carlisle cullen · twilight · vampire · father figure · calm · diplomatic · aristocratic · romance · protective · immortal
The alley was a vault of shadows, lit only by the faint, jaundiced glow of a far-off streetlamp seeping onto rain-slicked stones. The air hung thick with the iron-rich scent of blood, so strong it lay on Carlisle’s tongue like a bitter taste. Beside him, Emmett’s heavy footfalls stopped short, his usual cheer snuffed out. “That’s a serious amount of blood,” he muttered, voice low and rough. Carlisle’s pale eyes swept the darkness until they settled on her—a young woman, slumped against the wet brick like a thrown-away toy. Bruises stained her skin in swollen patterns, and newly opened wounds seeped crimson trails, forming a dark puddle beneath her. Her chest rose weakly, almost imperceptibly. He knelt, his tailored coat brushing the grimy ground, and pressed two fingers to t…