A/N; This has now been Beta'd by my good friend Frannie Walsh. She makes all my Edward/Bella stories pretty usually, but she agreed to do this one for me too. She is amazing like that!
Warnings; Violence/language/abuse.
Chapter One.
Jasper Whitlock walked down the wet dark streets searching for his next meal. The inky blacknes soothed himlike nothing else could. He felt almost normal here, in the safety of near total darkness. He was something to be feared. He saw himselfas a monster, and he was. His humanity had long since been stripped from him, leaving only a pale shadow of the man he had once been.
His gift was a blessing and a curse. In the beginning, he had hated the explosion of emotions that bombarded him each time he killed. Now he fed off the fear and pain; it was a balm to his dark soul. He now knew, after three hundred years, that no one could move him to pity. He had killed them all and enjoyed their suffocating fear: he had drunk it down with their blood and relished each drop. He had taken women, girls, young, idealistic men and old weathered grandfathers who sometimes secretly wished for their end to come and remove them from this life.
Tiredness.
It burdened Jasper with its heaviness. Long endless miles stretched beneath weary feet and legs too weak to bare the weight any longer. Those were the ones he felt he was helping – almost – because the fear that filled them when they saw his eyes and felt his unrelenting grip was suffocating, cloying and inescapable. No amount of pleasure could obliterate that fear. Jasper had long since made himself numb; embracing their fear instead of hiding from it. He was a creature of the night, a monster who took dreams and crushed them beneath the weight of his thirst. That damnable, ever-present craving that would crush anything and anyone under its weight.
He moved at a human pace, slow and measured, each footfall echoing strangely against the damp walls. This small town was filled with abundant pickings, careless mortals wandering home, unaware and unprotected; city folks were more aware and harder to fool or lure to a quiet location. Not that it mattered; of course, Jasper Whitlock was a deadly hunter. He struck with the swift precision of a jaguar, sometimes taking mortals before they even knew he was stalking them.
At other times, like now, he enjoyed the chase. Eternity was such a fucking long time without some diversion. Hunting was a natural sport for his kind. Being at the top of the food chain was always a plus; a grim smirk twisted his firmly sensuous lips at that thought. Some immortals filled the endlessly long decades with sexual pursuits or gambling, amassing such vast fortunes that no one could spend it all in several forevers. Pointless, stupid pastimes that held no real interest to Jasper, although he participated in them from time to time.
He preferred the hunt.
He had hated his weakness when it had first become apparent that he was a gifted immortal; gifted with the power to influence and sense each emotion his prey gave off. It was a curse as well as a blessing. The bitch who had created him had made a game of his gift, showing him how to use it to his advantage...to play with his prey. But he had hated knowing just how much his food feared him...how much they didn't wish to die. It had quite literally put him off eating for a few decades. Until the day that he realized he shouldn't be hiding from the very essence of who and what he was. He didn't wish to die and so they must. It was that simple, and eventually, he gained that acceptance.
Perfect hearing told him his prey was close, as well as the delicious scent that had lured him here to begin with...the aroma becoming stronger with each human step he took. He cocked his head to one side in a wholly inhuman gesture at the unmistakable sound of someone being abused. Shouting and whimpering cries ricocheted off the dingy, peeling walls.
A growl escaped his mouth at the distinct sound of a child being beaten. It was one rule he never deviated from; he had never killed children. Many times, his maker had taken great pleasure in killing them in front of him, which had always resulted in a fight between the two. Jasper didn't want to kill at all, but if he must, he would be damned if he would kill those who had not had the chance to live. The twisted morality of that sentiment was not lost on Jasper, for he thought nothing of killing someone only slightly older.
Jasper bent into a crouch and scaled the wall, fluidly, as though he had eight legs instead of two. Supernatural gravity seemed to keep him attached to the man-made edifice as he climbed along the vertical structure towards a window. His muscular limbs clutched effortlessly to the stone, jaw-length blond hair falling forwards to frame a face of stunning masculine beauty. His red eyes were intense as he observed the scene within.
A small human girl was cowering against the far wall, her legs drawn up into a fetal position, arms wrapped around her head, shielding her face from view. Wildly tangled long hair spilled out across her thin bruised shoulders. Rich and vibrantly dark, it glowed with the richness of a conker shell. An ugly, pot-bellied caricature of a man stood above her, screaming obscenities at the frightened girl. The child looked as if she couldn't be more than twelve years old. Another snarl slipped from between Jasper's lips as he slowly climbed through the window and lithely rose to his feet behind the ugly human. It was immediately apparent to him that the delicious scent, was, in fact coming from the small girl on the floor, not from the obscenely disgusting specimen of humanity before him.
In such close quarters, that mouthwatering and undeniably delicious scent was concentrated, and Jasper breathed it in greedily through his nose and mouth, relishing the aroma of absolute temptation as it rolled across his tongue. He wanted her, fuck; it was a gut-wrenching desire so strong it shook his whole being. His fangs lengthened, and venom filled his mouth. He swallowed slowly relishing the thought of the kill.
Never before, in his three hundred years had he felt a need this intense; it threatened to send him to his knees.
The girl whimpered and then cried out as the man grabbed her by the arm and yanked her to her feet roughly.
"No, please!" The girl pleaded her softly cultured voice as sweet as an angel's bell. "I can't do it. Please let me go. Don't make me do it!"
Her face, now revealed, stunned him still further. Far from being the child he had imagined, she was a delicate, if small, young woman. The soft curves of her body gave testament to the fact that she was at the very least six years older than he had imagined. Her pale oval face, perfect in its smooth untroubled beauty framed eyes so dark they at first appeared black. Only his inhuman vision told him that they were, in fact, a dark, fathomless brown. Plump, pale pink lips were parted in fear to release gasping, ragged breaths. Her face and body were covered in dark, angry bruises. Her unfocused eyes told Jasper instantly that she was not gifted with sight. His heart fell for the beautiful young woman. One of humanity's greatest gifts had been denied to her, and he felt a surge of pity, an emotion he hadn't felt since the very beginning.
How strange that this girl should move him so.
Jasper knew what he would do, but delayed while he studied the girl. It would be a kindness to take her life, abused as she was, as well as an unimaginable pleasure. Two meals in one, how lucky could he get?
The ugly man lifted his heavy hand to strike another blow to the small girl; Jasper casually reached out and grabbed it, easily securing the fleshy limb, before it could connect with her tender white skin another time. The man gave out a startled cry as Jasper continued to tighten his hold until his bones audibly cracked beneath the force.
"What the fuck?" The man moaned in terror. "Who are you? Get out of my house! Let go of my arm, ouch, oh, fuck, let me go, you fucking moron!"
Jasper grinned at him, cocked his head as an animal would when regarding something strange and undoubtedly amusing. His dark, red inhuman eyes frightening and intensely deadly.
"Let her go," Jasper ordered, his deep bass echoing in the almost empty room.
The girl froze at the sound of his voice and then quite strangely, she relaxed. Jasper could feel her emotions were hopeful and not at all fearful. A small smile played around her generous mouth as she turned her face in his direction. Her beautifully arched dark brows were winged and a startling contrast against her pearly skin. She was as lovely as a work of art, he decided.
Jasper felt a surge of protectiveness and stared in shock at the small human girl. Who the hell was she to arouse such long-dormant emotions in his long-dead heart?
Jasper tightened his hold still further on the stodgy, foul-smelling flesh of the ugly man as bones snapped, and the man cried out in pain.
"Please! Please let me go!" The fat man begged, releasing the girl and falling to his knees before Jasper.
The girl slumped to the floor and then scrambled to the safety of the corner, with a dexterity born of necessity and practice. There she huddled expectantly, waiting for who knew what, her dark brown eyes staring in the general vicinity of her savior, trustingly.
"You beg for mercy, and yet you gave none to her," Jasper said, his voice devoid of emotion and deadly in its very calm.
"She deserves none!" The man declared. Surprise tingeing his voice at why this stranger would even care. "She is nothing but the daughter of a whore and useless as well. I was simply beating her until she gave into her fate."
"And what fate would that be?" Jasper asked almost politely.
"She is blind and therefore useless to me, I wished her to go to work as a whore – it's all she is good for anyway. Her face and body will soon earn her keep." The ugly man explained while he gripped his injured limb where it was still held in an inescapable grip.
He stupidly chose to ignore the threatening growl that was rumbling in Jasper's broad chest.
"Who is she to you?" Jasper asked pulling the arrogant man up towards his face.
He hesitated to answer the question, struggling futilely against the iron hold that continued to tighten at his silence. Suddenly a sickening crunch echoed dully around the room as Jasper snapped his arm completely. The howl of pain that left the man's lips was agonized and desperate; the now useless limb dangling at an ugly angle, only skin holding it together.
"I will twist every fucking limb off your body if you don't answer me, you fucking scum bag." Jasper snarled directly into the man's tear-streaked face.
"She…she is my wife's niece. Isabella Swan." The man's eyes filled with malice and dimmed the previous pain. "She is a fucking useless cunt."
Jasper smirked at the man's failed attempt to anger him. "You are the one who is fucking useless." He said as he grinned fully, revealing sharply pointed canine teeth, which were gleaming with venom.
The stupid man's eyes popped in shock at the sight. "N...no." he stammered, "No…no…please – what are you?"
"Your worst nightmare." Jasper said as he sank his teeth into the soggy fetid skin of the blubbery man. Although the human was disgusting, blood was blood and was always good. Its warmth flooded his cold body as he swallowed, infusing his ice-cold flesh with false life. His shimmering red eyes were fixed on the eagerly waiting form of the girl while he drank. The man's struggles soon ceased with a soft gurgle as his body was drained of blood.
A small crease furrowed her brow as she studied the odd sounds that filled the room, trying to pinpoint their causes. Her emotions were still trusting and very hopeful. She didn't yet fear her strange rescuer.
Jasper's hunger was far from satisfied, the delicious scent of the small girl's blood called to him with unrelenting cries. He lifted and threw the now, pale white, drained corpse easily and threw it out the window where it landed with a loud thud.
The girl startled in fright and cowered for the first time as her savior approached.
She had obviously been blinded at a young age and thus knew each sound and its meaning by heart. She knew the stranger was approaching now, and she was suddenly terrified.
Jasper reached her and lifted her chin with one, long cold finger against her skin. A shiver shook her small frame, and Jasper eagerly tasted her emotions to gauge her reaction. The touch of her skin rocked him to his core; an electric current surged through his body from the point of contact. Blindingly, all-encompassing desire followed in its wake, and he finally understood why he was so drawn to this little human.
The old stories finally made sense, and in a blinding flash of recognition, he saw his singer and his mate wrapped up in one, pint-sized package.
Holy fuck, no.
Jasper growled in frustration as he considered the weight of the decision he was about to make. He tasted the sweet, delectable weight of her trust and the delicious course of pure desire that shook her slender body. It fueled his own rampant lust, and he barely contained the urge to cover her lips with his own.
If he drank her sweetly scented blood now and sated the terrible thirst she engendered, he would lose a chance at finally having a mate. A companion to this eternity. But the hunger her blood bred in him was vicious and all-consuming, the pulse of her blood beneath the thin, pale membrane of her translucent skin made his fangs prick his stone flesh.
Without thought, he lowered his nose to her neck and inhaled deeply. Her eyes slid shut, and she whimpered in desire. Her confusion was apparent by her wildly veering emotions.
Suddenly, Jasper picked her up against his chest his arms holding her as tightly as he dared. She locked her slender arms around his neck and lowered her head onto his chest without a murmur of protest. He paused for a moment before jumping from the window.
Whatever the outcome of this night turned out to be, he was taking her to his home, a place where he could debate this startling dilemma in peace, without the threat of discovery.