Midnight Sun (The Twilight Saga #5) - Stephenie Meyer Page 0,175

a more vertical path.

Another new, joyous experience. I’d always loved to run—for nearly a hundred years, it had been my purest physical happiness. But now, sharing this with her, no distance between us bodily or psychically, I realized how much more pleasure there could be in simply running than I’d ever imagined. I wondered if it thrilled her as much as it did me.

One qualm nagged at me. I’d been in a hurry to get her home as soon as that seemed to be her wish. However… surely we should have concluded that most momentous interlude with a proper finale, a sort of seal on our new understanding? A benediction. But I’d been too hasty to realize it was missing until we were already in motion.

It wasn’t too late. My system was electrified again as I thought of it: a true kiss. Once I’d assumed it impossible. Once I’d mourned that this impossibility seemed to hurt her as well as me. Now I was sure it was both possible… and fast approaching. The electricity ricocheted around the inside of my stomach and I wondered why humans had thought to name such a wild sensation butterflies.

I slowed to a smooth stop just a few paces from where she’d parked.

“Exhilarating, isn’t it?” I asked, eager for her reaction.

She didn’t respond, and her limbs retained their taut grip around my waist and neck. A few quiet seconds passed with no answer. What was wrong?

“Bella?”

Her breath came in a gasp, and I realized that she’d been holding it. I should have noticed that.

“I think I need to lie down,” she said faintly.

“Oh.” I was in dire need of practice with human. I hadn’t even thought of the possibility of motion sickness. “I’m sorry.”

I waited for her to release her hold, but she didn’t relax one locked muscle.

“I think I need help,” she whispered.

With slow, gentle movements I freed first her legs, then her arms, and pulled her around so that I was holding her cradled against my chest.

The state of her complexion alarmed me at first, but I had seen this same chalky green before. I’d held her in my arms that day, too, yet what a wholly different affair it was now.

I knelt down and set her on a soft patch of ferns.

“How do you feel?”

“Dizzy… I think.”

“Put your head between your knees,” I advised.

She complied automatically, as if this was a practiced response.

I sat beside her. Listening to her measured breathing, I found that I was more anxious than the situation merited. I knew this was nothing serious, just a bit of queasiness, and yet… seeing her pale and ill bothered me more than was reasonable.

A few moments later, she lifted her head experimentally. She was still pale, but not as green. A faint sheen of sweat covered her brow.

“I guess that wasn’t the best idea,” I muttered, feeling like an ass.

She smiled a wan smile. “No, it was very interesting,” she lied.

“Hah,” I huffed sourly. “You’re as white as a ghost—no, you’re as white as me.”

She took a slow breath. “I think I should have closed my eyes.” As she said the words, her lids followed suit.

“Remember that next time.” Her color was improving, and my tension eased in direct correlation with the pink infusing her cheeks.

“Next time?” She groaned theatrically.

I laughed at her sham scowl.

“Show-off,” she muttered. Her lower lip jutted out, rounded and full. It looked incredibly soft. I imagined how it would give, bringing us even closer.

I rolled to my knees, facing her. I felt nervous, and restless, and impatient, and unsure. The yearning to be closer to her reminded me of the thirst that used to control me. This, too, was demanding, impossible to ignore.

Her breath was hot against my face. I leaned closer.

“Open your eyes, Bella.”

She complied slowly, looking up at me through her dense lashes for a moment before lifting her chin so that our faces were aligned.

“I was thinking, while I was running…” My voice trailed off; this was not the most romantic beginning.

Her eyes narrowed. “About not hitting the trees, I hope.”

I chuckled as she tried to hold back a grin. “Silly Bella. Running is second nature to me. It’s not something I have to think about.”

“Show-off,” she repeated, with more emphasis this time.

We were off topic. It was surprising this was even possible, close as our faces were. I smiled and redirected.

“No, I was thinking there was something I wanted to try.”

I put my hands lightly on either side of her face,