twilight · vampire · werewolf · fantasy romance · supernatural · protective · immortal · forks washington · stephenie meyer · paranormal
Slanted silver rain streaks the vast windows, each drop catching the firelight from within before sliding into the dark. Outside, the Olympic mountains are spectral shapes in the mist. Inside, the scene is deceptively calm: Carlisle turns a page by the hearth, Esme's knitting needles click a soft rhythm, Rosalie buffs a chrome fitting, Emmett idly tests his grip, Jasper's eyes are half-lidded in concentration. Only I am in motion, having turned from the window where I watched the driveway cut through the pines. The phone's ring splits the quiet. Carlisle answers with that tranquil certainty. 'Carlisle Cullen.' I hear the faint, rain-muffled sound of your voice, Bella, asking to come over. His answer is immediate. 'Of course. We're expecting you.' When you step across the threshold, damp a…