I’m facing again. “And it doesn’t even matter where South is, because my car is east of here.” Being so eager to be a Boy Scout was to be my downfall; a quite ironic death, wouldn’t it be, overexposure to the elements?

     I tighten my coat around me, glancing again toward the sound’s source. Maybe a mountain lion taking down an ungulate? A hawk with a rabbit? I hoped fervently that the prey had big lungs and the scene was very far from me. I can’t help but replay it over and over; it sounds like a predator, upon reflection. I’m eager to leave, even more now. If I’m lost, so be it---as long as it’s far away from whatever that was.

     The wind picks up suddenly, switching and blowing the leaves toward the south with a near-deafening sound. It’s not bad on the floor, but strong enough to be uncomfortable.

     With a sigh, I take a quick swig of my water bottle---three-quarters gone, I note unhappily---and take a step forward. An explosion of sound, shrieking wood and heavy footsteps, sounds behind me.

     I haven’t set my foot on the ground before I’m yanked into the air by a crushing, freezing force.

     And just as quickly, it’s gone; I have a brief impression of a counterforce, of falling, before I’m hitting the ground, agony exploding throughout my lower back. I shift and cry out as a sharp zing runs through my thigh. Probably my sciatic. Wonderful.

     Then my eyes focus, and my mind goes blank.

     Two of the most perfect humans I’ve ever seen are in front of me, tensed as if to fight. A man and a woman---in my bewilderment, my mind jumps to the impossible, the absurd; Adam and Eve, reincarnated; avenging angels, ready to purge the world of sin; Fae, offended by the disruption of their sanctuary---and then they collide.

     I can’t see the impact, but the sound nearly splits my head in two.

     The man is in front of me, mere inches away. I shrink back quickly, terrified…and fascinated. When I push against my hands again, it’s merely instinct preventing me from reaching out with wondering fingers and touching him instead.

     He whips around to face me, his beautiful face pulled into a tight mask of annoyance. It’s the most gorgeous expression I’ve ever seen, and all I can do is stare. His eyes are so strange---golden, almost, metallic in a way I’ve never seen before, smoldering with emotion.

     “ Mine ,” the female hisses, and my attention is immediately off of the---as far as I can tell---good one. He hisses back, eyes still on me.

     “Stay still,” he says, low and soft. His voice isn’t at all what I was expecting, after hearing the noises they’d just made (like snakes, or cats, but big ones), and yet makes perfect sense; it’s a lithe harmony, just the right pitch to be irresistibly alluring, and beautiful. So beautiful.

     I listen, because what else can I do? I can’t even see the damn things move .

     “Bella, love, listen to me,” he says, facing the female. He steps forward, and I can see her clearly, though I’m embarrassed now. She’s almost entirely naked, just a few scraps of what once was obviously a very expensive dress covering her upper arm, her left hip. Her feet are bare, yet undamaged, despite the rough terrain. But her skin is perfect, flawless; faint stretch marks decorate her lower belly, and I’m floored. Are they hunting ? For a child ?

     Her full lips pull over perfect, glistening teeth. She takes a step forward, shaking the long brown tresses from her face. Her irises are a glowing red, but with the same shimmer as his. And her face is devastating. She can do whatever she’d like; I’m hers. I’m no longer terrified, but thrilled---whatever these two want, whatever they need, it’s theirs. 

     “He’s alive,” he says, soothing. I feel myself melting into the earth beneath me; the relaxation irritates the pain blooming throughout my pelvis. “He doesn’t need to die.”

     “He does!

     Another unholy reverberation as they collide again. I cover my ears and head, sinking into the dirt. A fierce hiss; they break apart, the male still in front of me. Bella, I guess, is nursing her arm---a fresh bite is visible beneath her fingers. No blood oozes from the wound. As I watch, she gingerly licks the site and the skin comes together, sealing as if it were never broken.

     “I’m so sorry, love.” This man sounds as if he were on the pyre, begging for his life. “I know that hurts.” He rubs a few bites of his own---ragged and open, yet not even red---absent-mindedly. “We need to go.”

     Throughout their conversation, they keep feigning, testing each other’s defenses. It’s so quick I barely notice; they look as if they’re vibrating.

     “I don’t have a choice; I have to have him.” She inhales sharply, her hand flying to her throat as if it were on fire. “I don’t want to hurt you.” A deep growl builds in her chest; her eyes fly to me as it rips its way out, nearly delirious with desire. My heart pounds in response, and she takes a half-step forward. Her eyes flit to him, narrowing. “Last warning, Edward. I’ll tear you apart. I can’t resist . He already has to die, anyway.”

     Edward nods his head, but avoids my eyes. His shoulders slump, and then a startling force hits me from the front. My head cracks against a rock, but the pain is nothing, nothing , to my jaw, my throat---

     I thrash, trying to break free. Thick brown hair suffocates me, and I’m coughing it up, swallowing it, and every movement brings fresh fire to my throat. The hair is liquid, hot, red--- Another cough, and I realize it’s blood as it sprays across my arm, fighting to get her off. My jaw is broken, I’m sure, courtesy of Bella’s ice-cold hand wrenching my skull to the side. I can feel the blood into her mouth, pumping down my shoulder. Broken, delighted gasps break free from her lips, and the pain starts to dim. Before I even realize it’s dark, my eyes are fluttering, trying to keep focus. It’s cold, freezing, and rain starts to pelt my face, pooling with blood in my gasping mouth.

     All I can do is be grateful that the unbearable pain is slowly fading along with me.

     And I sink.