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Bella's alone in the forest. One would think, after James, after Laurent, after Victoria, she wouldn't dare. But Edward's refusing to change her and Jacob's heartbrokenly ignoring her, and retreat into the forest brings a sense of escape.
She only thinks she’s alone. She doesn’t perceive his approach until she’s pinned to the ground and staring up into a pair of ancient, blood-soaked eyes.
“Bella.”
“Aro.”
“You don’t seem surprised to see me.”
“You said you’d be back to check in. No one else believed you’d come so soon, but I did.”
A beat. They both know what must come next.
“Do you want to die, Bella?”
“I want to become one of you.”
“Then I’m taking matters into my own hands.”
Aro bears his teeth and Bella braces for impact but he only bites into his own wrist, calling crimson to the surface, then squeezes drops on her skin, on each limb, and the neck.
“Just plotting my course,” he explains.
As much as the Volturi treasure their civilized world, it is only a veneer. No number of manners can mask the amount of blood on their hands or their level of disregard for all they consider beneath them.
Bella looks up and catches his eyes, two red depths, wild and feral. He's giving her a gift, the one most precious to him. She asks, "Why?"
Aro looks down at her with a hint of a smile, reaches out and streaks one long finger through the sanguine droplets, mapping out the future path of his teeth. He answers, "Because you look lovely in red."