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…

Bella Swan wakes up naked, glitter-covered, and definitely not alone. Her thighs are bare, her dignity is missing, and Jasper Whitlock—smirking, naked, and far too pleased with himself—is sprawled beside her like a Calvin Klein ad gone rogue. Oh, and there’s a wedding ring on her finger. Her left hand. A very real, very silver wedding ring. “Mornin’, Mrs. Whitlock,” he drawls with that honey-thick accent that does terrible things to her pulse. Cue the chaos: a highlight reel, a bite mark, and…

Bella turned wide eyes on him. “The cat just… talked.” She said it with the same tone someone might use to announce they’d just seen Elvis riding a unicorn through the Walmart parking lot. Jasper’s hand froze halfway to his mug. “What now?” For once, the empath looked genuinely surprised. “About time your aura opened up,” the cat said. “Took me three visits and a moon cycle just to get through that human static. You’re broadcasting on all frequencies but receiving on none. Typical.” “Okay,” Bella…

Jasper Whitlock stood on the edge of the Montana wilderness, dusk casting bruised purples across the sky, a match trembling between his fingers. The fire he’d prepared was meant to end it all—gasoline, dry timber, the cleansing agony of flame. But as he struck the match, the wind shifted. A cold breeze, unnatural in its silence, swept through the clearing and extinguished the flame before it could burn. Then he saw it. A single cream-colored envelope resting on the stone beside his belongings—one…

The night air in Forks was thick with firelight and mischief. Bella sat near the bonfire, whiskey burning her throat, laughter ringing around her like sparks on the wind. Across the flames, Jasper Whitlock leaned back—shirtless under a leather jacket, golden eyes watching her like a dare. “Truth or dare?” Emmett asked, grinning. Bella blinked, heart racing. “Dare.” Jasper’s slow, dangerous smirk was a promise. “Then come here, darlin’, and whisper the dirtiest thing you’ve ever thought about me.” She did. And when…