xxii. suckerpunch

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"Thought I'd be seeing you here."

Kiara snorted as she looked across the river, the familiar blonde vampire smiling softly at her from the other side of the treaty line. She huffed a little, regretting storming off from the house as now she had no clothes to change into if she shifted back.

"Alice said she thought I'd encounter you - well, one of you but process of elimination meant it was likely going to be you - so I came prepared," Carlisle spoke, his voice almost hitting Kiara's ears like a melody. She knew that was something else she was going to have to get used to - the whimsical chimes of the Cullens' voices. Kiara looked up, just moving in time to avoid the small drawstring bag from smacking into her.

She knew Carlisle was a vampire obviously, but there was something jarring about seeing the gentle and peaceful man throw the bag over the river without even breaking a sweat. She knew it was the super strength that came with being one of their kind, but it was still so new to her.

Kiara sniffed at the bag, her nose turning up ever so slightly at the vampire scent on the clothes. She heard Carlisle's chuckle from across the river, the man knowing not to take offence to her instinctual reaction. He cared deeply for the girl across the river, and he was positive that they would all manage to get through this unusual situation.

She looked back at him, noticing that he had turned around to allow her a moment to change. She made a note to thank him before shifting, groaning a little as her bones clicked back into place. It was no secret that it was more uncomfortable for her and Leah sometimes, and she was sure that her refusing to shift and rejecting the imprint bond was only making it more unbearable.

"Thanks," Kiara muttered, sitting down on the rock forge and letting her legs dangle above the river below. She'd been out here many times as a child and her father would always get angry when he found out, and she guessed it made sense as to why now. The Cullen coven might not have been here during those years, but the tribe had always tried to avoid crossing the line unless necessary. "For the clothes, and for turning around."

"Anytime," Carlisle replied, a small smile on his face. He took her in for a minute, looking at her with the knowledge that she was rejecting the imprint between herself and Rosalie. He knew that Edward and Jasper had told the others it seemed like a painful process, but now that Carlisle was up close with the girl he could really see the toll it was taking on her.

Her eyes seemed dull compared to their usual molten brown, instead looking drained. Her cheeks were a little sunken in and the bags under her eyes were large and dark. She seemed to be almost drained from transforming back to her human form, and Carlisle couldn't help but feel empathy for the girl.

"We've missed seeing you around," Carlisle said, his words very clearly having been picked carefully to not anger Kiara. She smiled a little, knowing that the man was nothing if not genuine. She might be wired to hate vampires and indirectly the Cullens, but she had always appreciated the warmth of the man. Kiara almost snorted at the thought, now knowing that he was (physically) anything but warm.

"Yeah," Kiara muttered in reply, not quite sure what to say. She was still bitter about them leaving but she was finding it hard to hold the grudge now that she knew the truth behind what really happened. The pack had told her that Bella had cut her finger, causing Jasper to almost kill her in retaliation. Her brother had known since Bella had found out he was a wolf - he'd known the real reason as to why Rosalie and her family had left and he'd never told her. "Had to protect the family, I get it."

Carlisle knew she was not longer talking about her not coming around, but the day that the Cullens left her behind. It wasn't like Bella - it wasn't all she knew, but it still hurt. The man with the golden eyes nodded, sensing that Kiara wasn't ever really going to blame them for leaving but also knowing that she had every right to be upset at the way it all happened.

petrichor [rosalie hale]Where stories live. Discover now