Another Chance at Love

Moving forward

Chapter 3

Bella pov:

When I woke up I was in a strange room I didn't know where I was but I didn't know I wasn't home all I remember was Edward grabbing me then I passed out.

I looked around the room—I wasn't ready to call it my room after waking up in it so suddenly—with my mouth open. It was bigger than some of the apartments that I had lived in with Renee, and so much prettier. The tall windows let the light in, and everything was decorated in shades of powder blue and white. It was like being trapped in a bowl made of the sky—and that's when I realized that my habit of thinking in similes wasn't useful.

I should have been terrified, not descriptive.

Like the proverbial cat, curiosity got the best of me. Wrapping a sheet around myself, and trying not to think about the being-naked thing, I crept out of bed. The floor was white marble, and very cold beneath my feet.

Little by little, I walked around the room, breathless. The desk in the corner was beautiful, carved into ornate swirls. I guess the Volturi were whimsical or impractical; instead of pens and a computer, an hourglass that looked a few centuries old rested on its surface. The dresser was low, the kind you sat in front of while putting on makeup or brushing your hair. I opened its drawers to find cosmetics in sleek containers, so different from the drugstore brands I bought under duress.

There was a bookcase too, and I knelt in front of it so fast that I marveled at how I didn't trip while getting there. Some of the books were in Latin and Greek, but the rest looked like first editions of modern classics. I couldn't help but reach for them, although my fingers shook.

You're clumsy, my brain insisted. If anyone can wreck a book, you can.

Just when my hands were about to touch the spine of The Picture of Dorian Gray, I heard a cough behind me. I jumped up, smashing my head against the decorative scrollwork on top of the case, and turned to face my visitor, cursing under my breath.

Marcus was staring at me. He had discarded his heavy black robes, instead of wearing dark pants, a neat jacket, and a slightly unbuttoned shirt. It was a wonderful look—youthful and commanding in equal parts.

I was admiring his clothes. Oh God, what was wrong with me? But I guess it was better than admiring him.

He looked—worried. I was confused about why he looked worried.

He could probably hear my heartbeat from where he was.

"Bathe and dress," he said curtly. 

I nodded frantically, wondering whether I should excuse myself.

"I will wait here," he said. "Hurry."

I nearly ran to the closet, plucking a dress at random. There was underwear stacked precariously on the top shelf, and I grabbed panties and a bra before going into the bathroom.

Behind me, I could hear Marcus settling in a chair, long fingers tapping on the armrest.

The bathroom was gorgeous as the other room, a vision of white stone and fluffy blue towels, but I didn't have time to think about that. Instead, I ran the bathwater and picked a few bottles of something that I hoped was shampoo and conditioner.