Disclaimer: Twilight and its characters do not belong to me. I'm just playing with them. The original characters, however, do belong to me. Jasper as the God of War and Peter just knowing shit belong to idreamofeddie.

A/N: Hey, everyone! It's been a long time, way, way longer than I ever wanted or intended to go without posting. The last couple of years have been rough, and while I might have been able to deal with that since real life is pretty much always rough, there were circumstances at the time and that developed during that time that made it difficult for me to cope both physically and emotionally. If I'm being honest, those circumstances are still ongoing, but I'm doing my best to work either with or around them. I'm not always successful at that, but I'm trying.

I want to thank my betas and prereaders, Shelljayz and juliangelus, for helping me through this chapter even though you have zero time to spare. I appreciate that you helped me anyway.

Please note that there will be no set posting schedule. As I mentioned above, I've still got shit going on and it sometimes prevents me from being able to get stuff done. My betas and prereaders have a lot on their plates as well and that makes it difficult to squeeze in time for editing. As I'm sure you can guess, that makes the editing process slow-going. Also, I am not immune to writer's block which is something I am slowly working through.

Anyway, I've missed all of you! Thanks for sticking with me despite everything.

And now, on to the good stuff...

oOo

The Major's POV

I was not happy. I was fuckin' pissed off, in fact. Probably the most pissed off I had ever been in my life, and Savannah fuckin' Devane was responsible.

The fake mating bond she'd forged between Maria and me wasn't my idea of a grand time, but under its constraints, it had allowed me to flourish in a certain way while suppressing Jasper…at least when the God of War wasn't at play—then we were both on the outs. This bond was different. This bond was the opposite. As soon as Savannah linked her and Jasper together, I'd been bound by a goddamn straitjacket, strapped Hannibal Lecter-style into a full-body restraint, gagged and thrown into a padded, vampire-resistant, soundproofed cell from which there was no escape. I had yet to find one at least, and if Jasper and I were going to get out of this clusterfuck, I could not be sidelined. I wasn't even on the sidelines really. I wasn't even anywhere close to the game. It was more like I was sitting at a bar, watching the game on the latest top of the line TV. Unlike at a bar though, all I could do was hurl muffled curses at the stupid thing; I had nothing to throw at and break it with, and even if I did, my arms and legs were incapacitated. I was fuckin' weak. How in the hell was I supposed to kick Jasper's ass when I was so damn useless?

I was beginning to regret my decision to keep what Bella was to us a secret. If Jasper knew she was our mate, it would make all this mind-bender shit easier for him, for us, to fight. The only problem was that he wasn't the only one affected by this whole thing. Ever since Savannah love-spelled us, I had no concept of time, which meant I had no idea how long I'd been locked up inside Jasper's—that is to say my—screwy, unstable head. That may have had something to do with the fact that I felt like I'd smoked a pound or ten of top-notch weed. I may have enjoyed the faux-high under different circumstances but this situation was not cool, and I was not amused. When I finally escaped this mental prison, I was going on a killing spree, and my first victim would be Savannah fuckin' Devane.

oOo

Tuesday, December 29th, 2080

JPOV

It was a human blood day for me again. Only this time, I'd just barely managed a swallow of one of Carlisle's bags before I lost the contents of my stomach. It was the first time I'd thrown up in a week; I blamed Savannah for my relapse. On the bright side, the wolves remained clueless about her presence, and my quick temper with them continued to cause their fear of me to mount, which brought a modicum of light to my dark mood.

It was now early afternoon, and Savannah and I were deep in Olympic National Park.

Peter and Charlotte had initially insisted on coming with us to chaperone, but I refused with no small amount of irritation. They may have been concerned about the way Savannah was fucking with my head, but that didn't mean I needed them babysitting me all the damn time. They disagreed, but I got what I wanted anyway—they stayed home, realizing that if they were dead they would be of no use to me.

Savannah's and my purpose for this little trek into the forest was a simple one. She was going to try her hand at hunting animals, and I was here to show her the ropes as was only right for her "mate" to do. I was in another one of those phases where the bitterness I should have felt was nonexistent.

"How different is this from hunting humans?" she queried. She stood with her back to me, just inches away, my hands perched on her hips as we surveyed the surrounding woods from our position on a rock wall that wasn't more than twenty feet high.

"Very," I said. "It's more organic almost. Humans have a strong will to survive but an animal's is stronger. They fight harder. I think it's because humans are further removed from the instinct, from survival of the fittest. It isn't tested as often. It's still intrinsic but it's less vital, less circular, just…less. Animals don't have quite the same smarts, the capability to potentially outwit and challenge us, but it can be more satisfying in a way."

Savannah nodded. "I like that you've thought so deeply about this."

"I've got eternity and a shitload of memories I'm trying to avoid. Pondering shit helps sometimes," I stated simply, almost feeling guilty when she flinched.

She changed the subject. "Have I ever told you that I love the way you talk?"

"My accent?" I asked with a smirk.

"Not exactly," she replied. "Though it is damn sexy."

I fought off the revulsion that statement brought on, choosing to ignore the fact that Savannah wanted me even more than I wanted her and that her desire was actually genuine. All those different directions tugged at me again, tugged at me more, reminding me just how fucked I was. I still should have been more upset about it, but it would only be a matter of time.

"Then what?"

"How you phrase things," she explained, her tone shy. "It's just…very attractive."

I decided not to comment on how strange I thought that was and also refused to dwell on the fact that if Bella had told me the same thing, I wouldn't have thought it was weird at all. I would have liked it.

"So," Savannah said next. "What now?"

"This is the part that's similar to hunting a human," I responded, gripping her hips just a fraction tighter as I began the tedious process of instruction. "Focus your senses. See your surroundings, hear them, feel them. Blood is blood. Animal doesn't smell as great as human but you'll still know it when you catch the scent. When you do, home in on it and let your instincts take over. Since we're in the middle of the forest and you're not hunting a person, you don't have to be quite so discreet about your kill."

She nodded again and centered herself, breathing deeply as she took in all the scents our noses were being assaulted with and separating them into categories: flora and fauna, breeze and stream, and finally, blood—that of a mountain lion to be precise.

The burn in my throat flared white-hot as the gamey aroma flooded my nostrils and hers, her need for blood coalescing with mine and twisting my gut with the hollow ache of starvation. It elicited a whimper of torment from Savannah, who was riding along on my gift as the unwanted interloper she was. If she'd felt how intense and agonizing my thirst was before now, she'd made no indication of it.

The mountain lion was to the southeast, the muted sound of it sipping at a stream heard vaguely over the collective babble of the forest, utterly unaware of its potential impending demise.

"Well, have at it, sugar," I directed, impatient for her to make her move. Her bloodlust needed to quit exacerbating my own. The family's wasn't exactly comfortable, but it was familiar, easier to deal with and shove aside. Savannah was struggling with the desire for human blood, which would not be quenched after this feed, but it would be more manageable and that would make me a little less crazy, if that was even possible. Then again, I'd pretty much been at the point of no return on the insane front since Maria dragged my ass from the Confederate Army and made me her own personal chew toy.

The word sugar left a sour taste on my tongue. I'd been using it for the women in my life for the whole of it, but over the last several months it was almost exclusively a name I'd called Bella, even if I only used it to annoy her. It was irrevocably intertwined with her now and using it for Savannah felt wrong, dirty and tainted almost, but I didn't know what else to call her. Any other term of endearment was out of the question.

The way Savannah stalked noiselessly through the trees spoke of years of practice but she always had been good at the "hunt and kill" part of our nature. She wasn't particularly ruthless in it but she was efficient. What surprised me was the way that once she pounced, she wrestled with her prey, prolonging the fight and inevitable feed. The hunt had never been anything more than a means to an end for her when I'd known her before, but now she was reveling in it, tumbling all over the forest floor as she grappled with the large cat. Her actions weren't cruel or overly damaging, just enthusiastic, and unfortunately, I couldn't deny that it was hot. Unlike most of the rest of my family, she didn't snap the beast's neck before she latched her mouth to its throat and drained it, preferring to let it struggle for those few moments before her venom paralyzed it. It was another thing I'd never seen her do.

When she was done she was covered in twigs, leaves and random underbrush, her blonde hair gloriously disheveled and clothes all askew. They were ripped in places, exposing slivers of pale, glittering skin. Her eyes were black and bright with excitement. She looked unbearably sexy. I wondered for a moment if I would still find her so appealing when they were streaked with gold, eventually to become solid with it if she stayed long enough and kept her promise.

An image of Bella flew unbidden through my mind then, looking just as Savannah did now—a vampire fresh from the kill, blood dripping from the corners of her mouth, lips smeared with it, and so wound up from the thrill of the hunt that she was in desperate need of a good, rough fuck. It sent my lust skyrocketing and the desire I felt for the woman before me amplified tenfold, but even though it was Savannah who ignited my desire, it was the picture of Bella I couldn't banish from my head; it was beyond distracting. Despite my fucked up situation, I wanted it. I wanted to see Bella as a vampire someday, thrilling in the hunt and unashamed of the aftermath. I'd never allowed myself to want anything like that before. I'd never met anyone who made me want it, who made me want anything, in all my years of this existence, Savannah and her bullshit mating bond notwithstanding. I wasn't so confused, in this moment, that I mistook either desire for reality—not the physical for Savannah or the idea of a future with Bella.

I hoped Savannah didn't notice how affected I was by her mussed state, either through my emotions or a glance below my belt, and try to do anything about it. I wasn't certain I would be able to resist her. I may want her at the moment but I didn't want to be forced into it, and I sure as hell didn't want to be imagining Bella if Savannah took advantage of the current tent in my pants. I would never be able to forget that, and I didn't want to taint what should be something beautiful if anything ever did happen between Bella and me. It would always be in the back of my mind. It certainly wouldn't be Bella's fault, but the negative association would probably always be there.

Luckily, Savannah kept her focus on my face, still too lost in her excitement to pay attention to much else, which gave me time to get myself under control. All thoughts of Bella slipped my mind then as frustration with Savannah crept through my veins, overtaken by the now recovering strength of our bond. Hadn't she learned anything from our time in the Southern Wars? Didn't she remember that to be unaware of any little detail meant the difference between life and death, even if it was something that appeared to be unrelated to anything dangerous—like how my dick was standing at attention?

But then she was standing before me, that enthusiasm gushing out of her in a way I hadn't been able to feel before but couldn't ignore now. My frustration dissolved in an instant as I took in her happy expression and the smile that spread across my face in response to it was reflexive.

"That was exhilarating!" she practically squealed, breathless and bouncing on her toes the way Alice often did.

"You like it more than humans," I observed frankly. That truth was plain on her face.

Her smile widened. "Yes," she agreed. "It's just like you said. They fight harder to survive, which makes it all the more satisfying—to know that there's something else out there that wants to live as badly as you do."

"And sometimes you need it," I added. She quirked her brow in question. "The fight, especially because of where we come from."

Savannah nodded in understanding. "That's true, but it's less about that for me. Some humans just give up so easily. I wish I could let the ones that fight to survive go, just to give them a chance, you know? But I would never risk the wrath of the Volturi."

"Well, you certainly looked like you were havin' fun," I remarked, still grinning.

"I was," Savannah said, closing the diminutive distance between us and reaching up to run her hand over my cheek and back through my hair. Her eyes softened as she gazed into mine, stirring something within me that was vaguely familiar but that I couldn't place. I covered her hand, slipping my fingers between hers and threading them together.

"I'm glad."

She tugged on our joined hands, leading me to a thick, rough-barked fir tree and sat before it Indian-style with the entire right side of her body resting perpendicular to the trunk. I sank down next to her with my back propped against it, my feet planted flat on the ground, my knees bent and my wrists balanced casually atop them. We sat in a mostly comfortable silence for a while, and like so few things were with her, it was nice.

"So..." she hedged.

"Spit it out, Savannah," I scolded, teasing.

"The other day when I asked about your family and their eyes, you said 'we' drink animal blood," she said. "I'm guessin' that means that at some point, that was your diet of choice."

It was a statement, not a question. It set my teeth on edge but I did my best not to clench my jaw or let the rest of my body tense up. She didn't need to know she'd struck a nerve. The reality was that if she dug too much into it, I might end up telling her everything about my current feeding predicament, and I wanted to keep that private.

"Yes," I responded without emotion, careful to keep my body language neutral.

"Why did you switch?" she asked, her curiosity sweeping over me with sudden intensity. "If you don't mind my asking."

Asking why I switched to animal blood was a less risky question than why I'd taken up human blood again, but I still needed to choose my words wisely.

"Because of my gift," I said.

Savannah frowned thoughtfully. "What do you mean?"

"No one is ever happy when they die," I replied matter-of-factly. "Every time I feed, whether my kill is animal or human, I essentially die with my prey because of how we're linked through my gift. It isn't that animals don't feel, you experienced that just now, but their emotions aren't the same. They're less complex than a human's, easier to bear. Animals don't make me feel like I'm drowning when I take their lives."

"I understand," she said slowly, "as much as I can, at least. I don't want that for you, Jasper. I don't want you to feel like you're drowning."

All I could offer was a nod at that. We sat there for several moments, absorbed in the background noise of the forest, and I waited for her to ask why I'd gone back to human blood, but the question never came.

Another wave of curiosity hit me after a while, mixing with a healthy dose of reluctance, but I could tell the former emotion would win out. It was another thing about Savannah that was wholly different; in the past, her uncertainty would have kept her mouth shut. There was a trace of the woman I knew in her pensive expression as she considered whether or not speaking was a good idea and in the cautiousness of her tone when she finally did. "Why does your house smell like a human, Jasper?"

Although I knew Savannah might ask, which Peter, Charlotte and I had prepared for, it was exponentially more difficult not to react to this particular line of questioning than it was to her query about my feeding habits. I barely contained the surge of violence that coursed through my veins as a result. It was contradictory that the only thing that allowed me to do so was my overwhelming need to protect Bella—that anger stemming directly from said protectiveness, but the tactician in me screamed that brutality would result in the opposite of keeping Bella out of the line of fire.

If Savannah felt my struggle, she hid it superbly, but I was fairly confident in her ignorance. She "borrowed" my gift more than she needed to, but unlike Maria, she left me to my own devices quite a bit. That didn't mean I wouldn't be watching her like a hawk to make sure Bella remained as hidden as a human could be when a vampire had their scent. Unfortunately, I would still have to give Savannah some information but the details I gave would serve a purpose—specific enough to quell her curiosity but vague enough to preserve as much of Bella's safety and anonymity as possible.

Use truth to spawn the most believable lies.

"Emmett and Alice have a human friend. She comes by the house sometimes," I said, turning my head just enough so that I no longer had to watch her out of the corner of my eye.

"So she's a pet," Savannah mused with interest, maneuvering her whole body to face me as she proceeded with her questioning. I didn't even have to fake my derisive snort or the mocking expression that twisted my face. She raised her hands in placation and quickly amended, "Okay, she's not a pet."

"Why do you care?" I asked as casually as I could manage.

"I don't, I guess. I'm just tryin' to understand is all," she explained.

I wasn't sure I believed her.

"You don't need to understand," I told her firmly.

"Does she know?" she asked next.

Her real question was, does she know what we are?

"Of course she doesn't know, Savannah," I snapped, exasperated. "The Cullens are many things, but stupid isn't one of them. I'm not either."

"You think I don't know that?" she exclaimed, just as exasperated.

"Honestly, I rarely have any idea what you think or know."

"You know what you need to," she said.

"Do I?" She averted her eyes and didn't answer which was all the answer I needed. "That's what I thought. "

The way Savannah stiffened told me she felt my sense of betrayal at her secrecy.

"Isn't your human bothered by what we are?" she deflected, baffled.

"She's not my human," I said.

If only she was, I sighed internally, a pang hitting me straight in the heart.

I couldn't tell what Savannah made of my response, if she felt how conflicted I was or if she was still even using my gift at all. She merely returned her gaze to me, her expression intent. "So, is she? Bothered?"

"Sometimes," I admitted.

"And she still comes around?"

"She's not particularly smart," I informed her with derision. It physically pained me to say it; proclaiming something that wasn't even remotely true about the woman I loved, insulting her, was the last thing I wanted to do, and Bella would have my balls if she heard me, but I couldn't care about that. All I could care about was the probability that Savannah didn't feel how much it hurt. Considering how absolutely fascinated by the idea of a human that ignored their survival instincts she was, I figured my chances were fifty-fifty.

"There has to be something special about her," Savannah insisted. "How else would she manage to secure the friendship of a whole family of vampires?"

"Not the whole family," I corrected her irritably. "And I wouldn't know. I made a cursory threat assessment when Emmett and Alice first took an interest, but other than that, I haven't paid enough attention to her to know if there's anything worth paying attention to."

Savannah dismissed pretty much all of that as soon as I said it. If she knew just how untrue each and every word was, aside from the annoying bit, she wouldn't be so quick to do so.

"Will I get to meet her?" she queried, sounding hopeful.

Red tinted my vision for a moment, and I could see it, hear it, feel it so clearly: my hands wrapped around Savannah's throat, the creak of her flesh as I squeezed, her terrified squeak and the fear filling her so powerfully that I wouldn't need my gift to feel it, the hard jerk and metallic keen as her head ripped away from her neck and the sweet stench of her free-flowing venom, her lifeless eyes staring up at the fragments of sunlight peeking through the canopy of treetops, the crackle of the flames eating away at her torn body and reducing it to ash.

The fantasy faded as quickly as it had come on, the images leaving me curiously numb when a fire of rage should have been lit under my ass with them. There was a hollow feeling in my chest, as though whatever it was that made me me had been wholly used up and nothing was left but the ruined packaging. It wasn't the first time I'd felt this way; it wasn't even the second. It was actually a fairly common occurrence and it never led to good things. At the very least, I no longer felt like I was being pulled in too many different directions, but that wouldn't last. None of it would; especially not with Savannah here.

I levelled her with a condescending look that screamed "you are the world's biggest idiot.".

"Right," she mumbled, chagrined. "Stupid question."

I nodded in agreement and rose from my seat on the ground. "You're really not missin' out on anything, sugar."

She offered her own timid nod and I offered her my hand, twining our fingers together when she was on her feet.

I'd achieved my objective. Bella was safe. For now, at least.

"Let's get home," I said.

Despite the nature of our exchange, she grinned brightly up at me and bounced up on her toes to kiss my cheek. At the feel of her lips on my skin, Bella faded from my mind.

oOo

A/N: Next up, we hear from Peter.

Take care, everyone! :)