melody

I had to wait to go back to school. The final hour wasn't out yet. That was good, because I had things to think about and I needed the time alone.

His scent lingered in the car. I kept the windows up, letting it assault me, trying to get used to the feel of intentionally torching my throat.

Attraction.

It was a problematic thing to contemplate. So many sides to it, so many different meanings and levels. Not the same thing as love, but tied up in it inextricably.

I had no idea if Beau was attracted to me. Would his mental silence somehow continue to get more and more frustrating until I went mad? Or was there a limit that I would eventually reach?

I tried to compare his physical responses to others, like the secretary and Jessica Stanley, but the comparison was inconclusive. The same markers—changes in heart rate and breathing patterns—could just as easily mean fear or shock or anxiety as they did interest. It seemed unlikely that Beau could be entertaining the same kinds of thoughts that others, like Jessica Stanley, used to have. After all, Beau knew very well that there was something wrong with me, even if he didn't know what exactly it was. He had touched my icy skin, and then yanked his hand away from the chill.

And yet… as I remembered those fantasies that used to repulse me, but remembered them with Beau in place of the others…

I was breathing more quickly, the fire clawing up and down my throat.

What if it had been Beau imagining me with my arms wrapped around his fragile body? Feeling me pull him tightly against my chest and then cupping my hand under his chin? Running my hand through his thick hair? Tracing the shape of his full lips with my fingertips? Leaning my face closer to his, where I could feel the heat of his breath on my mouth? Moving closer still…

But then I flinched away from the daydream, knowing, as I had known when others had imagined these things, what would happen if I got that close to Beau.

Attraction was an impossible dilemma, because I was already too attracted to Beau in the worst way.

Did I want Beau to be attracted to me, a man to a man?

That was the wrong question. The right question was should I want Beau to be attracted to me that way, and that answer was no. Because I was not a human man, and that wasn't fair to him.

With every fiber of my being, I ached to be a normal man, so that I could hold him in my arms without risking his life. So that I could be free to spin my own fantasies, fantasies that didn't end with his blood on my hands, his blood glowing in my eyes.

My pursuit of his was indefensible. What kind of relationship could I offer him, when I couldn't risk touching him?

I hung my head in my hands.

It was all the more confusing because I had never felt so human in my whole life—not even when I was human, as far as I could recall. When I had been human, my thoughts had all been turned to a soldier's glory. The Great War had raged through most of my adolescence, and I'd been only a few months away from my eighteenth birthday when the influenza had struck… I had just vague impressions of those human years, murky memories that faded more with every passing decade. I remembered my mother most clearly, and felt an ancient ache when I thought of her face. I recalled dimly how much she had hated the future I'd raced eagerly toward, praying every night when she said grace at dinner that the "horrid war" would end… I had no memories of another kind of yearning. Besides my mother's love, there was no other love that had made me wish to stay…

This was entirely new to me. I had no parallels to draw, no comparisons to make.

The love I felt for Beau had come purely, but now the waters were muddied. I wanted very much to be able to touch him. Did he feel the same way?

That didn't matter, I tried to convince myself

I stared at my white hands, hating their hardness, their coldness, their inhuman strength…

I jumped when the passenger door opened.

Ha. Caught you by surprise. There's a first, Emmett thought as he slid into the seat. "I'll bet Mrs. Goff thinks you're on drugs, you've been so erratic lately. Where were you today?"

"I was… doing good deeds."

Huh?

I chuckled. "Caring for the sick, that kind of thing."

That confused him more, but then he inhaled and caught the scent in the car.

"Oh. The boy again?"

I grimaced.

This is getting weird.

"Tell me about it," I mumbled.

He inhaled again. "Hmm, he does have quite a flavor, doesn't he?"

The snarl broke through my lips before his words had even registered all the way, an automatic response.

"Easy, kid, I'm just sayin'."

The others arrived then. Royal noticed the scent all at once and glowered at me, still not over his irritation. I wondered what his problem was, but all I could hear from him were insults.

I didn't like Jasper's reaction, either. Like Emmett, he noticed Beau's appeal. Not that the scent had, for either of them, a thousandth portion of the draw it had for me. It still upset me that his blood was sweet to them. Jasper had poor control…

Alice skipped to my side of the car and held her hand out for Beau's truck key.

"I only saw that I was,' she said—obscurely, as was her habit. "You'll have to tell me the whys."

"This doesn't mean—"

"I know, I know. I'll wait. It won't be long."

I sighed and gave her the key.

I followed her to Beau's house. The rain was pounding like a million tiny hammers, so loud that maybe Beau's human ears couldn't hear the thunder of the truck's engine. I watched his window, but he didn't come to look out. Maybe he wasn't there. There were no thoughts to hear.

It made me sad that I couldn't hear enough to even check on him—to make sure he was happy, or safe, at the least.

Alice climbed in the back and we sped home. The roads were empty, and so it only took a few minutes. We trooped into the house, and then went to our various pastimes.

Emmett and Jasper were in the middle of an elaborate game of chess, utilizing eight joined boards—spread out along the glass back wall—and their own complicated set of rules. They wouldn't let me play; only Alice would play games with me anymore.

Alice went to her computer just around the corner from them and I could hear her monitors sing to life. Alice was working on a fashion design project for Royal's wardrobe, but Royal did not join her today, to stand behind her and direct cut and color as Alice traced the stylus over the sensitive screens. Instead, today, Royal sprawled sullenly on the sofa and started flipping through twenty channels a second on the flat screen, never pausing. I could hear him trying to decide whether or not to go out to the garage and tune his BMW again.

Esme was upstairs, humming over a new set of blue prints.

Alice leaned her head around the wall after a moment and started mouthing Emmett's next moves—Emmett sat on the floor with his back to her—to Jasper, who kept his expression very smooth as he cut off Emmett's favorite knight.

And I, for the first time in so long that I felt ashamed, went to sit at the exquisite grand piano stationed just off the entryway.

I ran my hand gently up the scales, testing the pitch. The tuning was still perfect.

Upstairs, Esme paused what she was doing and cocked her head to the side.

I began the first line of the tune that had suggested itself to me in the car today, pleased that it sounded even better than I'd imagined.

Edward is playing again, Esme thought joyously, a smile breaking across her face. She got up from her desk, and flitted silently to the head of the stairs.

I added a harmonizing line, letting the central melody weave through it.

Esme sighed in contentment, sat down on the top step, and leaned her head against the banister. A new song. It's been so long. What a lovely tune.

I let the melody lead in a new direction, following it with a bass line.

Edward is composing again? Royal thought, and his teeth clenched together in fierce resentment.

In that moment, he slipped, and I could read all his underlying outrage. I saw why he was in such a poor temper with me. Why killing Beauregard Swan had not bothered his conscience at all.

With Royal, it was always about vanity.

The music came to an abrupt halt, and I laughed before I could help myself, a sharp bark of amusement that broke off quickly as I threw my hand over my mouth.

Royal turned to glare at me, his eyes sparking with chagrined fury.

Emmett and Jasper turned to stare, too, and I heard Esme's confusion. Esme was downstairs in a flash, pausing to glance between Royal and me.

"Don't stop, Edward," Esme encouraged after a strained moment.

I started playing again, turning my back on Royal while trying very hard to control the grin stretching across my face. He got to his feet and stalked out of the room, more angry than embarrassed. But certainly quite embarrassed.

If you say anything I will hunt you like a dog.

I smothered another laugh.

"What's wrong, Roy?" Emmett called after him. Royal didn't turn. He continued, back ramrod straight, to the garage and then squirmed under his car as if he could bury himself there.

"What's that about?" Emmett asked me.

"I don't have the faintest idea," I lied.

Emmett grumbled, frustrated.

"Keep playing," Esme urged. My hands had paused again.

I did as she asked, and she came to stand behind me, putting her hands on my shoulders.

The song was compelling, but incomplete. I toyed with a bridge, but it didn't seem right somehow.

"It's charming. Does it have a name?" Esme asked.

"Not yet."

"Is there a story to it?" she asked, a smile in her voice. This gave her very great pleasure, and I felt guilty for having neglected my music for so long. It had been selfish.

"It's… a lullaby, I suppose." I got the bridge right then. It led easily to the next movement, taking on a life of its own.

"A lullaby," she repeated to herself.

There was a story to this melody, and once I saw that, the pieces fell into place effortlessly. The story was a sleeping boy in a narrow bed, dark hair thick and wild and twisted around itself against the pillow…

Alice left Jasper to his own devices and came to sit next to me on the bench. In her trilling, wind chime voice, she sketched out a wordless descant an octave above the melody.

"I like it," I murmured. "But how about this?"

I added her line to the harmony—my hands were flying across the keys now to work all the pieces together—modifying it a bit, taking it in a new direction…

She caught the mood, and sung along.

"Yes. Perfect," I said.

Esme squeezed my shoulder.

But I could see the end now, with Alice's voice rising above the tune and taking it to another place. I could see how the song must end, because the sleeping boy was perfect just the way he was, and any change at all would be wrong, a sadness. The song drifted toward that realization, slower and lower now. Alice's voice lowered, too, and became solemn, a tone that belonged under the echoing arches of a candlelit cathedral.

I played the last note, and then bowed my head over the keys.

Esme stroked my hair. It's going to be fine, Edward. This is going to work out for the best. You deserve happiness, my son. Fate owes you that.

"Thanks," I whispered, wishing I could believe it.

Love doesn't always come in convenient packages.

I laughed once without humor.

You, out of everyone on this planet, are perhaps best equipped to deal with such a difficult quandary. You are the best and the brightest of us all.

I sighed. Every mother thought the same of her son.

Esme was still full of joy that my heart had finally been touched after all this time, no matter the potential tragedy. She'd worried I would always be alone…

He'll have to love you back, she thought suddenly, catching me by surprise with the direction of her thoughts. If he's a bright young man. She smiled. But I can't imagine anyone being so slow they wouldn't see the catch you are.

"Stop it, Mom, you're making me blush," I teased. Her words, though improbable, did cheer me.

Alice laughed and picked out the top hand of "Heart and Soul." I grinned and completed the simple harmony with her. Then I favored her with a performance of "Chopsticks."

She giggled, then sighed. "So I wish you'd tell me what you were laughing at Roy about," Alice said. "But I can see that you won't."

"Nope."

She flicked my ear with her finger.

"Be nice, Alice," Esme chided. "Edward is being a gentleman."

"But I want to know."

I laughed at the whining tone she put on. Then I said, "Here, Esme," and began playing her favorite song, an unnamed tribute to the love I'd watched between her and Carlisle for so many years.

"Thank you, dear." She squeezed my shoulder again.

I didn't have to concentrate to play the familiar piece. Instead I thought of Royal, still figuratively writhing in mortification in the garage, and I grinned to myself.

Having just discovered the potency of jealousy for myself, I had a small amount of pity for him. It was a wretched way to feel. Of course, his jealousy was a thousand times more petty than mine. Quite the fox in the manger scenario.

I wondered how Royal's life and personality would have been different if he had not always been the most beautiful. Would he have been a happier person if beauty hadn't at all times been his strongest selling point? Less egocentric? More compassionate?  Well, I supposed it was useless to wonder, because the past was done, and he always had been the most beautiful. Even when human, he had ever lived in the spotlight of his own attractiveness. Not that he'd minded. The opposite—he'd loved admiration above almost anything else. That hadn't changed with the loss of his mortality.

It was no surprise then, taking this need as a given, that he'd been offended when I had not, from the beginning, worshipped his beauty the way he expected everyone to worship. Not that he'd wanted me in any way—far from it. But it had aggravated him that I did not want him, despite that. He was used to being wanted.

It was different with Jasper and Carlisle—they were already both in love. I was completely unattached, and yet still remained obstinately unmoved.

I'd thought that old resentment was buried. That he was long passed it.

And he had been… until the day that I finally found someone whose beauty touched me the way his had not.

Royal had relied on the belief that if I did not find his beauty worth worshipping, then certainly there was no beauty on earth that could reach me. He'd been furious since the moment I'd saved Beau's life, guessing, with his shrewd intuition, the interest that I was all but unconscious of myself.

Royal was mortally offended that I found some insignificant human boy more appealing than him.

I suppressed the urge to laugh again.

It bothered me some, though, the way he saw Beau. Royal actually thought the boy was plain. How could he believe that? It seemed incomprehensible to me. A product of the jealousy, no doubt.

"Oh!" Alice said abruptly. "Jasper, guess what?"

I saw what she'd just seen, and my hands froze on the keys.

"What, Alice?" Jasper asked.

"Peter and Charlotte are coming to visit next week! They're going to be in the neighborhood, isn't that nice?"

"What's wrong, Edward?" Esme asked, feeling the tension in my shoulders.

"Peter and Charlotte are coming to Forks?" I hissed at Alice.

She rolled her eyes at me. "Calm down, Edward. It's not their first visit."

My teeth clenched together. It was their first visit since Beau had arrived, and his sweet blood didn't appeal just to me.

Alice frowned at my expression. "They never hunt here. You know that."

But Jasper's brother of sorts and the little vampire he loved were not like us; they hunted the usual way. They could not be trusted around Beau.

"When?" I demanded.

She pursed her lips unhappily, but told me what I needed to know. Monday morning. No one is going to hurt Beau.

"No," I agreed, and then turned away from her. "You ready, Emmett?"

"I thought we were leaving in the morning?"

"We're coming back by midnight Sunday. I guess it's up to you when you want to leave."

"Okay, fine. Let me say goodbye to Roy first."

"Sure." With the mood Royal was in, it would be a short goodbye.

You really have lost it, Edward, he thought as he headed toward the back door.

"I suppose I have."

"Play the new song for me, one more time," Esme asked.

"If you'd like that," I agreed, though I was a little hesitant to follow the tune to its unavoidable end—the end that had set me aching in unfamiliar ways. I thought for a moment, and then pulled the bottle cap from my pocket and set it on the empty music stand. That helped a bit—my little memento of his yes.

I nodded to myself, and started playing.

Esme and Alice exchanged a glance, but neither one asked.

"Hasn't anyone ever told you not to play with your food?" I called to Emmett.

"Oh, hey Edward!" he shouted back, grinning and waving at me. The bear took advantage of his distraction to rake its heavy paw across Emmett's chest. The sharp claws shredded through his shirt, and squealed across his skin.

The bear bellowed at the high-pitched noise.

Aw, hell, Roy gave me this shirt!

Emmett roared back at the enraged animal.

I sighed and sat down on a convenient boulder. This might take awhile.

But Emmett was almost done. He let the bear try to take his head off with another swipe of the paw, laughing as the blow bounced off and sent the bear staggering back. The bear roared and Emmett roared again through his laughter. Then he launched himself at the animal, who stood a head taller than him on its hind legs, and their bodies fell to the ground tangled up together, taking a mature spruce tree down with them. The bear's growls cut off with a gurgle.

A few minutes later, Emmett jogged over to where I was waiting for him. His shirt was destroyed, torn and bloodied, sticky with sap and covered in fur. His dark curly hair wasn't in much better shape. He had a huge grin on his face.

"That was a strong one. I could almost feel it when he clawed me."

"You're such a child, Emmett."

He eyed my smooth, clean white button-down. "Weren't you able to track down the mountain lion, then?"

"Of course I was. I just don't eat like a savage."

Emmett laughed his booming laugh. "I wish they were stronger. It would be more fun."

"No one said you had to fight with your food."

"Yeah, but who else am I going to fight with? You and Alice cheat, Esme gets mad if Jasper and I really go at it, and Roy and I never manage to stay focused on fighting." He grinned to himself widely.

I rolled my eyes and ignored his thoughts. "Life is hard all around, isn't it?"

Emmett grinned at me now, shifting his weight a bit so that he was suddenly poised to take a charge.

"C'mon Edward. Just turn it off for one minute and fight fair."

"It doesn't turn off," I reminded him.

"Wonder what the human kid does to keep you out?" Emmett mused. "Maybe he could give me some pointers."

My good humor vanished. "Stay away from him," I growled through my teeth.

"Touchy, touchy."

I sighed. Emmett came to sit beside me on the rock.

"Sorry. I know you're going through a tough spot. I really am trying to not be too much of an insensitive jerk, but, since that's sort of my natural state…"

He waited for me to laugh at his joke, and then made a face.

So serious all the time. What's bugging you now?

"Thinking about him. Well, worrying, really?"

"What's there to worry about? You are here." He laughed loudly.

I ignored his joke again, but answered his question. "Have you ever thought about how fragile they all are? How many bad things there are that can happen to a mortal?"

"Not really. I guess I see what you mean, though. I wasn't much match for a bear the first time around, was I?"

"Bears," I muttered, adding a new fear to the pile. "That would be just his luck, wouldn't it? Stray bear in town. Of course it would head straight for Beau."

Emmett chuckled. "You sound like a crazy person, do you know that?"

"Just imagine for one minute that Royal was human, Emmett. And he could run into a bear… or get hit by a car… or lightning… or fall down stairs… or get sick—get a disease!" The words burst from me stormily. It was a relief to let them out—they'd been festering inside me all weekend. "Fires and earthquakes and tornados! Ugh! When's the last time you watched the news? Have you seen the kinds of things that happen to them? Burglaries and homicides…" Me teeth clenched together, and I was abruptly so infuriated by the idea of another human hurting him that I couldn't breathe.

"Whoa, whoa! Hold up, there, kid. He lives in Forks, remember? So he gets rained on." He shrugged.

"I think he has some substantial bad luck, Emmett, I really do. Look at the evidence. Of all the places in the world he could go, he ends up in a town where vampires make up a significant portion of the population."

"Yeah, but we're vegetarians. So isn't that good luck, not bad?"

"With the way he smells? Definitely bad. And then, more bad luck, the way he smells to me." I glowered at my hands, hating them again.

"Except that you have more self-control than just about anyone but Carlisle. Good luck again."

"The van?"

"That was just an accident."

"You should have seen it coming for him, Em, again and again. I swear, it was like he had some kind of magnetic pull."

"But you were there. That was good luck."

"Was it? Isn't it the worst luck any human could ever possibly have—to have a vampire fall in love with them?"

Emmett considered that quietly for a moment. He pictured the boy in his head, and found the image largely uninteresting. Honestly, I can't really see the draw.

"Well, I can't really see Royal's allure, either," I said rudely. "Honestly, he seems like more work than any pretty face is worth."

Emmett chuckled. "I don't suppose you'd tell me…"

"I don't know what his problem is, Emmett," I lied with a sudden, wide grin.

I saw his intent in time to brace myself. He tried to shove me off the rock, and there was a loud cracking sound as a fissure opened in the stone between us.

"Cheater," he muttered.

I waited for him to try another time, but his thoughts took a different direction. He was picturing Beau's face again, but imagining it whiter, imagining his eyes bright red…

"No," I said, my voice strangled.

"It solves your worries about mortality, doesn't it? And then you wouldn't want to kill him, either. Isn't that the best way?"

"For me? Or for him?"

"For you," he answered easily. His tone added the of course.

I laughed humorlessly. "Wrong answer."

"I didn't mind so much," he reminded me.

"Royal did."

He sighed. We both knew that Royal would do anything, give up anything, if it meant he could be human again.

"Yeah, Roy did," he acquiesced quietly.

"I can't… I shouldn't… I'm not going to ruin Beau's life. Wouldn't you feel the same if it were Royal?"

Emmett thought about that for a moment. "You really… love him?"

"I can't even describe it, Emmett. All of a sudden, he's the whole world to me. I don't see the point of the rest of the world without him anymore."

But you won't change him? He won't last forever, Edward.

"I know that," I groaned.

And, as you've pointed out, he's sort of breakable.

"Trust me—that I know, too."

Emmett was not a tactful person, and delicate discussions were not his forte. He struggled now, wanting very much not to be offensive. He spoke aloud, rather than risk thinking the wrong words.

"Can you even touch him? I mean, if you love him… wouldn't you want to, well, touch him…?"

Emmett and Royal shared an intensely physical love. While he understood that one could love without that aspect, he was acutely aware of how it certainly added to a relationship.

I sighed. "I can't even think of that, Emmett."

"I know it can't be easy, but Taras and Ivan do it all the time." He shrugged.

Taras and Ivan greatly enjoyed their physical dalliances with human men. I knew it was possible—they could recall a mountain of memories as proof—but how could I share any sort of intimacy with Beau, any closeness with him, when he was already so fragile? And when his scent was so intoxicating to me? So tempting?

I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. "I don't think it would be possible, Emmett, I really don't."

Wow. So what are your options, then?

"I don't know," I whispered. "I'm trying to figure out a way to… to leave him. I just can't fathom how to make myself stay away…"

With a deep sense of gratification, I suddenly realized that it was right for me to stay—at least for now, with Peter and Charlotte on their way. Beau was safer with me here, temporarily, than he would be if I were gone. For the moment, I could be his unlikely protector.

The thought made me anxious; I itched to be back so that I could fill that role for as long as possible.

Emmett noticed the change in my expression. What are you thinking about?

"Right now," I admitted a bit sheepishly, "I'm dying to run back to Forks and check on him. I don't know if I'll make it till Sunday night."

"Oh, hell no! You are not going home early. Let Royal cool down a little bit. Please! For my sake."

"I'll try to stay," I said doubtfully.

Emmett tapped the phone in my pocket. "Alice would call if there were any basis for your panic attack. She's as weird about this kid as you are."

I grimaced at that. "Fine. But I'm not staying past Sunday."

"There's no point in hurrying back—it's going to be sunny, anyway. Alice said we were free from school until Wednesday."

I shook my head rigidly.

"Peter and Charlotte know how to behave themselves."

"I really don't care, Emmett. With Beau's luck, he'll go wondering off into the woods at exactly the wrong moment and—" I flinched. "Peter isn't known for his self-control. I'm going back Sunday."

Emmett sighed. Exactly like a crazy person.

Beau was sleeping peacefully when I climbed up to his bedroom window early Monday morning. I'd remembered oil this time, and the window now moved silently out of my way.

I could tell by the way his hair was still relatively untangled that he'd had a less restless night than the last time I was here. He lay peacefully on his back, his arms stretched out above his head, and his mouth was slightly open. I could hear his breath moving slowly in and out between his lips.

It was an amazing relief to be here, to be able to see him again. I realized that I wasn't truly at ease unless that was the case. Nothing was right when I was away from him.

Not that all was right when I was with him, either, though. I sighed, letting the thirst fire rake through my throat. I'd been away from it too long. The time spent without pain and temptation made it all the more forceful now. It was bad enough that I was afraid to go kneel beside his bed so that I could read the titles of his book. I wanted to know the stories in his head, but I was afraid of more than my thirst, afraid that if I let myself get that close to him, I would want to be closer still…

His lips looked very soft and warm. I could imagine touching them with the tip of my finger. Just lightly…

That was exactly the kind of mistake that I had to avoid.

My eyes ran over his face again and again, examining it for changes. Mortals changed all the time—I was sad at the thought of missing anything…

I thought he looked… tired. Like he hadn't gotten much sleep this weekend. Had he gone out?

I laughed silently and wryly at how much that upset me. So what if he had? I didn't own him. He wasn't mine.

No, he wasn't mine—and I was sad again.

One of his hands twitched, and I noticed that there were shallow, barely healed scrapes across the heel of his palm. He'd been hurt? Even though it was obviously not a serious injury, it still disturbed me. I considered the location, and decided he must have tripped. That seemed a reasonable explanation, all things considered.

It was comforting to think that I wouldn't have to puzzle over either of these small mysteries forever. We were friends now—or, at least, trying to be friends. I could ask him about his weekend—about the beach, and whatever late night activity had made him look so weary. I could ask what had happened to his hands. And I could laugh a little when he confirmed my theory about them.

I smiled gently as I wondered whether or not he had fallen into the ocean. I wondered if he'd had a pleasant time on the outing. I wondered if he'd thought about me at all. If he'd missed me even the tiniest portion of the amount that I'd missed him.

I tried to picture him in the sun on the beach. The picture was incomplete, though, because I'd never been to First Beach myself. I only knew how it looked in pictures…

I felt a tiny qualm of unease as I thought about the reason why I'd never once been to the pretty beach located just a few minutes run from my home. Beau had spent the day at La Push—a place where I was forbidden, by treaty, to go. A place where a few old men still remembered the stories about the Cullens, remembered and believed them. A place where our secret was known…

I shook my head. I had nothing to worry about there. The Quileutes were bound by treaty, too. Even if Beau had run into one of those aging sages, they could reveal nothing. And why would the subject ever be broached? Why would Beau think to voice his curiosity there? No—the Quileutes were perhaps the one thing I did not have to worry about.

I was angry with the sun when it began to rise. It reminded me that I could not satisfy my curiosity for days to come. Why did it choose to shine now?

With a sigh, I ducked out his window before it was light enough for anyone to see me here. I meant to stay in the thick forest by his house to see him off to school, but when I got into the trees, I was surprised to find the trace of his scent lingering on the trail there.

I followed it quickly, curiously, becoming more and more worried as it led deeper into the darkness. What had Beau been doing out here?

The trail stopped abruptly, in the middle of nowhere in particular. He'd gone just a few steps off the trail, into the ferns, where he'd touched the trunk of a fallen tree. Perhaps sat there…

I sat where he had, and looked around. All he would have been able to see was ferns and forests. It had probably been raining—the scent was washed out, having never set deeply into the tree.

Why would Beau have come to sit here alone—and he had been alone, no doubt about that—in the middle of the wet, murky forest?

It made no sense, and, unlike those other points of curiosity, I could hardly bring this up in casual conversation.

So, Beau, I was following your scent through the woods after I left your room where I'd been watching you sleep… Yes, that would be quite the ice breaker.

I would never know what he'd been thinking and doing here, and that had my teeth grinding together in frustration. Worse, this was far too much like the scenario I'd imagined for Emmett—Beau wandering alone in the woods, where his scent would call to anyone who had the senses to track it…

I groaned. Not only did he have bad luck, but he courted it.

Well, for this moment, he had a protector. I would watch over him, keep him from harm, for as long as I could justify it.

I suddenly found myself wishing that Peter and Charlotte would make an extended stay.