After midnight, when the ballroom is nearly empty, Jasper asks Bella for one last dance. As they sway, the band plays something soft and romantic, and Jasper begins to sing quietly to her. His Southern accent warms every note, the words of the love song floating around them. Bella closes her eyes, completely present in his arms, savoring the intimacy of his voice and their closeness. Even the staff pause to watch, moved by the tenderness of the moment
Continue reading →His Dangerous Waltz – Excerpt
The moment their eyes met across the crowded ballroom, Bella felt something fundamental shift in the universe. Jasper Whitlock moved toward her with the fluid grace of a predator, devastatingly elegant in his perfectly tailored tuxedo, commanding attention from every person in the room. When he extended his hand for the waltz, his Southern drawl was velvet over steel.
“Miss Swan, I believe this dance belongs to me.”
The music began, and as he swept her onto the dance floor, Bella realized her carefully controlled life had just collided with something infinitely more dangerous—and infinitely more intoxicating.
The Harley hummed beneath us as we left Forks, each mile carrying me farther from Edward’s suffocating plans and closer to something that felt like freedom. The salt air filled my lungs, sharp and clean, washing away months of silence. Wrapped around Jasper’s waist, I realized how natural it felt—how right. His voice crackled through the helmet speakers, low and warm. “Beautiful, isn’t it?” he asked as the Pacific spread out before us like a promise. For the first time in months, I could breathe. For the first time in forever, I wanted more.
Continue reading →“Bella,” he said, his voice rough with emotion, “I’ve lived a long time, and I’ve seen what forever looks like. Centuries passing like seasons, decades blending into memory, time stretching endlessly ahead without purpose or meaning. But none of it meant anything until I met you. You’ve reminded me what it feels like to hope. To breathe. To belong somewhere. You’ve taken a hundred and sixty years of existence and made them feel like they were all just preparation for loving you. You’re not just my mate. You’re my reason. My anchor. The thing that makes eternity feel possible instead of endless.”
Continue reading →The first time I saw you, you were arguing with your hair in the rear view mirror. I thought: there’s someone who fights back.
I stared at the letter in my hands, reading Jasper’s careful handwriting through tears I couldn’t stop. Edward had left me feeling broken and unworthy, but these words… these words suggested someone had been watching, seeing strength where I’d only felt failure.
You never needed protecting. You needed someone to believe you could protect yourself.
For the first time in months, I felt like I could breathe. Someone had been listening all along.
The storm had stolen their power, but not their light. Gathered in a circle of flickering candles, the Cullen family found themselves playing a simple game—one secret, one dare—that would change everything. Years of careful politeness dissolved as truths emerged from the shadows: Edward’s frustrations, Jasper’s hidden fears, Bella’s growing feelings. What began as a way to pass the stormy evening became something deeper—a night when walls crumbled and hearts opened. Between confessions and laughter, between honesty and acceptance, old bonds were tested and new love was born. Some nights, when the power goes out, you discover what truly lights up your world.
Continue reading →The first firework screamed into the sky, but I didn’t watch the burst of color overhead. I watched Bella—yellow sundress bright as sunlight, face lit with wonder and defiance, finally alive and unafraid. Edward’s possessive shadow lingered, but she didn’t flinch; she chose to meet my gaze instead, something real and electric sparking between us. When I reached her side, the world narrowed to her heartbeat and the fierce hope in her eyes. “It ain’t the sky I’m here for,” I murmured. She smiled, breathless, as the fireworks exploded. This was the moment we stopped pretending and started living.
Continue reading →Bella curled into the porch swing, lemonade sweating in her hand, the hum of cicadas and scent of jasmine wrapping around her like a lullaby. Rosalie leaned on the railing, golden hair caught in the breeze, while Jasper watched from the shadows, still and steady. For the first time in months, Bella wasn’t bracing for the next demand, the next correction. Here, under the soft Southern sun, she wasn’t broken or fragile—she was becoming. She didn’t have to speak for them to understand. The quiet between them said everything: You’re safe. You’re seen. You’re free. And maybe, finally, she believed it.
Continue reading →The note smelled like pine and leather:
Midnight. Swimsuit. Quiet. —J
Forks was hushed at night, mist coiling between the trees. Jasper waited by the Jeep, barefoot, moonlight touching his pale skin. He looked at her like she was the beginning of something.
They swam in a hidden lake no map could find, floating in silver water and silence. “I feel everything,” he confessed. “Too much.”
Bella drifted closer. “Do you feel what I’m feeling now?”
He nodded. “Yeah.”
Then she kissed him—weightless, barefoot, brave. And everything changed.
Jasper Whitlock stood beside Bella on the sunlit deck, his hand resting lightly on the small of her back. To the world, they were a wealthy American couple disembarking for leisure in Monaco. In truth, they were spies, their Louis Vuitton luggage concealing weapons, comms gear, and secrets. Bella smiled with effortless grace, accepting a tourist map from a weathered man by the kiosk—a courier, code embedded in the ink. “Merci,” she said sweetly. Jasper scanned the harbor, already cataloging threats. Behind the charm of luxury, Monaco bristled with predators. And one of them, he was sure, was watching Bella.
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