Do not ask me where this came from. It takes place before Jasper and Alice meet the Cullens, but if anything seems out of context, it tends to be Alice quoting from a vision. Yes, kids - like the magic of Disney, but with vampires.
I really enjoyed writing this piece, because it turned out so versatile. I dare you to read it twice: one way, it looks like fluff, and the other full throttle porn with clothes on. Imagine the whole thing in a Southern accent, if you will - the experience becomes explosive.
Hit From The Morning Sun
There she sits in her cherry red dress, swinging her legs and gazing out the window. She's beautiful like the sunrises I've never before taken the time to see, and she sings under her breath in a voice sweeter than honey; golden, glowing, pouring from her lips with the abundance of ripe corn, the clarity of clear water. The girl – the woman – before me is paler than virgin snow and purer than Sunday communion.
I want her.
I want to touch her.
I am a sick bastard and not the gentleman my mother raised me to be. I want her love, yes, but I also want her fingers in my hair, on my body, making me feel the way I want her to feel about me. I want her taste – Lord help me, her perfume – drowning me, suffocating me, turning me over and over and finally embedding itself into my flesh. I want every piece of her; every sunlight drenched, honey sweet inch of her skin touching mine, feeling me, and I want the way she moves and stretches and smiles like she's sleepy even though I know she can't truly be. I am a selfish, sick bastard, and I want her for my own.
I want to make her say my name.
I want to see her eyes shut.
"You're thinking," she says. "Too hard. I can hear your thoughts ticking round and round, water over a wheel."
"Can you see it?" I ask. My hands touch the glass of the window, point the way her eyes are pointing. "What will happen now?"
"There's a daughter," she replies dreamily. "A little girl – oh, she's beautiful. Takes after her Daddy, which is almost a shame, though he's a looker himself. Lies in the room with the pale blue walls and the lace curtains sometime in the future, I don't know when. We will meet her." Her promise is full, truer than the Bible. "Sometime. Somewhere." Rosy lips flicker like a pin-up girl's, and although her smiles do come easy, they are still a rare treat. "But you have something to say to me." So kittenish, so coy; a drop of imagined cream hanging from the tip of her pink tongue and haunting me, taunting me. "Something to ask?"
"I would ask that you do not move for the next few moments, unless you find yourself uncomfortable." I sit on the bed beside her, and the mattress beneath me feels like a battlefield.
"Why, Major –" She blinks as if I am infinitely surprising. "So serious. Do you fear that I may dislike your surprise?"
My throat is dry with the venom. It rises like a beast within my heart, but I am hungry for something so far removed from food that their spheres do not even touch. "I would never wish to disappoint you, ma'am."
"And we're back to this." She sighs. "I will do as you ask, but you must promise to call me by my first name afterward. This is no Texarkana, Jasper, and I'm glad." She moistens her lips with her tongue, her hunger as glistening and evident as mine, though she controls it better. "The North is different. It's colder, yes, but freer. The South may be your home and feel like home to the both of us, but we need this place – the bucks and the bears and the panthers and the cover of all these trees. We may look normal enough to pass scrutiny in this dive of a hotel, but when we shine?" Her fingers spread beside mine on the windowpane, slim white tapers in the gathering twilight. "The North is better, Jasper. I will do as you ask."
"If you do," I admit, suddenly terrified. "I will have no choice but to kiss you. Who knows what it could do to us both?"
Alice looks at me: a clear, a constant, a compass for a footsore traveller. "My bright eyed soldier," she says fondly. "I will follow you into the dark, and God forgive me, no love between us could be dark." Those candlelight fingers, flame in the shade, touch mine; she smiles. "I have loved you when I am with you and when I am without you. I have loved you standing tall or on my knees in pieces. I have loved you every single moment of every single day, and I loved you even when you feared me too much to love me in return."
I turn, take her face between my hands and cradle that daring, darling expression between my palms like a precious secret. "How could I fear an angel?" I ask sincerely.
Those eyes wax shaded and wicked, and her teeth flash like moonshine. "Walk like an angel," she murmurs. "Talk like an angel; the devil in disguise."