Barely containing her excitement, Alice pulled me from the living room into the rest of the house. Her hand was firmly wrapped around mine as she guided me as if she'd been waiting all day for this exact moment.
I had a general picture of the house from the films. However, the films were never particularly consistent, different angles, varying layouts, and I was quite certain they'd used more than one location across the sequels.
But actually being here made one thing immediately obvious: what had appeared on screen was only a fraction of the real place, significantly larger, easily twice the size of the movie version.
Standing at the entrance and looking up, you'd count four levels, though that number was slightly misleading.
The lowest one didn't primarily function as a living space. Nestled into a cliffside, the house's ground floor was largely swallowed by the landscape, dedicated instead to practical purposes. The west half was taken up by a garage, large enough for four cars. Unlike the pristine minimalism of the rest of the house, this area actually looked used. Tools hung neatly from the walls, spare parts were stacked here and there, and several workbenches were covered in mechanical components in various stages of assembly. Rosalie and Emmett's territory, most likely.
Between the garage and the ground-floor entrance was another lounge area. This informal guest space was as tasteful as everything else in the house, but even by Cullen's standards, it looked too neat, too untouched, clearly not getting much use.
From there, we went back upstairs.
She showed me the rest of the first floor. One half was a large open area connected directly to the famous kitchen, a space I immediately recognised as the one Alice had used for the graduation party in the third film. The other half was where we'd already spent most of the afternoon: the living room where I'd met the family, with Carlisle's office and Edward's piano room close to it.
Throughout the tour, Alice walked slightly ahead of me, narrating everything with a thoroughness and enthusiasm I found quietly charming. By the time we reached the staircase leading upward again, I realised I had been grinning almost constantly since leaving the living room.
She then led me up to the second floor.
"This is where our private rooms are," she said, glancing back at me.
As we moved down the hall, she pointed at each door in turn, naming its occupant. The floor was divided between herself, Emmett and Rosalie, Jasper and Edythe, while Carlisle, Esme, and Edward's rooms were one floor above.
There was a brief flicker of amusement in her eyes before she pointed toward the final door.
"And this one," she said, "is mine."
Her voice softened slightly on the last word.
The door was already slightly open. She pushed it gently and stepped inside, and I followed.
I started looking around. The room was quite large, around forty square metres, but none of it felt wasted. The room felt carefully designed around its occupant. It was divided into distinct areas that each served its own purpose while cohering harmoniously.
The first thing that drew my eye was a reading space near the centre of the room, a soft couch beside a standing lamp, with several low bookshelves arranged around it, that quietly separated it from the rest of the space. The closest wall was lined from top to bottom with shelving, packed with considerably more books than the shorter ones could hold.
In the right corner of the room was a worktable covered in fashion sketches, fabric swatches, and half-finished designs arranged in what I could only describe as organised chaos.
The entire right wall was essentially a wardrobe, its length broken up by stylish curtains drawn across it at intervals, each one a deliberate choice rather than an afterthought.
I moved further into the room.
Then something else caught my eye.
A large double bed.
I slowly raised an eyebrow and looked at Alice. "I thought vampires didn't sleep."
Alice followed my gaze.
"We don't," she said easily. "But it's comfortable. I like having fluffy things to lie on."
I raised an eyebrow.
"What?" she asked, her tone carrying a faint defensiveness, though the amusement dancing in her eyes ruined the effect entirely.
I smiled and shook my head silently.
My attention then shifted toward the far-left corner, surrounded by floor-to-ceiling windows that offered a wide view of the forest below.
An easel stood there.
I walked toward it slowly, my eyes settling on the canvas resting upon it. What was on the canvas made something warm and quiet settle in my chest.
It pictured the scene from our first date. The two of us were lying on a blanket, her head resting on my chest, while ribbons of green and blue light danced above us.
It was beautiful.
The brief painting lesson Alice had given me, the lesson in which my instant mastery had given me enough insight to see beyond the surface, allowing me to appreciate the care in every brushstroke. Looking at the painting now, I could almost feel how deeply she treasured that memory.
For several seconds, I simply stared at it in silence. I could almost feel that night again.
"Do you like it?"
Alice's voice pulled me from the painting.
I turned. Alice was watching me from a short distance away, with the fingers of one hand pressed lightly to her lips and her elbow resting in the palm of the other. There was subtle anticipation in her posture as she waited for my answer.
I closed the distance between us and slipped an arm around her waist, gently pulling her closer. Her hands settled naturally against my chest as she tilted her head to look up at me.
"Do I like it?" I repeated quietly.
She waited silently.
I glanced back toward the painting before returning my gaze to her. "Honey... I love it."
Then I added softly, "Although I should point out a flaw."
Her eyes widened slightly. "A flaw?"
I smiled, and a brief silence settled between us. She looked up at me with bright golden eyes, her small face so impossibly perfect that it was almost difficult to hold her gaze without losing my train of thought.
I brushed a dark strand of hair behind her ear. "Not even you, my dear, could ever capture the true extent of your own beauty."
She stared at me for a moment, visibly caught off guard, her lips parting slightly as if the words had bypassed her defences. Her mouth opened to speak, but no sound came. Then she suddenly rose onto her tiptoes and kissed me.
The kiss began softly, her lips pressing unhurriedly against mine. Her hands rose to frame my jaw, fingers weaving into my hair as she drew herself nearer.
The moment her hands slid up from my chest to my neck, that initial gentleness ignited, using the arm around her waist to draw her closer, her body moulding against mine until every inch of space vanished and her breasts flattened against my chest.
My other hand moved slowly along her back, tracing the ridge of her spine. As it reached the curve of her lower back, it paused, then descended to cup one of her cheeks. I squeezed gently, feeling the firm give of flesh beneath my palm. She gasped against my lips, her mouth opening wider, the tip of her tongue brushing against mine.
She pressed against me without hesitation, and I felt the distinct, growing pressure straining against my jeans. When she registered what was pressing into her thigh, confusion flickered in her expression, quickly replaced by understanding. Rather than pulling back, she leaned further into me, her lips parting fully, her tongue sliding against mine as her hands tangled in my hair.
She tasted faintly sweet and cool. Her movements against me made it impossible to think of anything else. My hand on her buttock kneaded deeper, pulling her hips tighter against mine, and she let out a low, desperate sound that vibrated from her lips into mine.
Several minutes passed, possibly more.
As we finally pulled apart, her lips lingered, tracing mine before the distance settled between us. Our foreheads rested together, her eyes half-lidded, a dazed, satisfied smile playing on her lips.
I gasped, breathing like a runner who'd just crossed the finish line, not from physical exertion, but from the sheer effort of holding back. My eyes, I knew, had taken on a golden hue.
We exchanged a long, silent look, letting the intensity of the moment slowly subside.
Neither of us was particularly concerned about the six vampires one floor below. What truly held us back was simpler: an unspoken understanding that if we let things go any further, there would be no turning back, no stopping what had begun.
Despite how desperately I wanted her, this was not how I wanted our first time together to happen.
Alice understood this without words. Eventually, she smiled softly, stole one final lingering kiss from me, and rested against my chest as we slowly calmed ourselves.
We remained where we were, close and warm and slightly dishevelled, until the wanting became something quieter.
…
The light outside was fading.
We lay together on her bed. I rested on my back, eyes closed, as Alice lay beside me, propped lightly on one elbow. Her fingers traced delicate, featherlight patterns across my face and neck, barely grazing my skin.
Rain drifted softly through the distant forest. Alice continued her absentminded caress, her eyes fixed on my face. Without realising it, a profound sense settled over me.
I felt at peace.
It was the most peaceful I had felt in longer than I could remember myself in this world. Not the absence of something difficult, but the genuine presence of something genuinely good. Like finally being still after a long, restless journey.
I didn't notice when it happened, but at some point, I simply drifted off to sleep.
…
General - POV
Alice didn't immediately notice he had fallen asleep. His breathing had slowed slightly, becoming deeper and steadier, but the change was so subtle, easily missed by someone unfamiliar with it. Especially by her, who had spent over a century surrounded by creatures that never slept. Perhaps she would learn to discern it later.
She continued tracing her fingers slowly across his face, looking at him with gentle fascination.
Then, less than ten minutes after his eyes had closed, she heard it.
Alice froze.
At first, she thought she had imagined it, but then it came again: a soft, rumbling vibration.
Her eyes widened in surprise as realisation dawned.
It was, unmistakably, a purr.
Low and rhythmic, it bore no resemblance to a domestic cat's sound. This was deeper, carrying a weight that made the air itself feel different. It reminded her more of a large predator resting contentedly in the sun than anything tame or harmless. And somehow, that made it infinitely more adorable.
Her expression softened to one of pure affection.
"Oh my God," she whispered softly.
Her heart would have been racing if it still could.
Carefully, as though afraid of disturbing him, she shifted closer. Her face hovered just beside his. She leaned down and pressed a gentle kiss against his cheek.
The rumbling purr deepened slightly in response, nearly destroying what little composure she had left.
A quiet, helpless smile spread across her lips as her fingers slid softly into his hair.
"I love you so much, my kitten," she whispered. "You have no idea how hard it's becoming to hold myself back."
Samael might have dearly wanted to hear those words.
But he was far too occupied drifting through the imaginary sky his sleeping mind had conjured, wrapped in warmth, peace, and the quiet presence of the girl whose gaze held him as the most precious thing in her world.