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The Scent
By : LadyNarayamaan
Category: Twilight Series > Het
Views: 5059 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Twilight or make any money from this story.
Chapter List
- 1
- 2
AN - Part One - First story.

I have edited this thing so much it's even bothering me.

About the story:

This takes place after the end of Eclipse.

Edit for poll reasons: Poll running at the end of chapter 9. Poll issue: Edward Cullen. /edit

-**The Scent**-

The train was moving swiftly on its tracks.
It was a normal train ride. One could see the stereotypical genres of people: the business man with a slack tie, thinking of his family wistfully gazing out the window, the small sleeping child sitting on his mother’s lap while she slid her fingers absentmindedly through his wild locks, the quiet young man moving his head to the song blasting between his ears. The lightly snoring man.

And then there were two figures, that no one was looking at and that in their stance weren’t looking at anything either.
He was sitting, with his shoulders slightly slumped, black eyes staring unseeingly at his boots.
She had her eyes closed, arms tightly wrapped around her form, dressed in a sea of black.
Him, sighing.
She pretending she was asleep.
His mind entertaining painful thoughts of unrequited love.
Hers dealing with her own.

Two names that were summoned into pain, in both minds.

He sighed again.
She shifted and held herself tighter, as if this would make her feel less alone, if even for a short period of time.

Him running away.

She returning.

Two rows of seats away from each other.

The train clerk passed to see if any new passengers had boarded the train, and preparing for the next stop.

The train stopped. The business man almost bolted out the door, passing from his seat, a row behind the girl. In his rush, pushing air around him, passing by the dark eyed man, as he turned to step out the train.

And suddenly the black eyes widened considerably.

The smell. The gust of air provoked by the business man brought a scent with him. And his eyes darted up, as the smell lingered and then disappeared, faded.

He took in the inside of the composition for the first time since he boarded the thing.
Eyes scanning every face, as people entered and sat, others standing and leaving, while the train remained in the same place.

Where had that smell come from?

It wasn’t from the man; he could very well discern it in between the heavenly smell that attacked his nostrils.

Was it a perfume?
No, it was too organic. Too… alive. Not flowers.

Where had it come from?

He crossed his arms over his broad chest gaining attention from a two set of young girls, sitting parallel to him.
A cadence of little whispers and giggles, which he didn’t even realise, were because of him.

Instinct was in automatic. That scent, that scent, what was it?

The girls weren’t the cause. They had entered after he sensed it. So it was someone that was already inside the train.

The composition had two doors. The man passed from the middle of the train to him. Where had he been sitting? The smell, God, the smell. He just wanted to feel it again.

Pure raw instinct.

He looked around, dark raven eyebrows creased over black eyes. The train clerk talking to a man. A young woman sitting close to the window, obstructed view by the bobbing head of the snoring man.
Dirty blonde hair, eyes closed; black clothes.
The head bobbed again and she was out of view.

The train had started moving again.

There was a couple sitting in front of him, giving him their backs. Could the woman carry that scent? He relaxed and inhaled again. No.

A middle aged man tapping furiously against the keys of a little notebook, pushing his glasses over the bridge of his nose, sitting on the other side of the aisle, on the same row he was. Another young woman, about thirty, settling her things around her, preparing for a long ride. Couldn't be her either, he was positive she had entered in the last stop.

The kid with the headphones passed from behind him, walking to the bathroom, which was on the other side of the composition.

Black eyes followed him as the emerged-in-music kid diminished his speed and looked at the place that the snoring man’s head was blocking his sight from. And kept looking, passing by it, turning his head a bit and then proceed to the bathroom in his normal speed, if not a little faster.

The bobbing head swerved to the right, towards the window, and he was able to see the blonde girl was looking at the kid, her bangs obscuring her eyes, her lips in a fine line, and her posture screaming hostility.

A load bang was heard in the composition, all eyes going to it: the snoring man’s head had connected to the window rather harshly. Everyone was silent, until a loud snore was heard.

Snickering laughter was heard all around, the girls actually looking back over their seats.

Black eyes smiled a bit. That had been a harsh blow, but the man didn’t even flinch.

And then black meet green.

The smile fell from his lips.

The kid with the headphones passed by him, obscuring his sight from them, and brought something with him that made the attentive black eyes glaze over with something that he himself could only describe as need. Not that his mind was in the mood to tag the feeling.

The scent.

He breathed in a couple of times, lips slightly apart, almost as if searching for the taste of the heavenly smell that attacked him.

Greens were looking at him.

Taking in the sight presented: the rough jaw line, the raven longish hair, the darker skin that told of his Native American ascendancy. The broad chest and the muscles, which were impressive, but not grotesque in her point of view.
The black eyes that seemed to be looking at her, but unfocused.
She hated when people stared.
And now she seemed not to be able to take her eyes away from the black ones.

Her throat felt constricted so she willed a gulp.

His eyes suddenly sparked to life.

He was watching her.

And she still couldn’t make herself look away.

Two strangers, who no one was looking at. But that now were looking at each other.

She looked down, feeling her chest tight.

He kept looking. Because now he knew where the smell had came from.

She looked up, from behind her bangs, and this time, black held green ferociously.

He clenched his jaw, eyes roaming over hers. The scent. Her.

Closer.

He got up, she nearly recoiled against the seat and then her eyes hardened.

“I dare you to come any closer.”

He was enormous. Strong but almost gracious steps, taking a row closer to her. He sat, still watching.

Testing. Almost as if hunting.

She looked at him with determinate anger, her arms crossing over her chest.

The scent seemed more pronounced. His lips parted, as he breathed through them, eyes glazing over again, for less then a second.

He needed to get closer.

She was fighting between the will to be annoyed, and the realisation that she really wasn’t.

She actually wanted him to come closer. And then she knew she really shouldn’t feel that way. She felt her hand coming in contact with the seat next to her, feeling her body on automatic as it swerved towards him. Spellbound.

His breathing was profound, making his chest rise cadenced. His jaw was still clenched.

“Closer. Now.”

Spellbound.

There were no more people there.

Her breathing was also affected. And stopped, once he got up again, and sat in the same row that she was, eyes never deterring from hers.

The aisle seemed huge now. The only thing that separated them was the small corridor between rows.

Greens are pissed. At him. At herself.

Fight or flight.

He keeps breathing, intense look shared, private and intimate, even without touch.

She wants him to come closer.

He wants to come closer.

She wants… And she panics.

What is this?

What is this?

“I need to get away.”

Her body does not respond.

“Now!”

She gets up quickly, running away, to be able to breathe, to run for something her mind saw as an immediate danger. Loss of control.

His eyes glaze over and instinct kicks in as soon as her movement brings her scent to him, stronger than the first time, stronger than the lingering scent around her.

Her steps take her hurriedly to the little bathroom in the composition, her heart pounding in her ears, her hand going to her chest, trying to calm it down. Greens come to the reflection the little mirror presents to her.

And her eyes reflect back apprehension, fear, excitement, hope?

She inhales quickly, and holds her breath, willing her breathing to control itself.

Inhale.
Exhale.
Inhale.
Exhale.
Inhale.
Stop.

Her mind was trying to process what just happened. She was unable, as the sound of her still strong heartbeats kept pummelling in her ears.

She breathes in again, slowly, deeply and the gesture was left incomplete: her lungs trapped the air in them as she felt it again. The same feeling that had involved her when her body gravitated towards the dark skinned man that had been watching her.

Knowing even without having to look, she turns on herself to face the door, hands going to the little skin’s border to catch her balance.

He is there.
Her voice is nowhere to be found.

His frame occupies all the threshold of the bathroom, making it seem ridiculously small.

“Didn’t I close the damned door?”

He steps inside, and his posture screams carefulness. One of his arms goes behind him slowly, sliding the door closed.

The soft click that announced the total closure of the door seemed like an intense, strange omen.

Here, inside the small compartment, her scent is stronger. That… scent.

She could scream.
She doesn’t.
Her eyes stay wide, startled, watching every little move he does. His arm returns to its place beside him.

Breaths are scarce and rapidly cadenced.

What the hell does he think he is doing?
She couldn’t deny that there was something in the look exchanged; the tension that cracked like electricity, but…

Who the hell does he think he is?

What is he doing there?

She opened her mouth to speak, as her shielded mind decided to take this as an outrage and be angry.

And he stepped closer, when there wasn’t that much space for them to move in.

The snide sharp words she intended to bark at him became a jumble of incoherent thoughts; running from her as the intensity of the black gaze pierced through and all over her. Her hands left the sink, loosing the vice grip she had the thing in. She stepped back.

It wasn’t fear per se. But then it was.

The imagery of a little bird caught between a wall and a cat suddenly came to her mind, making her gulp.

“Closer.”

He stepped to her again and her back hit the wall, hands fisted against it, greens warning a scream that would probably never come.

He didn’t even think about it. Just the thought that he wanted to get closer, closer to that marvellous scent, reined his mind. There wasn’t anyone in the train. There was nothing to prevent him from moving even closer, and taste the scent that was driving him crazy. It was like his rational mind had left him. He just wanted to. Primal want.

He gave another small step, and there was no place for her to run. Eyes never lost each other, his almost hypnotizing her to stillness. Still, instincts are something that no animal, for as rational as one can be, can escape from. So her body swerved to the right, hands on the wall, arm’s muscles ready to impel her towards the sidewall. Maybe she could slide against it, tackling his arm, swerve to pass the sink and get away from the little compartment before he had the chance to grab her.

And as if sensing this manoeuvre, both his arms stretched forward, towards her, palms clashing fiercely against the wall behind her, at her head’s height.

Abnormal heath she could feel. Was it coming from him?

Fear and anger rose hand in hand in the green depths of her eyes, battling black ones in a wordless dispute.

He felt a grin dawning on his lips, and her heart beat even faster.

His chest was almost motionless.
Hers was constricted, barely managing a squeak past her airways.

His arms flexed, his head coming lower. Gaze never broken. And he allowed himself to breathe, deeply, thoroughly enjoying the scent that slapped all his senses into self awareness.

There. That… smell…

His jaw clenched and a little roar rumbled in his wide chest, making her muscles react to it by tensing.

“He is… going to kill me.”

______________________

AN - Part Two -

Chapter Two ---> click pretty button

Also:

"text" - means thoughts here. Random ones, from both characters.

Questions will be answered if posed.

Awaiting your review

Lady Narayamaan
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The Scent	By : LadyNarayamaan Category: Twilight Series > Het Views: 5059 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Twilight or make any money from this story.

The Scent