"Poor vampire not being able to dream," Jacob said.
Maybe, if I could be unconscious, if I could dream, I could live for a few hours in a world where she and I could be together. She dreamed of me. I wanted to dream of her.
She stared back at me, her expression full of wonder. I had to look away.
I could not dream of her. She should not dream of me.
"You haven't asked me the most important question yet," I said, my silent chest colder and harder than before. She had to be forced to understand. At some point, she would have to realize what she was doing now. She must be made to see that this all did matter - more than any other consideration. Considerations like the fact that I loved her.
"Um... what question is he talking about?" Jacob asked and Bella shrugged.
"Which one is that?" she asked, surprised and unaware.
This only made my voice harder. "You aren't concerned about my diet?"
"Oh. That." She spoke in a quiet tone that I couldn't interpret.
"Yes, that. Don't you want to know if I drink blood?"
She cringed away from my question. Finally. She was understanding.
"Well, Jacob said something about that," she said.
Bella flinched at the mention of Jacob's name, but Jacob really was over that now. Or at least he wasn't going to waste energy on getting worked up about it again. "It looks like I told you about their vegetarian ways," he said.
"What did Jacob say?"
"He said you didn't...hunt people. He said your family wasn't supposed to be dangerous because you only hunted animals."
"That seems to be a bit nicer than what I would say," Jacob said.
"Really?" Bella questioned.
"Yeah... I mean before this I never really believed the legends, but still," Jacob said and then shrugged there. "They're bloodsuckers that we had an uneasy treaty with... I'm not about to say something nice about them."
"He said we weren't dangerous?" I repeated cynically.
"Not exactly," she clarified. "He said you weren't supposed to be dangerous. But the Quileutes still didn't want you on their land, just in case."
I stared at the road, my thoughts in a hopeless snarl, my throat aching with the familiar fiery thirst.
"So, was he right?" she asked, as calmly as if she were confirming a weather report. "About not hunting people?"
"The Quileutes have a long memory."
She nodded to herself, thinking hard.
"Don't let that make you complacent, though," I said quickly. "They're right to keep their distance from us. We are still dangerous."
"Yes, they are," Jacob frowned, this book did prove that in a way. The vampires really did have a somewhat daily struggle to be able to be close to humans... and then if there was one that smelled too good... they would lose themselves in the monster. And yet, it was hard for him to hate them, because they were trying to stop their very nature...
"I don't understand."
No, she didn't. How to make her see?
"We try," I told her. "We're usually very good at what we do. Sometimes we make mistakes. Me, for example, allowing myself to be alone with you."
Her scent was still a force in the car. I was growing used to it, I could almost ignore it, but there was no denying that my body still yearned toward her for the wrong reason. My mouth was swimming with venom.
Jacob sighed, he really didn't want to hear that right now... it made it easy to hate them again.
"This is a mistake?" she asked, and there was heartbreak in her voice. The sound of it disarmed me. She wanted to be with me - despite everything, she wanted to be with me.
Hope swelled again, and I beat it back.
"A very dangerous one," I told her truthfully, wishing the truth could really somehow cease to matter.
She didn't respond for a moment. I heard her breathing change - it hitched in strange ways that did not sound like fear.
"What is it then?" Jacob asked.
Bella didn't answer; she just looked sadly at the book.
"Tell me more," she said suddenly, her voice distorted by anguish.
I examined her carefully.
She was in pain. How had I allowed this?
"You should watch your words more carefully," Bella mumbled.
"What more do you want to know?" I asked, trying to think of a way to keep her from hurting. She should not hurt. I couldn't let her be hurt.
"Tell me why you hunt animals instead of people," she said, still anguished.
Wasn't it obvious? Or maybe this didn't matter to her