Twlight belongs to Stephenie Meyer. Not me. If it belonged to me, it would be incredibly different... ;D
AU story. Future slash. This entire chapter has like four spoken words. WTF?
The scent of blood was almost lost in the rain. Slowing from a run, Jasper lifted his face to the gusting wind. The smell of wet pine almost overwhelmed him, but the smell of blood was there, obscured beneath the scent of thick forest mud, ocean brine and the musk of cougar.
Human blood.
Injured prey.
Jasper felt his stomach clench. He couldn't do this, couldn't kill a human. Couldn't press his mouth to their neck and feel their body grow cold in his embrace. He thought of the disappointment that would show in his siblings eyes if he slacked his bloodlust. His gums ached at the thought of ripping the flesh from his prey's neck, of drinking in the blood. Of its hot, coppery taste as it spilt down his chin. Of the dying moans of his prey as the human blood pooled in his mouth.
His fingers and unclenching at the air, Jasper started towards the start of blood.
Unbeknownst to him, his eyes darkened from their usual gold to the darkest of black. Pushing his way through ferns, animal instinct guided his feet on the rutted ground. He moved slowly to keep from losing the scent in as the scents around him changed from forest to sea. Whatever, whoever, was dying out there, its heart was still pumping out blood, though Jasper doubted there was much left in its body.
Yet, it was hard with the rain, and with the scent of cougar in his nose, but there was something feral to the scent of this blood. Something animal-like.
It wasn't enough to deter Jasper. His mind had dropped into a predatory state, and the feral tinge to the blood barely raised a flicker of attention in his mind. He travelled on, drawn closer to the werewolves' border. Still, he did not slow. His mind was ravaged by the thought of blood. Of the idea of breaking skin and drinking in the dying screams. The idea haunted him. It sharpened every instinct the change had brought upon him. What did he care if he crossed a border? If he broke a treaty?
He pushed on, passing over the border into La Push territory. Ahead, the ocean lazily drew itself up onto the sandy beach, and then, just as idly, shoved itself away. Forever letting the shore think for one impossible second that it had convinced the ocean to stay, to live contentment with it, before the ocean drew away, leaving nothing but the wet memories of its touch.
Birds circled above the dying thing that lay half in the surf. Waves crashed relentlessly onto its lower half, but they didn't carry away the blood it spilt. The creature's heart blood stained the grey sand red aside its chest.
Grey, Jasper noted indistinctly as he stalked towards it. Everything was grey. The sky, the sand, the ocean. Even the boy's skin – normally such a spirited shade of brown – was grey. The only thing of colour was the blood pouring from his chest and staining the sand.
Heedless of the blood soaked sand, Jasper dropped to his knees. The smell of blood was all he could sense. It hung heavy in his nose, in his mouth. Copper mixed with the salt of the ocean and feral sweat.
Blinking himself from his daze, Jasper looked at the wounds on the boy's shirtless chest. Five deep cuts sliced from his shoulder to the end of his ribcage. Blood ran sluggishly from them now. He was lucky his prey hadn't suffered deeper wounds – it would have bled out before Jasper had found him.
The creature – no, Seth. The name was like a whisper in his mind. The sound of wind rustling through trees, raindrops against a windowpane, and the deep, joyful calm that only this creature carried. Jasper wasn't sure where it had come from. He shoved it away fiercely, moving his head closer to the blood pumping from the prey's chest. Leaning down, he delicately ran his tongue over the longest, and deepest cut.
The creature, Seth, prey – his mind couldn't decide what to call it. Whatever it was stirred beneath him. Licking blood from his own lower lip, Jasper glanced up. It was still conscious. Instinct screamed for him to leap up, rip its throat out. End any chance for it to escape. For some reason though, he hesitated.
Salt crusted the face and body of his prey. Jasper could taste it in his mouth. Copper blood. Salt. Something else, something not human.
Salt encrusted eyelashes fluttered, then lifted, revealing dulled black eyes. None of the snapping light that Jasper dimly thought should be there. The prey, Seth, whatever it was, coughed, blood spilling from its mouth, over a plump lower lip. The movement caused a great deal of blood to spill from his chest, leaking over Jasper's hand.
Deadly slow, Jasper moved towards its head, eyes locked on the blood on his lips. The creature groaned. "Ja..." It started, then coughed again. More hot blood spilled over Jasper's hand, but Jasper couldn't take his gaze from the cerise liquid staining its lower lip.
"Jasper," the creature managed to say, its voice weak and raspy.
Jasper stilled, his head tilting slightly. He knew that name. It meant something to him, but he couldn't remember what. The prey's eyes were dull, but he watched them find his own, watched the delicious fear that flared in them.
Overcome by instincts, Jasper dropped his head to his prey's neck. A flood of smells met his nose. Ocean brine. Forest. Wet dog. Blood. The creature tensed beneath him, shoulders drawn up to protect his neck. Through a few flimsy layers of blood soaked clothing, Jasper could feel his heart beating like a rabbit's.
"Wha... Jas..." The prey moaned again, its face twisted with pain.
Grasping his prey's chin, he forced the creature's head to the side, revealing an expanse of salt encrusted flesh. Placing his lips with careful precision on the fluttering jugular, he bit.
Pulling the boy's blood from his veins, Jasper was barely aware of Seth's screaming.