la belle dame sans merci | carlisle cullen

21

Minerva watched his black Mercedes pull out of the parking lot and disappear down the road before she let herself crumble to pieces in the driver's seat of her car. It was ridiculous to be sobbing after a really wonderful excursion but here she was, gasping for breath and gripping onto the steering wheel for dear life as she pressed her forehead against the cold leather.

She'd been alone a very long time. The eighties had at least yielded a concerning number of physical partners but she hadn't known romantic attraction in so long that it was debilitating. It wasn't a date and she knew that going in. If it was, she would have cautioned him— dissuaded him at all costs. She was a witch or whatever the hell she was. A traumatized disaster of a person, cursed to live forever.

Carlisle was too perfect to be marred by all that she was and she god damn well knew it. The cold was creeping in, sinking straight to her veins and heading straight for her cold heart. He treated her like she was normal but she could see it in his eyes whenever her magic came up. A fascination. Something in the back of her mind wondered if that was all this was: morbid curiosity. Novelty.

Asking if she'd ever cursed someone was a very veiled way of asking if he was in danger. If his companionship might end badly. Even if she could curse him, she wouldn't dare. Nothing he could do could drive her to that. Regret for telling him he could see her when Yule and the Saturnalia crossed over was beginning to eat at her, chewing up her insides. It wasn't a crazy change, it just wasn't natural. She made the mental note to deter him from seeing her in that time.

As patrons began exiting the lodge, she hastily started the car. It would need to warm up for a second before she moved and she tried to collect herself in the time that took. Furiously wiping her eyes and smudging mascara all over, she caught her gaze in the rear view mirror.

"You're an idiot." She muttered to herself. It was lost on her at exactly what point she started getting her hopes up. She must have, otherwise this wouldn't be happening. People who didn't have their hopes up wouldn't have to piece themselves back together in the pub parking lot.

Another small voice in her head cried pity and sent her into a new round of hysterics. He must pity her, that had to be it. That was the reason for all of this. She'd made the mistake of confiding about how lonesome immortality was and now he felt obligated.

Deciding the engine had warmed enough, she peeled out of the parking lot and started for home. Her foot pressed hard against the pedal for a second, the engine roaring as the needle approached 80 in a 50 zone. She let it go then, slowing to a crawl— five kilometres below the limit. Her eyes were too bleary to be going that fast. The last thing she needed was to end up in the hospital and owe Carlisle even more.

Minerva was home before she knew it, most of the drive spent choking out sobs and wiping her eyes. Her legs carried her to her room on autopilot, dropping into the comforting embrace of her bed and wrapping herself tightly in the sanctity of her blankets.

Distance. She decided. There needed to be distance. Before she grew even more enamoured with all that he was and he grew tired of her.