Okay party peeps... One quick note.

This was my VERY FIRST story, and, over the course of it, you will see my evolution as an author, as well as my shift in who it is I like within the Twiverse. I started this story in 2010, and it was completed in November of 2012. It has NOT been overhauled, and most of it was never beta'ed. It has had some basic editing to it, but nothing huge. Nothing was removed. It is going up as it was when it was taken down.

A WORD OF WARNING...

If you are a NEW READER, as in, you found me AFTER I pulled and reposed my stories, this story will PISS YOU OFF. If you do not like the idea of mate training, or you don't like misogynists, THIS STORY WILL PISS YOU OFF. I don't wanna hear it, because this is your warning.

Jasper is not a nice guy. He is an asshole, and it doesn't change for the vast majority of the story. He has very few, if any, redeeming qualities. You will hate him, and you'll likely hate me for what I do with him, and ultimately, to him. Again, this is your warning, so no bitching at me for it.

That said, this story is mostly in Jasper's POV. It will be marked otherwise, and starting in chapter 28, it switches to 3rd person and finishes out that way, because, again, this story changes as I made my evolution as an author. You'll get to see the good, bad, and the ugly as I found myself as a story teller.

I'll let you get to it, but keep in mind, this is 'Darksper', and he's a cock.

~Speklez

*X*

If there is anything on this planet that I fucking hate, besides cheating little pixie ex wives, it's goddamned newborns, strong as shit and fucking moody. Let me clarify, by moody I mean think of them as a chick with both pregnancy hormones and the worst case of PMS. Ever. But I digress. My job as the resident empath is to keep the fuck faces under control. Not an easy thing to do. It would be easier to shit a monkey than keep them under control. They kick, punch, scream, and fucking bite. Hard. Ever been bitten by a dog? Yeah this is worse.

Now every few decades I get one that stands out. Either they have a gift or they don't live very long. I had one once that only lived 15 minutes. A personal best. But that son of a bitch tried to take away my current conquest. There are two things that you do NOT do. You do not attack the mistress Maria, and you do not under any circumstances fuck with my pussy.

Who am I you ask? Why is my fuck buddy good enough to be defended to the literal death? I am Jasper fucking Whitlock, the God of War, and the most feared mother fucker to ever grace the vampire world. I took a break for a few decades, but now I'm back and more pissed off than ever. Some say that I am nothing more than a slave driver, making newborns bend to the will of my mistress, well, that's because we never met. Even the Volturi don't fuck with me. And in my world that's saying something.

But again I digress. Back to what I was talking about before I got off topic. Newborns. I hate 'em, with every fiber of my being. But just because I don't like the animal wannabes does not mean I do not like my job. Quite the opposite really, I love it. My second in command, Peter, seems to think that I take it to seriously at times, I disagree. He is not on the front lines during their training. Battle, yes, at my side at all times. Training though, fuck no. That Yoda freak 90 present of the time is nowhere to be found. Still cannot believe I was able to convince him and his mate to come bake with me. I am not sure if it was just keep an eye on me or what but it's just like old times and I could not be happier than I am right now. Back in my real element, not trying to be something I'm not. It's fucking great.

I am currently waiting for the five that are changing right now to wake up. Should be about six hours or so from now for the first one to come to. That is just about my favorite part. The very first they see in this life is me, and it scares the shit out of them. Newborn instincts are much sharper that of an older vampire but both know I am not one to fuck with. My entire upper body is cover with battle scars. For those that do not know what those are, they are bite marks. It shows how many others of our kind I have fought and how many I have killed. Everyone that sees me is on edge right off the bat. And let me tell you, there is no better way to get your aggression out than a newborn that first wakes up and attacks. Hence why I love it so much.

I was pulled from my mental musing by a knock on my cabin door.

"Major, the first one is about to wake up. I say within the next three minutes."

With a smirk I pulled off the black wife beater I was wearing and walked behind Peter to the changing tent. Brand new newborn. Yippy ki fucking yay.