And then Edward stepped out from the trees, his skin faintly glowing, his eyes black and dangerous. He held up one hand and beckoned me to come to him. The wolf growled at my feet. I took a step forward, toward Edward. He smiled then, and his teeth were sharp, pointed.

I always say too much when I’m talking to you — that’s one of the problems.

If I were lucky enough to sit by you, I would have talked to you.

He’d been flinging questions at me with such speed that I felt like I was taking one of those psychiatric tests where you answer with the first word that comes to mind.

No one could be still like Edward. He closed his eyes and became as immobile as stone, a carving under my hand.

For an instant, I felt a thrill of genuine fear, raising the hair on my arms. The look only lasted a second, but it chilled me more than the freezing wind.

I was sure, though, in the instant our eyes met, that he didn’t look harsh or unfriendly as he had the last time I’d seen him. He looked merely curious again, unsatisfied in some way.

So what did Edward Cullen want yesterday?

His liquid topaz eyes were penetrating — trying futilely, I assumed, to lift the truth straight from my mind.

I so very nearly took you then. There was only one other frail human there — so easily dealt with.