AN: Well this is just a little story, which is going to be short, so I can get the juices flowing for my other stories.

*Any mistakes are all my own and I own nothing of Twilight*

FYI for some of you who already read this, I am reposting because I felt some of Jasper's inside story just wasn't enough so I added something here and there and did the ending just a little different. In my opinion it seems a tad but more solid. You can look for the next update tomorrow, it's done but since I'm really not bothering with a beta, though I probably should, it's going to take me a little while to beta it myself. Now, for ya'll who are just tuning in enjoy!

*The Major*

Tonguing the creases, swirling the slightly rounded tip, even licking the underside of my nails, I make sure the remaining essence is transferred to my ever insatiable hunger. I'm a deliberate addict and I fucking chose to never do without. My dependency is pure and I thrive on it. Once in the awakening knowledge of finding my everlasting beloved, I contemplated ceasing my intake of what I consider a delicacy- I'm an addict, doing without doesn't resonate with me. And I know for damn sure he would accept me either way.

Since I've found him and studied him from afar, I've come to have a disdain taste of his endlessly accepting nature- never have I witness his innocence and giving heart working in his favor. Before I finally make myself known unto him, I will have avenged his kindness they have taken for granted and the abuse they have afflicted upon him.

It will be a sick icy night.

My mate; my nature bound companion, is in all consideration, weak. The moment I laid eyes upon him it was evident, the moment Peters' gripping strength and rushed whispered words stoically held me in place from killing such a weak mate and making room for nature to produce me another, it was very fucking evident. His very presence and runt form swallowed my emotions in an eerier darkened hate.

The hate I was feeling for him was the same hate I felt from my commanding officers in the war; hate that the whites had for the slaves being freed, hate I have felt from murders and rapist for themselves and others, the grounding and utterly bitter emotions of the Civil Rights movement; the same disgust I had had for myself in the early years of my immortality.

It was that strong. And I felt no sympathy for what emotions coursed through my stone flesh concerning him.

I couldn't stand the idea of someone like him being meant for me. I could give a damn ounce if my intended mate was male, no, what I just couldn't fathom or accept was him in general.

It was no secret amongst my world that I was a powerful motherfucker. I ruled the underground and made sure the true realization of immortality existed stayed a secret to the general human population. To make this possible I had people within the government as well. The greater of human population maybe ignorant, but history can't always be hidden, so it was unavoidable that one day someone word figure us out, no matter how inconspicuous we tried to be. We serve our country as any enlisted soldiers would on special missions in exchange for keeping what we are on the low.

Humans discovering real immorality would cause a terrible imbalance and the 'men in the chairs' knew this. They also knew we could rule if it was our wish. So I ran my world and my world also help run the mortal world. My shit was that tight.

I was the face of what I ruled over, my image was up most important and having a thing like him by my side would have lessened my strength upon the world I owned; defiantly not psychically for no one could top me, but the steel guard of people I kept in my presence and one look of him in the mist of highly skilled and murderous vampires, my shit would have appeared soft and weakening. Jasper Whitlock wasn't soft. I was a cool smooth motherfucker, in ever aspect I brought and played the games hard with skill and procession.

Loose ends like him served as an injustice that I would have it justified with nature by taking his ass out; only thing that put me in my place in Peters' arms was what he said to me, "You do it and you're along forever. There wasn't a mistake when he was made; you're not intended to have another. You already have it. Look fucking closer, for Christ sakes, fucking feel for once!" He hissed the last words to me, shaking me in a rough manner from his position behind me. I would have clocked the fucker if I didn't want to make a scene. His ass paid later for his disrespect though.

I did as Peter recommended and let my gaze fall upon his disfigured form, I remember almost wrenching if I could have from the sight that seemingly mockingly haunted me then. His legs were my first focus; to me they looked as if they were like two baby boomerangs…maybe bent back paper clips. They were skinny and while his left leg obviously turned inward, his right leg was straight forward. The muscle mass in them were almost gone as the skin seemed to tighten around pure bone. His thighs shook with the effect of him walking or more so scooting and dragging his feet.

His deformity made me despise him even more.

The things body to me was infirm; fucking delicate, sickly and anemic, and as I observed him more for the first time I also noticed that his spine had a small crave that made his body go two ways in different directions almost. It was something you would notice if you truly focused. Once again this only proved even more to me that he was weak. Spineless.

I huffed drastically in amplified frustration, I simply just didn't fucking understand what was happening. Without a doubt this bitch was my mate; I smelt it, felt the fibers in my dead body sparking. I felt that draw, his scent not only calling to me, not in a sexual way, but in an 'I am for you' way. But the complexity I faced of him being meant for me kept my mind flummoxed; vampires were guided by nature's laws in; we mated for life, our mates were combatable for us, we protected each other at all cost and we are given mates who are built to with stand our world. He contradicted every law.

In my world I was the lion and forever ruled over the pride; no one would ever take over my kingdom, I was the strongest and most powerful until this world cest to exist any longer, I would remain above my rock. The head cock.

So it was by nature's law that my mate would also be of great strength, never surpassing me, but powerful none the less. If I happened to die then they would be the rightful one to replace me and take over what I leave behind. If there was a war then I expected them to protect our immortal and mortal world by fighting and also protecting me if need be. This was how is should be, all my closest guards found it in their mates, even Peter, and his woman is one bad broad; queen of the damned herself. The fierce love, sheer closeness, pure intimacy, trust, devotion, unspoken words of unimaginable emotions they shared was something I also yearned to have. I craved the one calming touch from my mate. I needed what they had.

It wasn't possible for him to be those things for me and I for him. It just wasn't. I was no fool in not understanding that if I didn't take the mate meant for me, I would never be whole as a man. Fuck that, I'd stay half then have a disgrace and embarrassment like him by my side.

Looking as him made me ill.

I moved along to his arms that rested and firmly gripped the cheap four legged-leg walker, it was easy to see that he needed a new one. This one was not proper for his…retardation. Apart from the rest of his body, his arms held strength; they were small, yet in a way a little toned. I could see his hands as he in a brief second released one of the walker handles to stretch his figures; they were long and slender, soft.

Another shiver of disdain.

He wasn't man enough…he wasn't a real man…he wasn't a man.

The runts neck was or could have been in perfect proportion if the things body wasn't disfigured. The neck was the first thing that gave me a very small ting of desire. It would have been perfect for gripping in my large hands as I would imagine him giving into his blissful state of beautiful submission or bending him over as I took him from behind, I could see myself letting my figures trail up his smooth neck and spreading my fingers around it as I gripped it tightly, forcing his body back towards my fluent harsh thrust. His neck was long enough to not look abnormal, thick enough to not mistake it for effeminate, elegant enough to be photographic and in the middle of his neck between his small Adams apple and the lovely dip in his neck at the bottom close to his collar bone; between those two was a mole and somehow that mole made his neck more appealing.

Trailing my eyes further along, I saw the edges of both side of his jaw. They show cased the remnants of him becoming a young man…though he would never be a real man. He was weak. All I noticed about them was the sharpness; a shape most would envy. I guess he was lucky to have that one attribute.

Nothing else about him appeared special, worthy of my attention, of my touch, of my love, of my protection. I may have been a creature of a dark soul but he was truly vile…

Feeling a steady presence, I am interrupted from reminiscing by the appearance of Peter.

"Major Sir, it's time to start."

*So thoughts, do you like it so far? Reviews give me great joy.

And once again, like I previously stated in the AN you can look for the next update tomorrow.