Twilight: A Retelling

by The Broken Chain

Jasper Hale, accompanied by his vampiress Alice, joins the Cullens out of boredom. It is here that Jasper meets Edward, and his views on vampire nature change. Rated M for sexual scenes. M/M, pairings: Jazzward. These characters are gold. A retelling. Formerly named Altered Story.

Obvious Disclaimer! This is a fanfiction site, isn't it?

Hello~ Thank you for reading this, my first post and one of my earlier fanfictions. I've since improved since first writing this over three years ago, but I'm still pretty happy with this one, so I'll let you judge for yourself.

Enjoy!

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JPOV

She said that we were meant to live with the Cullen's—her visions, which lead her to me, convinced her to go against our nature; what we, as life suckers, eat. We were going to live as "vegetarian" vampires, she explained, and seemed thrilled at the idea.

At first, I wouldn't even think of it, yet alone consider it as a possibility—I said no. How ridiculous! To feed on flea-ridden beasts that smelled of manure and decay was unimaginable—but I obliged the young lady—Alice, that was her name—and allowed her to take me to our new family, at the start of a new life. With my unexplained ability to both feel and manipulate the emotions of other people, I knew that she loved me—that she wanted me. She was also very determined, and though I didn't return her feelings, I went along. She was nice company, after all, and it was fulfilling to have someone after all of these decades. It was change that I looked for, even if the sex wasn't great. We still were never really together; it was purely as a favor that we exchanged bodies.

Life as a vampire—a loner, I guess you'd call me—was growing increasingly dull. I grew restless, I suppose, of my life style, and of never having anybody to at least admire. At least in an emotional way, because, with my heightened sense of emotion, I loved the feel of an others happiness; I also loved to toy with them, I am not ashamed to admit. And this dullness—this emptiness inside of me—is what motivated me to follow her and her vision of a more or less peaceful future—to say yes.

I had concerns about our diet, but the way I acquired my meals was also growing more mundane. Luring young girls away, toying with their emotions, sucking them dry when they practically begged me to take them—it had become an old, tasteless, and utterly lowly routine, one I grew restless with. In short, I hit rock bottom. (I was being dragged along the edges of my conscience for far too long when I realized this.) But this was nothing compared to the low I sunk to when I met the Cullens, who, on the evening we arrived, welcomed us with open arms. They were good. They were almost human. Carlisle, who was the first to invite us in, had never killed a human before. I considered it as Alice talked with their family, wondering how it was possible. Before that year, it hadn't bothered me that I had hunted humans and used them. It was still alluring, to take the life from something so completely different from me. But, one girl, who was, even to humans, young, actually thanked me. She thanked me for taking her life, and she was gloatingly thrilled and excited about it. When I had met her, that late afternoon, she was sad; suicidal depression. And utterly alone. An easy kill when I needed one. But it never set right that she should want death, or an existence like my own. It suddenly turned me into the villain when I realized that I was okay with killing so long as my victims wanted life, and then even that perspective changed with the realization that there was a monster inside of me that didn't care if things suffered, so long as its thirst was quenched. It bothered me that this thing that I drained didn't care. Things should want to preserve them selves! Even vampires have that much sense. And then there was Esme, who was kind enough to make up for any transgression that it wouldn't have mattered if she had slain children's hospitals on Christmas Eve. She and her husband were too compassionate to be monsters, and I paled immediately in their shadows. I shied away from the conversation as we sat around Mr. Cullen's dinner table as they talked over our arrangements. Alice spoke on my behalf as I felt my atmosphere, the instincts I was trying to kill still lingering in the back of my mind as I measured possible opponents.

Esme, while being cautious, was thrilled, excitement tinting the air merrily. She adored us, it was evident. I had a feeling she had a strong maternal side, and wanted children of her own—but as a vampire, an unnatural being, she is incapable of this natural phenomenon. Carlisle was also thrilled, but curious of our odd turn, going against the conventional for something that was supposedly more satisfying, in the sense of self-fulfillment instead of basic needs; and just slightly worried, though I could only guess as to why. Rosalie was hostile, territorial, and slightly jealous—for obvious reasons; she wasn't the center of attention, which I was sure she usually was. I didn't linger on her long, though she was beautiful, because of her hate. It subsided, but other more dark emotions filled the air around her, ones of bitter memories, of envy, though god knows what she was thinking of, and of lust, though it was not directed toward anyone. She was just needy, and I paid her no more mind than a beetle. Emmet, her mate, was all smiles, matching his energized mood only reflecting in his bright, strong words. He was happy to have more family, I guessed. There was little I could tell from these interactions without asking. I didn't care, though. Overall, they were happy, and kind enough to let us live in their house, and live their life.

It was good enough.

"Jasper, Alice?"Esme said, leading us up the stairs, past a grand piano—which hooked my interest, wondering who in my new family played— and into a hall that, at the end, had a cross hanging over a polished, shining end table. A blow to my composure, it hung there to judge me.

"No, not yet," Alice said in her chime voice, answering the question that had not yet been asked, "But we will be."

I guessed. "No, we are not together."

"Then you don't want to share a room?" Esme said, pulling us down the hall.

I laughed at this. "Why? I won't be in need of anything a room offers…"

Esme smiled, "But for your own personal things, and for appearances, we keep our own rooms. You wouldn't mind sharing a room for a week, would you?" She turned, talking to the both of us. I didn't answer, still recomposing from what she had said about having my own room. I never had any personal possessions…

"That will work with me." Alice smiled, rising up onto her tip-toes excitedly. She was always chip, I learned. "Rosalie wouldn't mind, would she?"

Ah, she already knew where she was staying, although there was no reason to ask considering she could just see it.

"No, and neither would Edward."

I stiffened, realizing that there was still another member of my new family that I had not yet met. It gave me hope that maybe I could be better than just one of these newcomers. Maybe…

"I see," Alice said, then, kissing my cheek, whispered, "I'll see you soon; I have to go shopping for my room!" Then she turned down to the stairs, a glean in her slightly red eyes and bellowed in her sweet voice, "ROSE! WE'RE GOING SHOPPING!" I smiled at her motivation to make our new life work. I was hoping that I could be as enthusiastic.

"Oh," Esme said in hushed tones, "I'm sure Alice already knows, but since you are going to be living closer to Edward, I thought I should tell you that he can… hear your thoughts. He tries not to, but its unavoidable most of the times, and he is incredibly apologetic for it."

That was odd… I never had to contemplate the idea that my thoughts would not be private. It was creepy, but I decided that I didn't mind. I would just run a song over in my head.

When I didn't reply, Esme pulled me down past two doors and then opened the third on the right. She didn't say anything, sensing that I needed some time to adjust, and allowed me my silence as she shut the door behind me. "Edward isn't picky," she whispered behind the door. "Just don't mess with his things, please, until you see him." I nodded, answering silently while she traveled back down stairs. I heard Alice's car speed away with Rosalie, who seemed reluctant, and Emmet, who was blissfully happy. It would be a long time before I could go out in public, I realized as I heard the car travel out side of my hearing range. It would be a long time before I could resist the lure of pulsing life.

I took in the room: it was vast, holding many shelves filled with books and music. On the west wall, to my right, there was a couch, leather, and across from it on the opposite wall, there was a closet that was closed, and in between it, on the north side, across from me, there was no wall, except a window that took its place. It over looked the forest, catching snips of the river that ran through it. The leaves were just turning for the season, beginning with the tints of red and orange. The sky was dry, but Alice had foreseen a storm in the next few hours. It was Saturday, and five o'clock. I wondered where Edward could be. I remember that Carlisle said that they hunt every two weeks, and in the forest near their house occasionally, and thought that maybe he was out hunting. I was anxious, to say the least. I had my emotions to my self, and for the first time since arriving, realized that I was scared to add to the anxiety. As capable as I am to turn others emotions around, I was completely immune to inflicting it upon myself. I always tried to stay near someone to cloud out my own thoughts, but sometimes it's just unavoidable.

To pass time, I went up to a shelf and picked out a book to read. It was random, and I pulled out Crime and Punishment. A title that applied to me in some odd way, and disgruntled me even further. But I sensed that if the axe were to fall, there would be no one to save me…

"Humph…" I sighed, then put it back in search of another. Shakespeare, Dickens, Homer… He was a fan of the classics, I noted. Pulling out a random, titleless book, I went to sit on the couch. When I did, I saw that on the arm, a book laid open and inverted. Wuthering Heights, it read. I took it instead and then began to read through it. I memorized the pages at my own leisure—or, rather, forced leisure. It was hard to do something so useless like read a book when I still felt on alert, like I needed to be wary of every fiber of my surroundings. It took control—control being something I was never good at—to focus on the story, and then even more so to take my time and to at least try to enjoy it. It was a small, insignificant accomplishment, but I made it through in just under an hour feeling exceptionally pleased with my self for being able to ignore my instincts, if even for a little while.

I sat the book to my side and began to pace. Slowly the anxiety I had forgotten about began to coil around my thoughts again, like weeds wrapping around my mind, breaking the foundation and beginning to take complete control. It was a winning strategy, and I was defenseless to fight it. But with its take over, another piece of information entered my head: another vampire was approaching the house in a car. I could hear it crossing the bridge, and the hum of the engine. Faintly, I could smell him—a completely appealing smell, even for a vampire—and the interior of his car. My muscles flexed and readied them selves on habit, and I tried with all my might to ignore my instincts and stand in a neutral position.

I had no idea why I was acting so odd, but I was hoping that when I met him, it would be justified.

His car was half a mile away, and he would have definitely known that we were here—two strangers invading his house, two scents that he didn't recognize.

Should I go out and greet him? Should I stay, or leave, or wait for him to come to me? Too many questions flurried at the same time, and vaguely I made my way past the room and down the stairs, deciding that I best not be in his room for our first meeting.

I went out side and waited by the garage, knowing that within seconds his car was going to turn around the edge of the drive and park. I knew that Carlisle and Esme were watching from the living room, nearly as nervous as I was, but I didn't care—it wasn't them that I was worried about.

After two more seconds, a small red car made the curve and stopped suddenly about a meter away from me and the garage. The windows were tinted, so I couldn't see past them to the mystery person in the driver's seat.

He felt curious, and confused. He took five seconds, hesitating, before opening his door and stepping out.

He was tall, about my height, and very lean. He wore a hoodie, and khaki pants, which, although slightly faded, still accented his frame. His eyes were gold, like the rest of his families, and reflected my curiosity almost amusingly. After yet another long few seconds, he composed himself and shook his bronze hair from his bangs onto his brow. He brushed it away, and smiled.

"Hello, Jasper." He greeted, shutting his door. I was about to ask how he knew my name when I remembered his gift. Immediately I ran random songs through my head, and said back, "Hello, Edward."

"Carlisle told me what your doing here, and I would like to tell you that I support it one-hundred percent." His voice was soft and coaxing; polite, just like I knew he was. He smiled again, and I realized that I had stopped my songs. I started it up again and shook my head. "Sorry, but I suppose I'm sharing a room with you for a week or so."

"I don't mind."

"I'll stay out of your way," I mumbled. The burn in my throat was getting uncomfortable, and I knew that I needed to satisfy it soon.

"We can take you hunting," he offered, looking past me to the window. Obviously, he was talking to Carlisle and Esme. I shook my head. "It's fine, I'll learn." I wasn't used to hunting in groups, or being taught like a human baby. I could adjust on my own.

"Where is Alice?" He asked, changing the subject when he knew very well what I had just thought.

"Shopping," I said. His aura became worried, and it creased his brow into a pucker.

"I'm not sure that's the best of ideas," he muttered, shaking his head. He walked past me, asking silently for me to follow. I did.

"She's very controlled," I informed, wondering if she predicted this exchange. Probably.

The space between us was filled with tension, which inevitably I had to own up for. I could tell that I was projecting onto him, and I began to pull the wave of anxiety back. He seemed confused about his sudden change in mood, and I fought to keep this secret. He didn't need to know yet.

"Is that so?" He was still concerned, but he seemed to ignore it to listen to his parents who were most likely talking to him. They were just cautious now, any prior nervousness vanquished with their son's and my friendly conversation.

"Yes," I whispered. I felt exhausted in a way only a vampire could feel—it was an in between several emotions, raging from wariness and restlessness, the want of the need to shut my eyes, and blended with the need to silence my throats protest.

I kept my distance as I hoped to blend in to this new way of life.

EPOV

It had been an odd first two weeks when Jasper Whitlock and Alice had joined us. Things stirred inside of me that I hadn't felt before, and couldn't understand. Not only was I feeling unexplainable, unexpected, unprovoked things, I was also starting to feel a burning curiosity.

When I had come home, I was greeted by the vampire Jasper, who was very anxious though I couldn't discern why; he had caught him self and began to recite music, rarely slipping in his effort to keep his privacy.

But as soon as I met him, I drew lines from him to an angel, recognizing that this person—who was irrevocably good, despite the few times he slipped up to his own berating—was beautiful. His body was scarred from fights, teeth marks up his arms and neck, but it was not in an unappealing way that he wore his battle souvenirs—they just made me curious; he never showed them, always wearing a long sleeve shirt of some sort. Only once could I glimpse the markings on his neck and jaw, but he caught his mistake the second it happened, pulling up his collar and escaping to the dense forest.

At first, he kept his distance from us—me, in particular, I noticed, unable to find a satisfactory answer in his thoughts as he fled—and tried to refuse our offers to help him hunt animals. At first, he was messy—staining all of his clothes, tearing the limbs violently from each other as he tried to find every drop of blood the animal stored. He would act awkward about it—embarrassed, even, spending extra hours in the forest to avoid his family. He would linger at the stream and clean up as best he could, unaware even when I followed and watched. It only took him a few tries to get it down, though, and, few more afterward to learn to enjoy it.

He rarely visited our shared room, and that was only when no one was there and it was the only place to be alone, the only place to keep away from me; he liked his solitude.

He would never let up on the songs he played in his head, and I knew that he wanted to keep his thoughts private—but I could still see fragments through his eyes, and knew that he served in the army an age ago. This, while not answering anything, shed some light on the bite marks on his body. It was only one of the three things I knew; One, he served in the army at the age of seventeen, though I knew not of which year he served; Two, he did not love Alice, and had no interest in being with her (although he did with loyalty); and Three, he despised our animal diet. I would laugh when he would hunt with us, the way he shied away and crinkled his nose. He caught me doing it once, and smiled despite him self.

The start of a friendship.

We got closer in three weeks time, talking occasionally and hunting in pairs. He was still getting used to being near so many people, and drinking from a lion instead of a human. It was sort of charming to watch him try to fit in with us, though still not being able to fully blend in. He would sit with us in our living room and remain still, listening to the rest of us talk and play games and do what ever we do. Normally, that would have been me, but now with a place to fill, I let him sit alone and instead played chess with Carlisle or Alice, watching him from the corner of my eye as he tried to speak—to ask to play—but instead thought better of it and retreated back to his position. He was alone.

Then, one night, when every one was about in the living or dining room, talking and going about their business, I sat down on the bench beside my piano and placed my fingers on the keys, not yet ready to play, sudden nervousness overtaking me. I realized that Jasper—Jazz, as we all called him now—watched me from the reflection on the window. If my heart was still beating, it would have beat for the intensity of his stare. I swallowed down the lump in my throat and stretched my fingers.

Slowly, I began to play a Mozart piece, one that was familiar and I didn't have to think about. Esme sighed slightly, as she always did when she admired my piano playing.

That's beautiful, my son, she thought. It's been so long.

Alice chimed in then too with a vision of me playing songs on the piano. You're a beautiful artist, she added. Don't ever stop. From her visions—of the future—I knew that this spot on the bench is where I would be spending a lot of my time, charming the crowd who gathers around me with a fiery need, it's almost painful. Even though the vision was incomplete, I knew that it was to charm Jasper.

I smiled, pleased but trying to avoid the uncomfortable prick that Jaspers eyes left on my skin. The music in his head began to loop, and then suddenly it became irritating. I wanted to know what he was thinking, and why he was staring at me like I was the only thing that existed. When I couldn't help but look, I saw him smile faintly, and watched him try to control it, to hide his loveliness behind a mask of indifference. It was a beautiful smile, and it made him look even more appealing than before. I began to wonder if I was merely curious, or if something else was tugging at that empty cavity in my chest that had long been dormant and lonely. It was him, and he was gaining gravity.

The piece looped into its final verse, and then died slowly with its last two high notes. As I tried to ignore the prodding reflection, I refilled the room with my own music, trying desperately to keep the blonds attention. It was a new song, one that wandered from my mind and tried to form at the end of my fingers. It had been about ten years since I composed a musical piece, but I remembered how to do it. It was effortless, and came about with sudden rage that if I stopped, it would have ripped me apart. As subtly as I could, I peeked from the corner of my eye, praying that I still had Jaspers eyes. He was still there, but he looked away, an odd, discontent look playing across his features. My hands stopped moving.

Go on, Esme encouraged, sounding disappointed. I had just noticed that the room around me grew quiet, and that every one, except the person I most wanted attention from, was listening. It had been a while since I had been the center of attention, but it didn't sway me. Rosalie lingered at the stair case, and Esme and Carlisle poked their bodies around the kitchen. Emmet chuckled to him self, but he was well aware of me.

I started again with a sigh, but was uneasy and unwilling to continue. I looked again, and he was gone. There didn't seem to be reason to go on, and I had no idea why.

"What's wrong?" Esme spoke out loud, making me realize that I was both eagerly looking toward the living room, and that I had repeated the same ten notes for who knows how long. I listened to the noise circling inside of Jaspers head, my music, I was surprisingly happy to note, coming from outside in the baseball field, and found it hard to concentrate on anything else.

"Nothing…" I muttered, and then tried for a third time to focus on the keys laid out before me instead of Jasper's melodies. It was like autopilot, and I began to play another classical piece. Carlisle sighed. Are you okay, son?

I nodded slightly to his unspoken question. Alice's thoughts were on a vision she just had of Jasper standing out in a meadow. I already decided that I was going to find him, and searched her mind for more information about what he was going to say when I confront him, but she had no other relevant visions that could have aided me. It was scary to think that I had no idea what would happen—what he would say and think when I find him. I don't know why, but it made me sad to see him leave. I brooded silently as I finished the piece, then got up to find Jasper. No one said a word to me, and ignored my odd behavior—because, for me, odd was a normal, as they long before learned— and moved to let me pass them.

The night was misty, slightly fogged over, but neither the night nor the uncomfortable moisture in the air kept me from what I wanted. I followed his alluring scent and found him on top of a pitchers mound that Carlisle and I would take turns on in the appropriate weather. He stared into the thick mass of clouds that circled the sky and mumbled things to him self that I couldn't quite pick out. The music in his head was softer now, a piano piece Claire De Lune, muted compared to his other musings. His mind was still unknown to me.

"Jazz," I said, standing two yards away from him, staring at his side as his eyes darted back and forth past the sky.

"Hello, Edward." He said, tilting his head to face me. As I thought about it, more and more, it seemed to me that this was not so good of an idea. I had no idea what I was planning on saying, and was slightly scared to meet his experienced eyes. His eyes, even though they were not as old as Carlisle's, were much more intense and knowing. He had seen battles, had participated in them, and came out a victor. He wore his past under his clothes, which were always full-coverage, and reeking of shame; he always seemed like he was ashamed of something, but I could not penetrate his mind to find out why.

"Are you okay?" I asked, thinking twice about taking a step closer. My fingers twitched behind me to get closer to him, and protested when I didn't acknowledge their odd needs.

He smiled—taking me aback with the perfection of it. "Why, yes, I am fine." His accent was not all together gone, and still slightly Texan. Another appetizer for my incredibly hungry curiosity. "Why wouldn't I be?"

"I don't know… you rushed out, so I…" I trailed off, feeling idiotic and stupid.

He just smiled, and an odd calmness seeped into me, seemingly from nowhere. "I didn't know you were watching me." He said it almost teasingly. Of course he knew.

"I was just worried, I guess… you seem to have a hard time adjusting." I cursed my self for ever following him, knowing that some how, this creature in front of me knew the reasons to my clumsiness. I still couldn't find the ability to be mad at my self.

"I am—with the hunting part. But I enjoy being around people, much more than I thought I would. You're very pleasing to be around," He added with humor, laughing to him self like he knew something and refused to mention it.

"Well, it's nice that you're adjusting well," I said stiffly, fighting the urge to flee.

"Very kind of you, Edward, to be concerned with me." He smiled again, turning his entire body to face me. So many questions left unanswered swam in his eyes, and the cavity inside my chest mimicked the feel of a quickening heart. For some reason, he smiled even further and took a step toward me, setting me on guard. I stiffened at his unexpected step, but didn't move so as to keep up with appearances. I didn't want him to know the strange stirrings inside of me.

"It's apart of being in a family," I could barely keep my voice's volume in his presence. "Just…"

"Being a brother?" He offered, still smug. I didn't want to agree with it—for reasons unknown, but very upsetting—but I nodded in the affirmative and turned to leave him.

I walked instead of ran, which my legs begged me to do, toward the light that was my house. I felt him watching me, like I did when I played my piano, but didn't turn to see if it was the truth, fearful that he would misunderstand me.

"Edward," he called, causing me to involuntarily turn his way. "You play piano with such passion, I envy you."

I stopped breathing. The sky started to cry. "Thank you," I said, using the most of my breath to answer him. I fought back a smile. It felt good to have his admiration, although it was misplaced in the likes of me. As I walked away, he added in thought, I like living here. I smiled to my self, and walked back toward my house. I was much to slow for my own good, and half way there, broke into sprint.

Inside, everyone tried very hard to bar their thoughts. Esme and Carlisle both lingered in the kitchen, speaking in hushed tones about an upcoming surgery, all the while going over the reasons I might try my hand at piano again. Esme's reflected that of her mate. Rosalie just thought it was odd, but didn't pry. Alice recited several languages at once in her mind, masking her thoughts from me in a way equally annoying as when Jazz does it. And Emmet, the most intuitive of my family, privy to my strange reactions; he always found ways of surprising me.

Bro, you're acting pretty funny, he thought, building a card castle with Rose near the stairs. That was always their favorite thing to do together, aside from knocking down bedroom walls. He sneaked looks toward me when Roses' eyes were averted. Are you okay?

I nodded, taking a seat in the living room.

You're a fairly bad liar, little bro—especially for someone who knows everyone else's secrets. You've been acting that way since Jazz and Alice made their grand entrance into our lives.

In my hand, the chairs' arm cracked as I squeezed it, splitting the wood under my stress; it grabbed the attention all around the house, but no one delved too deeply into it. For some reason, I couldn't argue against my brother. He was right. It was all because of Jasper.

Emmet just chuckled to himself and continued to stack cards. He probably has it bad for miss fortune cookie.

JPOV

Animals are, with my most honest conviction, the most disgusting things I have ever drunk from. They were also the most pitiful things I had ever seen, although that was probably me taking for granted the ease of life. But I could work with it if it kept the burning inside of my throat at a minimal, and if it earned me some gratification, which it did, additionally.

My new family was kind, and very patient with me, despite my withdrawal syndromes. For a long time, I wouldn't talk to any one, or at least talk the minimal amount for what ever question was asked of me. It was enough for a while, and I was excited to be near people, to finally not be alone.

The only part that was odd was the need to run show-tunes through my head, because of the abilities of a certain dark, brooding vampire.

Edward was like no one I've ever met, and pleasingly so. He was fun to be around, mainly because of his private mood swings and side-long glances as if he thought everyone knew what he was thinking. And because of the way I felt when ever he was around—or, rather, the way he felt when ever he was around. At first, it was confusing. We lived in the same room for exactly two weeks, but saw each other very little, despite the proximity. I never needed to be in because of my lacking possessions, and mainly lingered out side or in the living room, measuring my atmosphere and occasionally messing with it. But within the time we were together, mainly when we were hunting, he would feel… curious. I gauged that it was me who made him this way both from knowing that I was the new-comer, and that it was only when he could see me that he began to feel this way. But, mixed in with the curiosity, there was arousal, though that was the one that baffled me. It wasn't sexual; it was more… deep, just like being lonely and seeking out company.

When I ran songs through my head, he would feel slightly interested, then ashamed as if he knew that I knew this, which was something I worked hard to keep from him—and did so successfully. This is where my interest began, and when my eluding started.

Alice said more than once that she knew that Edward was apart of my future, but she would never divulge any details—to any one, including Edward him self, in which case she would recite algebra and other complicated things to keep him at a distance— and left me speculating among fragments of information. I was never willing to go up to him and just talk, though sometimes we would converse over the topic of food, and when I sorted out his emotions—some of which were amusing, like when I messed with him when I played songs in my thoughts—I started to avoid him. I didn't understand the way he felt for me, and I wasn't content to acknowledge that in some way I too felt it for him. Silently, I confessed to my self what I knew Alice saw in her visions, and felt hatred when I knew it was my weakness that left me so venerable.

It was confusing, to say the least. I was never used to feeling that way. And already, Alice was starting to move away from me, finding that she was more interested in human life than she originally thought, having her eyes set on her future, which changed rapidly when she started to go out in public more. She saw her human husband-to-be, who was years away and eager to be a vampire. And I couldn't have been happier, being able to be to my self, despite the fondness I had for my now siblings and parents, and not have a girl waiting to see if I were her mate. It left things open ended, and me to make my own choices—although I already knew, without wanting the knowledge, that I made my decision long before I knew it.

But I was tired of being alone, and even though I was opposed to it, I knew I had to talk to Edward. He seemed to be the center of my thoughts, and growing rapidly every time I saw him—the gravity that he seemed to have on me growing in intensity every time I saw his face. It didn't help that he watched my movements as if I were unaware to his following gaze, which he was probably convinced of. I've always been a good liar, and very capable of hiding my nervousness—the only feeling, except amusement, that I seemed to feel around Edward.

And then he played his piano, and right in that moment of time, I knew the truth where I stood; who I was meant to be with. There was no more dancing around the thought and acting as if I was unaware. It was beautiful, more gorgeous than the classical professionals that try to summon a tenth of the haunting tone that Edward had embodied. His fingers glided across the keys with, even to a vampire, passionate accuracy, making everything in the world, even the thirst in my throat, insignificant and turning all other sounds into background noise. Edward, his piano, and me, that's all that mattered. And he seemed to be nervous, which I wanted to help him with, but didn't for fear of upsetting him inadvertently, when he had started his music; and when he ended his first classical piece, he started to panic. He looked at me once by accident, then began another more personal piece—one of his own artistry. It captivated me because, the way everybody acted, I knew that this was unusual, and that this was probably a brand new composition; I hoped that he had written it with me in mind, even if it was a long shot for which I hoped.

Then he began a new wave of emotion, one that back-handed me and sent me running outside to avoid its intensity: he felt love. He felt lust. And he looked at me while feeling these things. It was too much, and wildly beyond my merest possible fantasies.

Then he followed me, and I knew it was set in stone that we were meant to be together. The way he cared was far too personal to be brotherly, as the offer I had suggested he leapt on. Denial, I recognized, was his way of life. He denied everything he wanted, even his own food up to the point of pain. I recognized that we were the same that way, in the way of denial. He was what I wanted, what I wanted to be, but I was frightened to try to obtain it.

As another month passed, with him playing piano feverishly, and with me doing no better in the way of human blood, his feelings started to morph. Everyday, it became a little more pronounced, a little more dominant when ever he saw me. For the past week, his lust bordered on the point where I actually had to contain it in him to keep it from overriding my process, where I had to change or merge other emotions to help calm him when he was on the brink of exploding; to mess with him, I would send waves of amusement and hysteria toward him, resulting in the occasional laugh-fits he would have in the middle of the living room, or when hunting or testing my susceptibility and resistance. No one knew but me that it was my doing, but, when he caught me laughing at him, he was suspicious, though he never spoke it out loud.

Today was the day, I decided. Today, I was going to tell him everything, not only about what I could do, but the way I felt for him—the way he turned me into a soft, moldable thing whenever he felt the things he felt for me; the way he turned me on. I was going to tell him that I was falling in love with him.

The only problem: how? How do I confront this person when I was only something weak in comparison, unable to find a voice in his vicinity? It was an odd situation, and one that was not easily remedied. No opportunities had presented themselves within the time I realized how much I wanted him until today, a Friday in October when the entire family, save me and Edward, were going out into Seattle on a hunting trip that I had opted out for obvious reasons, and it was Edwards turn to stay home. It was an easy trap, set up for only one result.

"We'll see you two on Sunday," Esme said to Edward, only speaking out for my benefit. I sat on the couch while she hugged him good bye, aware that she was the last person who remained to say good bye to us and the last person in my way before I could get my way. Edward gave her a nervous laugh, hugging his mother on the patio before saying in a completely neutral tone, "We'll be fine. I'll take Jazz out to hunt sometime tonight, I think."

"Are you sure though? You can both come, you know." She was merely curious, and persisted only to satisfy her need to gain knowledge.

"Yes, very." He said, answering some thought that she had. "I love you, now go and hunt—it's been two weeks."

"Okay…" She gave him a smile and then ran off to follow the rest of her family in the wilderness. They were planning on hunting an over populated area of Grizzly bears, and were eager to get there. They were out of range within seconds.

We were finally alone, but I didn't make my move, knowing that I would need to keep him on edge to make this easier for me. He walked past me to the piano, hyper focused on ignoring my sneaky eyes that watched his every action. He began to play the new piece he created last month, never once looking over to me. His feelings began to act up again, but unlike the other times I had to cover it, I didn't, and allowed my self to swim in the feeling. It threatened to disrupt my thoughts, but it didn't bother me anymore: I was going to give up everything eventually. I would be his for the taking. It was taking too much time, though, and after only two hours into the evening, I had to give up on my original plan, and forfeit any control I had to my desire. It was weakness, but I couldn't care about that at the moment. He was the objective.

He never stopped playing his piano, and began improvising after he played a great variety of songs; including the song I like to think of as mine. It was nerve wracking to watch as he tried to push out his desires with his music, as if by the mere action of playing the piano or the sound of its vibrations he could smother what he felt. In the end, the more powerful emotion won, and the rest was background noise.

It was time. Without thinking, I got up and darted to his side and sat beside him.

"Hello." I whispered, adding my own compositions to his piece. We weren't more than a foot apart.

He stiffened, banging on his keys by accident when he saw that I was so close. His desire whipped me in the face with its burning lash. It felt good, and I had to keep my self from smiling. He continued, acting as if nothing happened. "Jazz. I didn't know you played piano."

"I don't," I smiled despite my attempts. "I learned from watching you."

"I see…"

"Like I said, I envy you, and it piqued my interest to expand on my self, so… I learned."

"I'm glad I can be helpful," he said stiffly. He never fully recovered from my sudden appearance.

"So," I began, reaching past his hands to tap on the keys that I needed to make my music work. "How long have you been living with Carlisle and Esme?"

He hesitated, but answered nonchalantly. "I've lived with Carlisle for the most of my existence—when he saved me from the influenza—but there was a time in the beginning, about nine years, when I went off on my own. I came back after I realized that I didn't like to prey on humans, and when I realized that what I was… am, is a…" He trailed off, not wanting to continue on his outburst of information. He obviously hadn't meant to say so much, and he was embarrassed about letting it slip out. He picked up on the same note. "But, after that, we discovered Esme, and Carlisle changed her when she was on the brink of death… they love each other very much, and they've been exactly like parents to me, later to the rest of my siblings. After her was Rosalie, then Emmet in a human hunting accident. Now, you and Alice… It's become a very large family."

"Do you enjoy that? Having a large family?"

"Yes and no. It really all depends. But it's a bit harder for me—hearing everybody's thoughts, even when I don't want to. It can give me head aches, and for the most part, unwanted information… it's not to say that it's unuseful…"

I smiled a bit; amused that he answered only half of my question. "You still enjoy your family, though, right?"

He nodded. "Yes."

Our hands were careful not to touch—his, at least. "And, if you can't handle it… you can get away sometimes…"

"Most of the time. Some situations require that I be here. When others of our kind… venture near, we have to introduce our selves, and it helps to have someone like me in those sorts of negotiations. We have to make sure they don't hunt in Forks." He was all too eager to talk to me, I mused happily. But where he had messed up earlier, it was much too much of a mystery to leave unnoted. I kept my eyes in front of me before asking, "What were you about to say when you were talking about your return?" I sounded anything but curious.

His hands lingered over the board on the same four notes before answering. "Nothing, it's more of a personal reflection than anything else, and it wouldn't interest you." His jaw locked, flexing under the skin.

"I would like to hear."

He sighed, then, when I looked to read his face, smiled sadly. "Monster." All other emotions were fought off with brutal sadness, and suddenly I felt depressed. I had to work to not ruin his mood.

"No, you're not a monster, nor am I, or Carlisle, or Alice, or Emmet, or even Rosalie, although she cuts it quite close to the mark." He laughed as I lied. Even though I secretly believed it, I couldn't allow him to berate himself like that. It wasn't right, and nothing he said could ever apply to him.

"Yes, she does." He chuckled. "But I'm not going to continue down that path of thought any more… it sickens me."

I nodded in agreement. We began playing a nameless song that we both envisioned and contributed to. It was beautiful. "Forgive me for asking, but why are you alone?" I piped up suddenly, crossing the piano again to reach a higher note. His concentration wavered slightly.

"Because I do not care for other people the way I should, or want to. No one has caught my eye, and that is that." I didn't expect such a clean, immediate answer, but was pleased that he wasn't offended and allowed me to explore the dark corner that he had just barely begun to light. "So, there's been no one to catch your eye, but has there been any one interested in you?"

"Many." His aura became irritated at an unknown memory, his voice sour when he continued after a brief pause. "Too many for my liking."

"It's a bad thing to be desired?" I thought out loud. I had always enjoyed the constant attention I received, mortal and immortal, male and female.

"No. But it gets tiring after so many advances, especially when the end result is the same. Sometimes you need to be content, and I am."

"With being alone?" It wasn't an accusation, but merely an inquiry.

"Yes." His voice was tragic, and turned his music into a sad, voiceless ballad, one where the ending was predetermined right from the start, as if there wasn't a choice, like his life was the course of an authors mind, and everything was heading to the inevitable defeat.

I let my music slip just enough to think a few words to him; I don't believe that you will be alone forever.

"Thank you," he said, surprised. He didn't believe me. "But I cannot have what I want."

"Why is that?" I knew that he talked of me, but I still humored him, hoping to make him see the truth before I assaulted him with it.

We both drew to a stop. "Because," he turned toward me, letting his hands fall to his sides. "I do not know what it is."

"I think you do," I smirked. It's all so silly.

He returned a confused look, but his more elusive emotions began to take control again. "You confuse me sometimes, Jasper Whitlock." He said my name with poorly-masked fervor.

"Do I?" I raised an eyebrow, pressing on several keys to make the moment dramatic. A smile lit my face, and soon one adorned his. It was short lived, and he began to half-heartedly play again. He distractedly heaved an uneasy breath, and subconsciously began to tap his toes inside his shoes.

I sighed. "Edward, you seem to be having a hard time concentrating. Here, if I may…" I trailed off, letting the music in my head slip away, along with the charade and pretense, into the darkness and sending calmness his way. Indeed he was calm, but, as he abruptly stopped his fingers from moving across the keys, he was also confused. I opened my mind, letting all of the information I had held from him out from the flood gates—everything that I was ashamed of, of liking him, of wanting him, of keeping my invasive abilities away from him, was laid out before him to sort through.

I'm sorry, I apologized toward the end, when he stared blankly into my eyes as if searching for something but not finding it. I'm not proud about hiding this from you, but I was… am scared… embarrassed, even, for feeling something I never before felt for some one… because I can't describe to my self, let alone you, what I feel. I never liked some one like THIS, not with such passion to take you and make you mine, and me yours. I just couldn't find the words to say it… so I'm showing you, thinking to you what is impossible to say. I'm sorry, but I know you feel the same way. I can feel what you feel… and you feel love… and desire… and shame… and confusion… Everything I feel…so…

I couldn't wait for a response with the need I felt for him at the time; I leaned in and took his lips onto mine, not caring if the world burned around me. His passion—his lust, need, desire—reignited, and bit at me like never before. My confidence rekindled, and I was set on fire.

"Jazz," he moaned as I took him to the living room couch, leading him with my lips and lightly tugging at his shirt. "I… have no idea what…" His denial began to set in, and I laughed.

"Oh, Edward, you know what I mean." I pushed him onto the couch with unnecessary force, making it break slightly under the strain.

"I…"

Before he could finish, I cut him off. "Don't try to deny it—you've been overrunning me with such desire and need that I can hardly speak."

"I can explain!"

Softly, I smiled, happy that I could fluster him so much. He didn't need to explain. "You know exactly what you've been feeling these past few weeks, the thing that has you hiding away in the wilderness for excess amounts of time, and shameful when ever you return to the looks of your unsuspecting family as if they knew why you were gone, who didn't, all except for me, though at the time, you didn't know that." I began to kiss his collar bone as I straddled his lap. He moaned, but didn't protest. "And I know that every time you see me, you wish you could do what I'm doing to you right now."

"Jasper—" I hissed at the way name sounded on his lips; erotic, sensual, needy.

"Shh," I whispered, pressing my index finger to his lips. "There's no need to explain. There's no need to be embarrassed."

"No," he said in an uneven breath, shuddering against my touches on his bare skin. "Can't we talk first?" Every word was torture to him as he tried to sound composed.

I chuckled and pulled away from his neck to meet his eyes. Why should we talk now? I thought to him, smiling madly and gently kissing his cheek. "Not when we have two days to our selves." I added verbally.

"Because I want to know more of you… and get a chance to take it in… it's so much…"

You can take me in, in more way than one. I teased, overrunning him with images of us spread out on a bed, doing things that would make a vampire blush if he could. He looked away from me, feeling more and more ashamed for being aroused. I laughed again. "I can't ignore the way you feel about me forever."

"I don't want you to ignore me… I'm just not… ready, I guess…" he barely whispered it. "And I am still in shock."

Then let me kiss you, if that is all you think you can stand at this point. Knowing I had his acceptance, I began to deliver on an unspoken promise, kissing him and touching every surface that he felt comfortable with, making him moan and toss beneath me with such need that it was nearly impossible to pass up.

"Jazz…" he whispered, rasping when I took his left ear in between my teeth. "I want you… but… ah… not now… I can't do it now."

I understand, I thought, turning us on our sides as our pace began to slow down. His legs were tangled in mine, and his top arm rested lightly on my waist. I held his head and continued to kiss him lightly, still earning my self small moans every time I ventured past his teeth. His breathing was ragged, but he was managing a weak calm on his own.

"I'm yours," I whispered. We drew to a stop, and simply sat together to get used to each other. He avoided my eyes, but he still let himself get close to me and kissed my neck gently. "I suspected it when I first met you, the way you felt oddly about me and the way you tried to avoid me, but it was determined when I first heard you play the piano. The way you looked over to me, wanting to gain my attention, the way you felt when you followed me to check in, to make sure everything was alright… the way you make me feel… you're so special…" I began to re-button up his shirt that had come undone in our embrace, and slowly fold it around his neck to rest unwrinkled on his chest. "And I'll wait—for you, I'll do anything."

But I won't be gentlemanly about it, I added in thought, bringing more embarrassing—well, embarrassing to some people—images to mind. He held me tighter, tucking his head in between my shoulder and neck. "You don't have to be," he sighed.

"Edward," I started uncertainly after a few minutes of quiet.

"Tell me." He knew where I was going, but he let me continue anyways.

"Are you okay about your family knowing about this? I'm not going to relent to you, I assure you, so I would like to know whether or not you would like me to do this in private or would be okay with me assaulting you in front of your parents and siblings."

"I don't mind… in the future. Just give me some time, and I'll be fine with everyone knowing. Just a week, I promise, and I'm yours to take."

"Okay… I can live like that. For a week," I clarified, smiling and pulling on his hair. I never said I wasn't going to tease him, though. He let out a heartbreaking laugh, and soon, I was laughing with him. It lasted for minutes, then, when happiness began to settle, we sat in tranquility and admired the feel of the other one in our arms. I memorized his body, going over the places I already knew and adored.

We spent the rest of the weekend on that couch, unmoving in our acceptance. We talked in hushed tones, whispering things that had never before been voiced. I told him everything about my past, divulging secrets I didn't even know I had, and feeling release in the pressures that resided inside of me for decades. It was as easy as breathing, but much more necessary, to explain every detail of my entire life, even the human one that I once lead. He would nod, and occasionally offer encouraging words, and listen, never once trying to interrupt me or tell me that I was wrong or right. He would simply let me speak, occasionally pressing his lips to my neck or ear when I became riled. I never talked so much in my life.

When I drew to the end of my narrative, emphasizing pointedly the affection I felt for him and how it made sense to live this everlasting existence if it came at an end with him waiting, he tilted my head up slightly and again probed my eyes.

"You're such a fascinating thing," he whispered, finding the bravery to lock our stares. He was nervous, and scared, but completely happy. I smiled back, giving him the approval he sought to go on. "I was curious about you, and now that I know, it makes me realize that we are… very alike. And even though I have no soul, I am convinced that I can make up this living—this existence as a dangerous, horrid, monster—by doing good deeds." He laughed at this point, but there was no sense of humor in his voice. "And up to this point, I was convinced that there isn't hope—I mean, how can this existence be justified when I cannot look a human in the eye and not have some part of me wanting to slaughter them and drain them of their life? But now that I see this reflected in you… it gives me hope that we are not at all so bad, because I know that you are not evil." He was honest, and believed every word he said. My smile broadened.

"Of course I believe in what I said." He smirked, going over what he said and drawing to a conclusion. "I love you, too, even if you were the monster I know I am."

I shook my head to keep him from traveling down the road of self-hate. I knew this all to well, and the exposure to his family only gratified the hate in my depths existence, but I couldn't allow him to think this way, too. That was reserved for me, and only me; none should have to suffer the wrath of its unstoppable course. "We are all monsters, but we act against that nature now in hopes of finding some self fulfillment, some way of life that wasn't forced upon us, in hopes of being independent and just. But even like that we can still love and feel, so that init of its self makes us less of monsters and more of… I don't know what. Do you get my point? We try to be good, so that must mean that some part of us is."

I measured his climate for a second as he nodded yes, and decided that he did understand that I loved him, monster or not. We both grinned and rolled over, allowing him to take the dominate position on top. It was gentle, the way he handled me, the way he placed soft, delicate pecks along my jaw and neck and shoulders. It was amusing and extremely pleasing. I love the way you touch me, I had whispered. I love to feel you on me, in me… Lust flooded into him again. I laughed, enjoying his reactions, finding that messing with him was becoming my favorite game. He was not without a sense of retribution: he took a small snap at me, also sending me into a barred frenzy.

We went on like that for about an hour before Edward heard the thoughts of our home-bound family. With reluctance, we separated, giving up on our punishment game for our own privacy.

"Don't worry," I assured, pulling his head up into a kiss and running to greet the others. He sat, hidden from the view of the window, on the stair case, as I sprinted through the house to the closest side of the river. I could hear the beat of five feet crossing over the expanse of wood land, making less sound than a falling leaf as their weight was evenly distributed along the moist ground. They were too far out of reach to be read, so I had no idea what to expect when they arrived. It wasn't a bother to me to have them know about us—Edward and I—but it was for Edward that I didn't say anything, and held my tongue, despite the want to tell everybody. I couldn't stop the bubbling of joy in my throat as I thought of what I had achieved—about what I had, after searching fruitlessly for the course of my life without even realizing it, found, and held. It was a silly point that I once was scared of talking to him, or even considering the possibility that he was what I wanted. He. Was. It. I realized.

I could imagine a future where I wasn't in the mind set of a soldier, that I could live without the instincts that would guide me in the wild to shred any vampire in my radius, that everything wasn't decided for me by another force. I could live with the choice I made—Edward.

And now, it was his time. I would oblige him and wait till he was ready because, as I was cautious to avoid thinking directly, or without the music, I knew that he had never been with, or wanted, any one in his life. It endeared him to me, making our first act together as a couple a binding thing in ways that were hard to grasp so late in our immortal life. I would wait to tell him another day, but till then I would recite music and enjoy his reactions.

Alice was the first to clear the river, jumping fluently across the calm flow and landing exactly four yards away from me. The others followed close behind her and imitated her jump to my side of the river, Carlisle and Emmet first, then Rosalie, and Esme following behind them. All accept Rosalie smiled at me before easing into a walk toward the house. Their eyes were freshly gold, and calm.

"You had an interesting weekend," Alice said excitedly, raising her eyebrows. She ran to give me a hug, wrapping her arms around my neck and kissing my ear. I hugged her back, appreciative of the support she gave, both emotionally and physically. It was good to have her as a friend—I could never see her as my mate.

"I did," I agreed. Rosalie was listening from a far, watching us as she walked back to the house. She felt intensely curious. It was a nuisance, but nothing more. It was even amusing as I thought of the way Edward would react to her questions.

"You smell just like him, you know." She smiled cutely, then kissed my cheek. "It's going to tip Esme off in about two days, just a warning. And Rosalie is about to chew him out in one minute and twenty-three-and-a-half seconds."

I considered that and walked back with her to our home. "This will be interesting."

She laughed, skipping lightly at my side. Inside, Rosalie already began.

"Edward," She started. Alice and I slowed down and listened to the show.

"Yes?" He replied. Only I knew the reason for the pleased be it startled tone in his voice. "How was your trip?"

"Nothing out of the ordinary," she snapped. "You should know that." Her voice was inpatient and eager.

"What do you want?" I heard Edward get up and climb the stairs. Esme was suspiciously quiet while Emmet babbled to her about something insignificant. Carlisle was no where to be heard, and Rosalie quieted her voice to assault him.

"What did you do this weekend?" She asked bitterly, wanting him to trap him self instead of accuse him, because, as I suspected, she had no idea what she should be wary about. I realized that she was talking instead of communicating with him the way the rest of us do obviously to embarrass him.

"Nothing of interest," he answered calmly. Alice and I started up again and, once inside, sat on the couch.

"Oh, Jazz," she whispered only for me to hear, her voice tainted with a smile. "You might want to roll around on this for a few hours to get rid of the other scent." I laughed, but raised my finger to my mouth to indicate her silence.

"Well, bah, of course not—why would miss psychic be talking to Jazz so secretively, talking about your interesting weekend, while you hide out here in your room? That doesn't strike anybody as peculiar?"

"Rose, let up on him," Emmet chipped in from the kitchen. "He's always been weird, and if he says nothing happened, then nothing happened. Why are you so interested, anyways?" He chuckled. Rosalie hissed under her breath, and I couldn't help but chuckle a bit my self. It was all so trivial, so childlike.

A door slammed, and half a second later, Rosalie was down the stairs and staring me down. Curiosity burned with jealousy, and she didn't speak, keeping her expression as expressionless as possible. Alice kept her expression just as blank, pretending as if she were having a vision, which I could not all together discount. In any capacity, for a few seconds, she was zoned out. She returned, and then looked between Rosalie and me in our staring match.

Then her fingers ticked three, two, one, and Rosalie cleared her throat unnecessarily. "You smell like Edward."

"This whole house smells like Edward, if you haven't noticed in your absence." I smiled, smugly just to piss her off. It worked, and it overpowered me. I sniggered then thought to Edward, Bridezilla is very determined to find something incriminating. You should threaten to ruin her car as collateral.

"What's wrong?" I asked, measuring the jealousy in my area. "Why so curious?"

"Because I'm concerned for Edward."

"Concerned for what reason?" Edward added from his room. Suddenly, his voice was light and comical. Then he burst out in laughter. Rosalie's mask of indifference turned into anger and annoyance, then she stormed out of the room, with Emmet at her heels.

"What's wrong Rose?" He said, following her to the garage. She slammed the door in his face.

Edward appeared at Alice's side and said, "Small girl, stop blocking your thoughts."

"What about privacy?" She smirked, rolling her eyes then sighing. "I don't suppose you're going to tell me what's wrong with Rose by any chance?"

He shook his head and smiled unevenly. "No. Sorry Alice."

Are you going to tell me? I thought. He smiled in my direction, then nodded slightly when Alice slipped back into a trance. He laughed inwardly, then went toward the kitchen. The only reason I didn't follow him, or kept my self from attacking him in the middle of the house, was because he gave me a warning, hostility in his aura as he spared a side long glance that served as a reminder to his earlier demands. I refused the urge to sigh. You don't have to be worried, I won't tell any one without consulting you. I love you.

With that, the start of the countdown began.

EPOV

I've always wished I could sleep—mainly for the reason of avoiding the headaches that other people's thoughts gave me. But now I would never even think of it with Jasper Hale in my life, the person my every thought, every need, circles around— I would never miss a second I could honestly say, if I were to speak my thoughts out loud, that he was the one I loved. That I adore. It's silly that I refused to tell my family, because they were all anxious for me to find someone, but it was still too much to take in. I was so used to being alone that it became a way of life, and before I met Jasper, I was fine with it. But now, with him in my life, I realize that I was merely dealing with the absence in my chest instead of being okay with it. He knew this, and I was thankful that I never had to explain it to him. He would lay with me, kissing me tenderly as he explained everything he ever was, drawing lines, like I had with him, to me and instantly sealing my future in his eyes. We were too alike to be ignored in the concept of eternity.

It became easy for the first two days, listening to his thoughts as we got used to the idea of life with someone else. But, on day three in my seven day countdown—when, being caught off guard when Alice blocked her thoughts from me the way Jasper once had—Esme had smelt Jasper on my shirt. She was quiet about it, and thought, Edward, did you let Jasper borrow your clothes?

I nodded, flipping through the television channels. She was at the stairs, coming down after talking to her husband. "Yes," I said quietly. "He tore some of his hunting a few days ago." I wasn't fond of lying, but when I had to, I was very convincing. She believed me, but her suspicions were still there under the surface. Alice had gone to Seattle with Emmet and Rosalie after school let out, and I was left with Esme, Carlisle, and as always, Jasper. He never left my range so he could still talk and think things to me—most of them vulgar, taunting images he used to tease me. It didn't bother me, but it got in the way of normal conversation sometimes when it distracted me—always, he would laugh privately to him self and then apologize, promising to make it up to me some other time. We only had a few moments where we could see each other during the day, sometimes even less, where we could exchange a peck or small hug.

Esme wouldn't say it out loud, but she had some hope for me, thinking that maybe, at the least, Jasper and I had become friends—which, we were; we told each other anything— and was happy, joyful, that I could have found some one in any form of companion. But it was Carlisle who, after six days, had me worrying unnecessarily, even more so than Rosalie, who was merely jealous that I could have found someone more interesting than her. He caught me on my way to Jasper, and, watching the look that Jasper and I exchanged to each other, immediately asked, Are you with Jasper? It wasn't accusatory, or judgmental, but merely inquisitive. He was just as encouraging and sanguineas Esme was in the respect of me finding some sort of companionship, in any capacity. It surprised me that I had such a hard time telling my family when they were completely fine with a relationship between the two of us, even Rose and Emmet, although Rose was less willing to admit it than her counterpart, and for reasons unknown, I couldn't find my voice in time to answer him. For three seconds, I stalled.

Just lie to him, Jasper thought, looking to Carlisle with a slightly puckered expression like he was trying to not smile. Shake your head, go hunt—do what you can to calm your self. I'll catch up with you in a few hours. When we come back, we'll tell them, okay?

Agreeing, I shook my head to Carlisle and continued past them to go hunt, feeling suddenly overwhelmed with bloodlust that I know Jasper was to be held responsible for. Carlisle was confused, and didn't believe my answer, but it wasn't enough to keep me from fleeing into the luminous night. Snow began falling as I ventured out of range of anything human, or vampire, and focused solely on the hunt; I had been ignoring, until this point, my thirst, and suddenly it overrode any other need, even the rivaling desire to take Jasper and make him mine. The only thing that I cared for was extinguishing the fire that raged inside my throat.

I located a family of elk—it was the only thing within a miles radius, and although the smell wasn't appetizing, it was still alluring. I had them drained within seconds, and my clothes completely composed and spotless. I buried their bodies then went out to find something else to prey on. The snow had risen another inch in the time it took to finish my thirst-quenching, and when Jasper had appeared within range. I could hear him running from the west in my direction, and his voice entered my mind. Edward, I know you can hear me now. He remembered the scene that ensued after I left, where Carlisle and Esme asked him what was going on, and when he had replied the way I would have wanted him to reply. From the look on their faces—absolute thrill, mixed in confusion, slight amusement— and Jasper's recollection of their feelings, I knew, along with Jasper, that they knew. We're telling them tomorrow, he thought amusedly. We're one day shy of a week, aren't we?

Even though it went against the grain, I laughed—he could always make me laugh. I heard him join in just a mile away. I waited for him on a fallen tree, facing the direction I knew he would be coming from. He slowed down to a walk when he appeared within my sight, twenty meters away. He was grinning with the images he had in his head. I could finally grin back without anyone asking me why I was smiling, or without anyone's suspicions and questioning thoughts.

There we go—that's the reaction I've been looking for, he thought. He was three meters away, and had his arms behind his back. Today is just as good as a week mark, Edward. His golden eyes glowed softly, sincerely, showing me how much love he had for me, and me alone. Tenderly, he regarded me, like I was something delicate, which, I hated to admit, I was. You remember what we're doing?

I nodded, my smile fading, as he sat beside me, his right hand on my leg. "Calm down," he whispered, kissing my ear gently. "I'll be right here." He wrapped his right arm around my waist and straddled my lap. I needed him, and he could tell even without his ability to sense it from afar—it was so embarrassing, and he knew that intimately, which only worsened the shame I felt. "I won't ever leave you."

"I know," I whispered back, closing my eyes as he slowly began to press butterfly kisses along my shoulders, neck, jaw, and ears.

"It's okay," he soothed. "There's no reason to be embarrassed, or ashamed, or shy, not when you're with me—I understand completely."

"Alice probably saw this," I said suddenly, feeling panic rise in my throat as he unbuttoned the front of my shirt. He was being overly prissy doing this instead of ripping it off me, like he had been imagining for the past week. He smiled into my skin and laughed, "You're trying to distract me."

"Yeah," I murmured into his hair. "Kind of…"

"Shh…" He hushed, brushing his thumb across my lips. "You'll be okay…" he slipped my shirt off and tossed it behind me.

"Don't baby me… please."

I know this is your first time—my eyes shot open, and I tensed; he didn't stop it— and I'm going to show you an amazing first time; I'm going to make it special. I'll be gentle.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, breath catching, handling the rim of my pants. We were as gentle as humans when we kissed. "I don't mean to embarrass you."

"I just don't want it to change anything," I moaned, no longer able to keep it chained inside my chest.

It would never change the way I think of you—and your lucky enough to know this first hand, to know if I'm lying, which I'm not.

"Jazz…" At that point, he was moving against me, undoing my pants and skillfully working them off me without tearing them on the bark. He exposed the top half of my underwear, and growled excitedly as he toyed with them.

Come on, make some noise, he tempted, prompting me with a deep lunge; he bit just below my ear, not forceful enough to sting me, but enough to pull a snarl from between my teeth. "Jasper."

"That's better." His tongue teased at the side of my mouth. Oh, you're so nervous, Edward. Are you sure you want to do this? I nodded in affirmative, certain. He laid me down on the trunk and worked my jeans off completely. The snow felt good on my back.

"Jazz," I began, distracted when he broke the elastic to the rim of my underwear. "Aren't you going to take off your clothes? Or would you rather I do that?" Within half a second, he had both stopped moving and breathing, his expression turning tortured. He thought the answer immediately, earning my deepest sympathy. I sat up, and he turned his face down, dipping his head into the nook of my shoulder. Our tangled bodies resembled the shape of a heart. I slipped my hands up his arms and began tugging at the rim of his shirt. In his head, he envisioned his body, going over every crescent shaped mark on his surface and thinking that it was repulsive. He apologized, trying to shake it off although I knew better. Stupid isn't it? I never knew I was like this.

"Not till I met you," he voiced. He kissed my ear once.

To lighten his mood, as he has never failed before in making me laugh, I said, "Do you want to know why Rosalie is so sour of you?"

He obliged me. "Why?"

"She's jealous because, while I have never shown her interest, I have shown you some. A lot, actually, more than I've ever given anyone else. She thought that I would never like any one, so it was alright if I didn't want her the way other people did. But that's obviously not the case, is it?"

He laughed humorlessly. "Well, we should make her as jealous as possible, then, shouldn't we?"

I laughed immensely and said, "Do your worst." With that, I took his shirt off and took a deep look at his upper torso; it was flecked with crescent bite marks, ranging across he stomach, shoulders, and arms up to the wrist. How do you like it now?

"You're beautiful, Jazz." I comforted, accepting a kiss that he planted on my lips. Another movement and both of our clothes were at our sides. We touched, moving together in perfect harmony, taking patience and control and gentleness into account; the tree at my back moaned and groaned and eventually split with Jasper's pushing. When it was over, we stared at each other, still intertwined, and listened to our unnecessary breathing; chests heaving, we laid rest our heads beside each other's and let our hands explore wherever they wished. It was perfect, and I was no longer frightened. When we were together, any sort of doubt—if any existed—was obliterated. Things belonged, and I was happy. He was pleased to note this change inside of me—I've been living unhappily for the most of my life, and he was the one who put that to rest. Edward, I love you.

"I love you, too." I whispered. We dressed at our own pace, talking occasionally. We sat together in the lavender-violet tint of wilderness, thinking and feeling each other. It occurred to me that we could possibly have the most intimate relationship imaginable; he could feel every thing I felt, know first-hand if what he did was enough, and know without speaking that I needed something. He could manipulate me if he wanted, or push away the feelings to a more appropriate time. And I would know everything he thought, or imagined. It was a perfect match.

"We can tell them now," I said. It had been several hours since Jasper had left to find me, and several more after we had touched. "I think it's a good time."

He nodded. Yes, that sounds like a good idea.

We got up and walked west, holding hands. His thumb rubbed the dip in my hand and my index finger. Comforting me. I kissed him suddenly, appreciative of his efforts. Thank you, he thought, smiling and returning a brief but passionate kiss on my lips. I breathed in his scent, and immediately wanted more of it. Calm down, he warned, amused and willing. We need to get through this before we can… sleep. He snickered, then began running along side me. When we were close to the house, he thought to me, I'm here. I love you.

Carlisle's thought entered my head. Edward? Are you okay? Its fine— we're completely fine with everything—you and Jazz are good for each other.

At the same time, Emmet's voice boomed in laughter, Bro, you're seriously shaking up with Jazz? That's fine and all, but running away like that? I'm not going to let up on that THAT easy.

We cleared the river. Esme thought joyfully, Oh, Edward, I'm so happy you found someone. Please don't think that we wouldn't be okay with it.

I let go of Jaspers hand and proceeded to the living room. Every one waited there, including Rosalie, although she didn't pay as much attention to me as the others did. Her eyes were focused on the TV, but they scurried over to me every so often Say anything to anybody, and I'll disassemble every one of your possessions and burn them.

Jasper took over for me, smiling, not seeming the smallest bit nervous, as I was. Slowly, a calm ascended over me. "As you can see, we're together. Edward didn't want a big production, so we'll leave it at that."

"You didn't have to feel like you couldn't tell us," Carlisle said. He smiled contently at us. He stood at Esme's side to the right of a chair.

"Yeah, you acted like a baby on us," Rosalie added under her breath. We all chose to ignore it.

"I just wanted time," I explained, keeping my chin up. "Time to get used to… not being alone."

"Of course," Esme sighed merrily, holding her hands together in front of her, relieved to finally see me with someone and happy. Emmet, beside Rose on the couch with his arm around her shoulders, chuckled to him self and thought of ways to tease us. At least he FINALLY scored.

I chuckled, and he looked to me, surprised. You're not going to be fun about this, are you?

I shook my head. Alice, who had remained quiet in her corner of the room, got up, a full-tooth grin on her pixie-like features, and hugged me. Her mind was clear, and she recalled several visions at the same time: me and Jazz in the forest, in a clearing, laughing and tackling each other in mock-combat; the sky was bright, and our smiling faces reflected the diamond-pores that caught the light: Jasper and me sitting together in the lunch room at school, Alice sitting with a boy at our table who was not yet one of our own kind; Jasper kissing me in a pool of warm water, under stars on a far away island… Your life will be perfect with him.

"Thanks," I whispered into her ear. She smirked, rolled her eyes, and then went over to hug Jazz. He grinned back, then, after a quick thank you,he brought me back into a half-hug. Now, was that so hard?

"No, not at all," I answered, smiling toward him. Then, added, "Thank you," for the rest of my understanding family. Esme was the second to give us a congratulatory hug, followed by Carlisle, then a brotherly slap on the shoulder by Em, and finally a curt nod from Rose. My eventful night had turned into a passionate throw yet again after we hung around with the rest of the family. Jazz participated in a make-shift game of chess, using seven boards that Em and Rose, with the help of Alice, helped to create. He let me win. Then we migrated to the piano and began to play a duet; Alice even chipped in with a vocal note, singing in harmony as Jazz and I made it up. Esme cheered, Carlisle at her side, and the other two admired it from under the stairs.

I never thought that this life could be so perfect. I had him. It was effortless and perfect. And Jazz agreed.

Isle Esme

EPOV

"Edward," Esme whispered, pulling me aside. We were on our trip back from hunting in north Oregon, and she had asked me mentally to stay behind just enough to talk to me in private. We ran behind the others, including my love Jazz. It was a family trip.

"Thank you, mom." I said, addressing her earlier thoughts. It had been four months since Jasper and I had announced to our family that we were together. Things were great; absolutely perfect, in every single definition of the word. Everyone accepted it, even the reluctant Rosalie, although no one could match the affection Esme had for the pair of us: she had thought before that I would never find anyone if it didn't happen in seventy years, but now, with the discovery of Jazz, she had other ambitions in mind. Although I had no regrets about it, Jazz and I had very little time to our selves. We had no house or place to be free and get our feel of each other. We could escape to the forest if we were in dire need of each other, but even then it wasn't as it could be; we wanted our own place. He had thought of marriage before, but we both decided that we didn't need a piece of paper to be together. That and male/male marriage wasn't condoned in Washington, and would draw more than enough attention from the outside. We weren't in a rush, but the way things were going, we would soon need time and place to touch. Esme knew this, and before, it came to her; she would let us spend some time in her island while she built us a house several miles out from Forks. I had yet to talk about it with Jazz, but I knew he would say yes. Eagerly, he would say yes.

"You're welcome, dear." She smiled, replying kindly. Just try not to destroy the entire house—I'm fond of the patios and living room. I chuckled. "Thank you, again."

I know you'll be fine together—I trust you both. Besides, she added, I am positive that you're better than Emmet and Rosalie in that respect.

"I would think so, too."

Ahead, Alice had a vision of an Island, tropical, bright, filled with life and light and the likes. Her voice chimed in. Edward, did I just see you and Jazz moving away from us? She waited, then another vision of Esme's finished house somewhere near the Forks vegetation appeared in her thoughts, along with other undignified scenes in which Jasper and I were the stars. I smiled privately, and Esme asked what I was so happy about, then thought better when she considered her proposal for the two of us. Alice continued. Oh, I see. Just for future reference, you will need to replace two beds, countless articles of clothes and sheets, and pillows. A lot of those. Her mental voice was tittering. I'll keep you posted on your debts.

We ran in silence the rest of the way home, no one bothering to speak or think anything to me, which suited me fine. But, just a few minutes away from Forks, Jasper had a sudden outburst. Edward, I cannot stand it! Please, take me somewhere else and fuck me. Then tell me what you are thinking of and why you're lingering around with Esme. But the first part first.

I refused a smile, then began to diverge from the path my family took. Alice laughed aloud, and I was flooded with questions.

Where are you two going?Carlisle asked, then retracted it when he realized what we were doing.

Hey, bro, are you off to knock boots with Jazz? Emmet thought with humor.

Just be quiet, Rosalie sighed. I could hear you two last time just a couple of miles away from where I and Em hunt. It was disturbing…

See you at home, Esme thought.

Soon, Jazz and I were alone on the boundaries of Forks, with nothing to keep us apart. After it was done, and several trees and rocks were broken, Jazz put his hands on my stomach and gently pushed me against a large boulder.

So, anything captivating you'd be interested in telling me?

"Yes, there is." I grinned, taking his head into my hand and knotting his hair against my pull. We kissed briefly. Stop it and tell me, otherwise we might not be able to stop our selves for a second round.

"Sorry, love, but I already have a hard time doing that."

"Tell me now," he hissed. And then I'll make it worth your while.

"Well, Esme had a wonderful idea that I know you would enjoy. It's been hard on us, Jazz, trying to be together, and she knows this. She offered to build us a house, somewhere out side of Forks where we would be completely out of range, and in the meanwhile we could take a small vacation at her tropical island."

"She has an island?" He asked, impressed. We both knew that we were content with our time together to go back to the house. We redressed quickly and walked northeast.

"Yes, and it's beautiful—but it pales incredibly in comparison to you."

"I don't see how that's possible," he started, projecting his feelings onto me. He was flattered, embarrassed, and gleeful. "But I thank you."

"It's completely possible, and the truth. I would love to take you there. We have restrictions, but we can manage for a month."

"What type of restrictions?" He laced his arms around my waist and leaned his head on my shoulder.

"The house must still be standing, and we should leave some of the tropics erect."

We laughed for a while, but then lapsed into more silence. We walked leisurely, finding it harder and harder to resist the opportunity of the solitude we rarely had. For a second time, we touched, this time longer and more tenderly. When we finally made it back, a day and a half passed since we had departed. Esme was already ready to begin building, and already had our tickets to Houston and South America paid for. Easily enough, we planned our departure for that next week.

You also have to rebuild a wall, Alice informed, waving to us good bye as we left our drive way. And… some of the foundation is missing, so you also need to re-pour it. Add the kitchen, too—you're going to ruin the kitchen. But the rest of the island is okay, even the pools and living room.

I laughed with her, and Jazz joined in. Is she informing you on your queue? I nodded, taking his hand in mine.

JPOV

On our flight over to Houston, onto South America, I was nervous, though not deservedly so; it was purely nerves, in the figurative sense. Edward didn't even try to comfort me in my adolescent worries, seeing them as just that—adolescent and completely silly, fears that I could easily overcome. Being able to be alone—completely alone, without anyone within a fifty mile radius—was overwhelming to think about; being with him always gave me a complexion. But upon arrival, I was taken aback by the beauty of the place and forgot my prior worries.

We docked in the small port on the west side in the night after a half-days worth of traveling, excited and thrilled at this opportunity to go wild. In the lavender glow of the night, he lead me up to the house on the south side, holding my hand and trying to push away his new-found anxiety.

"It's good to find a place where we don't have to deal with Rosalie," he joked, half smiling while he opened the sliding glass door and allowed me to enter first.

Or being too loud, I reminded him. The interior was a clean, practically unused living room, on theme with tropical colors and decorations. There was a sectionals couch that surrounded a small television on the right, a connected kitchen and several doors and hall ways branching off from the main room. "Can we live here?" I whispered. It's perfect. No family, no one to interfere, no obligations.

He nodded. "It is amazing, and as much as I love it here, and would probably take it over, Esme is building us our own, personalized home." He lead me back into a hall way that ended in a bed room, with a canopy bed, large walk in closet, and glass wall with an open door that lead out to a patio. The patio dipped into the sea and was at the edge of the island, lined out along the coast that eventually turns into an expanse of sand. Silently, I agreed with him, lingering in the door way while he went to sit on the bed.

The satin folded slightly under him. He looked toward me, eyes smiling when he set his gaze on mine. He smoothed the fabric to his left. "Come."

Slowly, I found courage enough to sit beside him. He kissed my ear and pressed one hand on my chest. "Jasper," he moaned, unbuttoning my shirt, pressing more violent kisses on my neck. My eyes closed against my will. Edward, can I ask you something?

"Yes," he hissed into my ear, nibbling on my lobe and massaging my chest and stomach, trying to force me on my back.

Can we go slow?

"Of course, love…" He whispered, working one of my sleeves off my shoulder. "Whatever you want…"

Obliging his desire, I allowed him to press me to the bed. Our lips locked in fire, and moved with electric heat. Accidentally, I assumed, he tore the other sleeve from my shoulder and held my wrists to my sides, making sure I was immobile and susceptible to his assault. I huffed little exasperated breaths, rasping and tossing under bondage. "Edward," I moaned, taking an opportunity to speak when my lips weren't in use. "Please…"

"Please what?" He hissed provocatively, trying to make a slut out of me. His aura was a mixture of dark emotions, ranging from lust and smugness to desire and certain, undefined needs. He needed to hear me beg, and his responsive emotions confirmed this.

Humoring him, I complied. "Please, Edward… touch me." His desire overwhelmed me, and I withered under his touches along my abdomen and thighs. He knew I couldn't hold out for much longer, and began to move his hand to my sensitive area. I cursed. He growled. I came only a minute later, but I was no where near satisfied. Quickly, I flipped our positions, straddling him and forcing his hands behind his head.

"Jazz," he started, cut off when I caught his throat in my teeth. "Thank you…"

I chuckled, pulling away from his skin and slowly, painfully slowly, undressing him. "I want you…" In response, he simply turned his head and held his breath. In thought, I added, I love you, and I want you now…

Without anymore preamble, I undressed him. "Jazz," he hissed, arching his back as I worked his body with my hands—when I stroked him over his jeans, under his jeans, when I finally got to taste his hardness. He uttered profanities under his breath, and screamed when I entered him, making the resting birds on the island flutter their wings in surprise. Even though there was no need for him to get used to it—there is no pain, merely pleasure—I still allowed him time to relax, time to readjust to his growing, spiked desire. But also for my own pleasure did I stall, amused at the embarrassment and need that was on his face. Desire wrapped around him, and my aura, tainting the very air I lived in, forcing a half strangled moan from between his fangs. "Jazz," he whined. "Please, please…"

I leaned inward, intent on feeling his eyes, pressing my hands to either side of his head. "Please… what?" I raised an eyebrow, teasing and punishing him for doing this to me. He whimpered, hesitating. I smiled. "Say it, Edward, and I'm yours."

"Ungh, you bastard…" He whispered. I laughed, and he continued. "Please, Jasper, please… don't make me say it…"

His confidence dwindled, overrode by shame, humility, and lust. But he couldn't just get out of it; I began to pull out, and he lunged inward, following my retreating dick. "Please, give it to me. Fuck me."

I grinned, recoiling slightly: I never heard him cuss before. "There it is." I began to push my self back and forth, back and forth, inside of him, starting slowly, but gradually picking up speed.

I couldn't stand it. Thinking to him, Oh, fuck going slow! I held his length in my hand and pumped to the rhythm my moving hips set.

"J-ah-sp-er!" He cried, taking hold of my waist and pressing me harder into him, tilting my head toward his prostate. "That's it!"

I could tell, and laughed in my ecstasy. I was so close, as was he. Just a few more minutes, and I would fall off the edge. Edward, I thought to him, rubbing his head with my thumb. I'm so close… you're so close… anything… tell me, anything, and I'll do it…

He smiled, staving off moans to address me. "Go faster."

I did. He threw his head back. "Damn it, faster!"

I was so close—any little thing could send me off; I couldn't control it. With three last thrusts, with matched amounts of pumps, and the thought of him entering me—vivid visions I made sure he heard—we came together. Another second, and our bodies relaxed. A total of three minutes passed. I grimaced, pulling out of him and lying beside him. He heaved short, jerky breaths, feeling somewhat satisfied, but mainly ashamed, for what reason I couldn't attain. "Uh," I began, unsure what to say, how to apologize.

He smiled slightly, turning his burning gaze toward me. "There's no need to apologize," he said, an edge of humor in his voice, like every word I said was the darkest blasphemy.

I shook my head. "But I am. I didn't mean for it to go by so fast."

"First off," he began, raising his hand and ticking off his fingers like a list. "That was more than fine—amazing is more of an accurate adjective. It was amazing, no matter how long it lasted. Two," he leaned up on one elbow, letting his lips hover just off the edge of mine. "We have time—an abundance of time, time in which we can stretch this out for…" he trailed off, hinting to the length he was referring to. I smiled as he went on. "And, I never meant to curse, but we all do things under stress. Jasper, it's been too long—I understand; you needed it, just like me."

I forced our lips together; they parted gently. You're right, it was amazing, you're amazing. I love you.

He grinned into our locked lips, humor and post orgasmic bliss overriding his prior negative emotions. He separated us briefly, eyes closed. "And," he whispered, taking my head into his left hand. "We didn't wreck too much—Esme will be happy that only her bed's posts are broken, and not the wall, or…" he gestured to the glass doors. "…the patios… pool…"

I grinned, pulling back. He was right. Two of the three bed posts were split, cracks running down both lengths and weakening continuously. But other than that, there was little damage: one of the pillows ripped under our weight and constant friction, and the blankets tore only slightly. I knew, not having to ask Alice, that this was only the beginning of our chaotic trek through this island: I expected that I indeed could not keep a promise to Esme to leave anything upright and intact. Edward laughed with my thought, and pressed his hands on my chest, pushing over me to lie dominate on top. He straddled me. "Forgive me, it's become far too irritating to leave alone in my thoughts but, Jasper, why the hell do you still have your pants on?"

And like that, round two began. We lasted for hours, tracking a path of destruction through out the house hold and patio: the bed was in chunks, the second bed teetering on the brink of ruins, all sheets and blankets shredded, doors partially abolished, and parts of foundation and brick cracked or strewn about the beach. The sun came up over the horizon as we neared our tireless end, which was taken under the ocean. When it finally ended, we made our way back to the shore, for once completely satisfied with our selves, and each other.

"I love you," he whispered under his breath, shyly looking at me though his eyelashes. He smiled once, then turned his eyes to his feet. I held and kissed his palm, stopping us in our trek back to the distant house. I turned him to face me, laying my fingers under his chin. "Edward," I spoke aloud, tilting his gaze upward. "Look at me." Please, I added in thought. He responded, slightly anxious and unusually shy for some reason. He held my eyes, and waited for a response. I was caught in the beauty of his eyes, the beauty of his bone structure, the gorgeous reflections that the sun cast upon his satin skin. I smiled, taken aback. "Sorry," I whispered. "You're too beautiful for your own good."

Softly, he smiled. "Thank you," he murmured, taking hold of one of my hands and pressing one of my palms to his cheek. "You were saying?"

I laughed a bit. "I'm not a mind reader—just incredibly sensitive. But I still cannot attain to why you're so… anxious… I understand if you're nervous; it's our first time alone, away from prying eyes, away from our family and hikers and… Rosalie… but I don't understand why… please, let me into your mind. Tell me what's overwhelming you."

I gauged his aura. He had the nerve to feel smug. "You're adorable when you're confused. Did you know that, love?"

I closed my eyes, embarrassed. "Edward, please…" I tried not to think, but it proved impossible: I still had a hard time not hating my self, and he knew that. I hated compliments when I knew they weren't true…

"Jazz," he hissed, catching me before I got any further. I opened my eyes to a furious Edward, and knew that I was in trouble.

"Damn right you are," he said. He pulled me into his arms, but kept our faces facing each other. "You're the most beautiful thing in existence—" I grimaced, but he continued. "You're the most loving person I have ever met, the one who suffers and puts up with your surroundings so that others are unburdened, so that others don't know your pain. You even adapted our way of life, going against everything we are to be moral. It's the most selfless act I could imagine… and yet, you still hate your self… And you ask why I was feeling anxious? It's because I know that I love you—that you're everything in the world that I want, what I am, what I want to be; you're my reason for living this eternal life. And I was scared to voice it, to make it known to everyone, to you… I know I've told you I loved you, and I meant it, then and now, but I never told you how much… how much you mean to me…"

He had to stop; his eyes were as close as any vampire gets to crying. But he wasn't sad; he was outright in love, and happy. I was swallowed in his feelings. For once, my mind went blank, a black sheet on which nothing was remembered, only his face, body, soul, and love for me. I stopped breathing. "I…I…" I began, swallowing after a minute of intense staring. His eyes searched mine, proving what was in my heart to be true when he reached his conclusion. I smiled and started over. "I love you too—I'm so deeply in love with you, it's insane… every thing I am, what I'm not happy with, the ugly parts, the black hole, you fill with everything with what I want to be…" I kissed his lips, then wrapped my arms around his neck. I was almost crying, too. "I love you… I love you, I love you, I love you…!" I cried, smashing our bodies together, the need to let him know my love was true overpowering me.

This time, as we kissed, we sank again to the sand, the decent into our eternal life together. We made love for a fifth time, going on for days on end until even we had to stop, from fear, if not need of a break, for breaking more than the minimal amount of the island. It was night time—lavender for the immortal, not really a darkness, but a soft light that appeased our senses—when we finally drew to a fiery stop, somewhere on the other side of the island. We sat in the tropics and looked onto our mingled, intertwined bodies. We were content, under a sea of stars, in each others arms. We said nothing for the first week, unable to move even with our growing hunger. For once, it was more than enough. He was anything and everything. We were in love, and not even fire could keep us apart.