I don't own twilight, sorry!

This story is about Jacob finding love in someone other than Bella or her child. While I love the twilight saga and how it ended, I can't help but feel that Jacob was a bit abused throughout the story, and tying him to Renesmee as his imprint, seemed like a wonderfully happy ending and cruel joke, at the same time. I have created a new fictitious character, Vasha Sahri, a Kenyan native who is part human, part deity and is based on actual old wives tales from my native Kenya. Her character draws from great books and comics that I have read and loved in the past, including Ororo Monroe (Storm from the X-men), Animorphs, and the Aya Matanga, a supposed femme fatale that lives in the jungles in remote parts of Africa. I just wanted to see Jake happy without the Cullen family, but still maintaining a strong kinship with them. It starts off slow to get a feel for the story, but I promise heat is coming! It is based off of events that have taken place in the real series, but edited to include the new character. I was just tired of seeing Jake as an emotional punching bag all the time! R&R please!

Chapter 1.

-Vasha-

I packed listlessly. This had been one of my favorite places, after all. Sure, most people may not think much of West Virginia, but the rolling greens, endless woods and natural springs were home for me, but not anymore. It was time to move on- again.

My uncle Nedu peeked into the room and gave me an inquiring look. I nodded in answer. Yea, I was just about ready. I appreciated that he did not get started on a long winded conversation about the greater good and our safety. I'd heard that enough.

I moved through the motions of our relocation without noticing much. The cab and deadening wait at the airport terminal eventually lead to us settling into our first class suite on the evening flight. I stared out of the window and marveled at the clouds. I drifted off into a peaceful sleep as I wondered what lay ahead for us in Forks.

For a place that had such beautiful natural scenery, it sure lacked in about every other department.

Where's the sun, uncle? He chuckled at my question. You will grow accustomed, Vasha. We always do.

We went through the familiar rigmarole of enrolling me in high school, finding adequate transportation, and all the rest of it. Before long, a perky redheaded realtor named Donna was showing us into our new home.

As she prattled on about stainless steel appliances and two fireplaces, I stared off into the woods, entranced by the lush forestry. I could hear the soft, fluid movement of the water, the air tingled….

"Is she ok?" Donna asked concerned. "There are tons of attractions for the younger crowd, you know." She continued. "Movies, shopping,…" She trailed off as she watched me move towards the woods.

"She'll be fine. We love it already. Thank you so much for your time." Uncle Nedu deftly walked her to her car, but by then I was already gone.

I was the first one in the class that morning. I looked around, nervously. This is insane. I can't be the new kid and ridiculously early, too! I quickly grabbed my things and hurried out of the room. As I rushed out, I glanced at my reflection in the window across the room. My ivory sweater dress sat snugly against my full hips and ample bosom. Black leggings and shiny, flat ballet style shoes rounded off the outfit. The deep cowl neck revealed a shapely neck. I studied my face. Heart shaped, with loose, reddish brown waves of hair piled and pinned on the top of my head. My honey colored eyes, large and almond shaped, narrowed as they looked over my high cheekbones and soft, plump lips. My smooth, chocolate colored skin was flawless. Not a scratch, mark, or trace of acne. I didn't look a day over 18. I also didn't look like a cold-blooded killer.

"Not bad for almost eighty." I murmured to myself.

I scurried down the hallway and back outside to sit in my black Chevy Malibu. It was not the most recent model, but still quite nice. Not that I really needed a car, anyway. I had been tempted to drive something flashier. I loved convertibles. The air swirling around me as I tear down the road with the top down….. But I knew better. I cannot draw attention. I laughed derisively at that thought. Attention was my middle name.

Kids started pulling up in cars and clambering off the buses. Finally. As swarms of students started moving into the building, I grabbed my bag and headed for the door. I walked with my head down, my black waist length pea coat on, hands deep in my pockets. Even then, I could feel eyes on me. Some were quick peeks. Some were drawn out glances. Some were full-on stares. I dared to look up and take stock of my new student body. They were all different shapes and sizes- and all mortals.

I bustled through the building, allowing myself to get lost and jostled about in the crowd. A male teacher eyed me the entire length of the hallway. Gross.

The next thing I knew I had stopped dead in my tracks. The noise from the chattering kids, shuffling feet and slamming lockers had drowned completely out of my hearing. It was down to a low hum in the background. I abandoned my face down pose and twirled around twice, looking for any sign of what had just caused my severe anxiety and discomfort.

Then I saw them.