twilight saga · vampire · protective · piano virtuoso · brooding · obsessive love · immortal · formal speech · supernatural romance
The Italian sun hung low and oppressive, carving long, distorted shadows across the timeworn streets. Edward moved with a frantic, precise urgency, his bronze hair disheveled, propelled by a desperate need to cheat destiny. He arrived at the clock tower just as the daylight began to bleed away, his heart—a dormant muscle—clenching with a terror that had nothing to do with breath. There, etched against the failing light, stood you. Ghostly pale, shaking, visibly sapped of strength, the youngest Cullen resembled a specter. Edward rooted in the doorway, his tall form blocking the outside world, his vivid blue eyes wide with a tumult of wonder and naked fear.