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"For a fire rages with essence of gold hidden in dust, rise from the ashes and wage war on thine enemy."
Chapter VI // Centuries Old Feelings
Elena is two cuspids deep in the neck of the mountain lion she originally came out of the house to hunt for. The taste isn't satisfying, barely enough in fact. However, it does aid in preventing her from attacking every human on sight. She does not savour the taste as she usually would. It is like drinking sparkling water when you truly crave for the throat tingling cola. She drains the large animal in record time, leaving it in a dry mass of skin and bone.Edward watches the woman in amusement as a lopsided grin decorates his pale face. His arms are in a fold over his chest as he leans against a large evergreen. The trunk of the evergreen doubling his shoulder width. They are deeply in secrecy at the forest, far from any human. Specifically, Bella Swan.
"Satisfying?" He teases, clearly in impress of how quickly she feeds.
"Shut it," Elena replies as she wipes miscellaneous blood drippings from the sides of her lips.
Her retinas glow a beautiful liquid gold, replacing the deathly obsidian. Their matching yellow tone orbs connect into a tense heavy gaze, the decades simply melting away. The nights Edward spent searching every inch of the forest for his lover in the 50's are now a blurry memory. Even after all his senses inform him that she is nowhere near their vicinity, he still investigates the vast green land. It finally dawns on him that she really was gone in 1970. Twenty years after his last sight of her, he came to the concrete realization that if she wants to return, she would have ages ago. Here they stand, twenty first century and the feelings they once shared slowly creeping into their conscience. The two that once stand at opposite ends of a small green space, are now three inches within reach. Their amazing enhanced speed allows their movement to be unseen, simply a blur of pure lust.
His right hand's fingertips curl into the fabric of her clothing, the forearm firmly enclosing her waist. It is his sign of protection, he never wants to release her. His left hand runs circles over her redden cheeks. He simply cannot get enough of her beauty, which he can see both inside and out. The man's unruly hair is a shade of blonde that shines brighter than the hot England sun. The equally blonde woman tangles her fingers into his messy locks, pulling his face impossibly close without touching. Their lips graze, but never enough to fully touch.
