I shook my head against his chest, grimacing. "You're just trying to distract me. Let's get back to the subject."

He sighed.

"Tell me if I have anything wrong." I tried to sound detached. "Your demands are marriage" - I couldn't say the word without making a face - "paying my tuition, more time, and you wouldn't mind if my vehicle went a little faster." I raised my eyebrows. "Did I get everything? That's a hefty list."

"Only the first is a demand." He seemed to be having a hard time keeping a straight face. "The others are merely requests."

"And my lone, solitary little demand is -"

"Demand?" he interrupted, suddenly serious again.

"I have a good feeling that I'm going to win this bet," Emmett said.

"Yes, demand."

His eyes narrowed.

"Getting married is a stretch for me. I'm not giving in unless I get something in return."

"Er... that doesn't really make her sound so good," Rosalie said.

"You know she doesn't mean it that way," Esme final spoke. "She just wants to be with Edward as much as she possibly can before..."

"I know," Rosalie said.

He leaned down to whisper in my ear. "No," he murmured silkily. "It's not possible now. Later, when you're less breakable. Be patient, Bella."

I tried to keep my voice firm and reasonable. "But that's the problem. It won't be the same when I'm less breakable. I won't be the same! I don't know who I'll be then."

"You'll still be Bella," he promised.

I frowned. "If I'm so far gone that I'd want to kill Charlie - that I'd drink Jacob's blood or Angela's if I got the chance - how can that be true?"

"It's a good question," Carlisle said, again not being able to resist. "Very Psychological, Essential."

"It will pass. And I doubt you'll want to drink the dog's blood." He pretended to shudder at the thought. "Even as a newborn, you'll have better taste than that."

I ignored his attempt to sidetrack me. "But that will always be what I want most, won't it?" I challenged. "Blood, blood, and more blood!"

"No," everyone said.

"But it will always be there," Jasper admitted. "It never goes away."

"The fact that you are still alive is proof that that is not true," he pointed out.

"Over eighty years later," I reminded him. "What I meant was physically, though. Intellectually, I know I'll be able to be myself . . . after a while. But just purely physically - I will always be thirsty, more than anything else."

He didn't answer.

"So I will be different," I concluded unopposed. "Because right now, physically, there's nothing I want more than you. More than food or water or oxygen. Intellectually, I have my priorities in a slightly more sensible order. But physically…"

Edward's face looked as if it should have been blood red from embarrassment, not helped one bit by Emmett's laughter.

I twisted my head to kiss the palm of his hand.

He took a deep breath. I was surprised that it sounded a little unsteady.

"Bella, I could kill you," he whispered.

"I don't think you could."

Edward narrowed his eyes.

She doesn't mean physically, Alice thought, rolling her eyes.

Edward's eyes tightened. He lifted his hand from my face and reached quickly behind himself for something I couldn't see. There was a muffled snapping sound, and the bed quivered beneath us.

Something dark was in his hand; he held it up for my curious examination. It was a metal flower, one of the roses that adorned the wrought iron posts and canopy of his bed frame.

His hand closed for a brief second, his fingers contracting gently, and then it opened again.

Without a word, he offered me the crushed, uneven lump of black metal. It was a cast of the inside of his hand, like a piece of play dough squeezed in a child's fist. A half-second passed, and the shape crumbled into black sand in his palm.