Laughter
"Are you scared of me?" Carlisle asked.
I was almost so surprised that I dropped the fork I was using to amuse myself. I lifted my eyes from the plate to stare at him. He looked more beautiful than usual, maybe it was because this distance made him more attractive. The sharp lines of his face, the distinctive frown of his lips, the curve of his jaw, the ebony of his hair—he was truly inconceivably gorgeous.
Was I scared of him? It almost made me want to laugh. I was. In some way, I was terrified of him, that he would act the same way as Richter. It was bred in me to fear men.
I clutched my fork a bit tighter, "No."