The knock came sharp and unexpected. Bella opened the door to find Jasper Whitlock on her porch, snow clinging to his jacket, amber eyes uncertain in the lamplight. “Sorry to bother you,” he said, his Southern accent warming the cold air. “My truck went off the road. Storm’s getting worse.” They stared at each other, both shocked to find a familiar face in this isolated place. “The roads are closed,” he said quietly. “Good thing I’ve got coffee,” Bella replied, stepping aside. Neither knew that Rosalie and Emmett’s…

“I dare you to kiss Jasper. Under the blood moon. Right now.” The words hung in the October air, impossible to take back. Bella looked at Jasper across the firelit meadow, her heart pounding. The crimson moon bathed everything in otherworldly light. “Your choice,” Jasper said quietly, his Southern drawl soft. “Always your choice.” She crossed the distance between them and kissed him. The world exploded in silver and gold light. Magic surged, binding them together as crescent moon marks appeared on their wrists. The bond formed,…

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…

His Dangerous Waltz – 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…

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…

“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…