Jasper Whitlock is a lot of things, vampire probably being the most obvious one. He's a man of few words, preferring to use actions over words. And oh boy did his actions speak louder. Actually, it's better to say that as of this moment, his actions were positively screaming.

Quite figuratively.

It was one thing to have a slip-up, a spur of the moment kind of thing if you will. A moment where you're just so hungry, kind of like when you haven't eaten in forever, and the second you smell food. You just lunge for it, and in your own crazy world, nothing else matters and anyone who gets in between you and your needs is a goner.

But.

It's a whole 'nother thing to say fuck it and jump off the cliff, head first into a red sea made of dismembered body parts. Could totally see it. Arms and legs ripped off, torso shredded into two, fingers and toes torn. Oh, and the best part? Heads ripped from their necks. Eyes closed, some opened, mouths twisted into screams that would never leave. Oh yeah, it's like your own little piece of Heaven - or Hell. However, you'd prefer to look at it.

And it's probably safe to say that's precisely what Jasper felt at this moment, pure satisfaction. The feeling of blood, human blood, running down his throat made the beast within him purr in pleasure.

When it came to feeding, nothing, nothing, felt better than this. . . . Okay, so maybe sex came in at number two. Unless he was feeding AND fucking some poor soul that happened to get ensnared within his trap.

Hold on. Scratch everything above.

Nothing felt better than being buried deep in some pitiful human - whether male or female - and when they've hit the height of their orgasm, to sink your teeth in and drink them dry. THAT was pure, unadulterated heaven.

Just thinking about it made Jasper moan, he'd done a lot in his one-hundred-and-sixty-five years as a vampire. Things he's not so proud of. Fucking and feeding off humans was something he indulged in quite often in his time with Maria. And even after until he met Alice. When he met her, everything he did was wrong, at least that's what she told him.

Was he proud of it? No.

Did he regret it? Hell no.

He spent a hundred and ten years feeding off humans, fifty with the Cullens and their animal diet. And it was hard to endure such a sudden diet switch, even if he's had fifty-five years to perfect it. His body craved it more than the rest of them. He knew the pleasure of sinking your teeth into the soft, warm flesh of a human, the taste of blood, and the high it brought.

To go from dining on the highest quality of blood -whenever the fuck you wanted- to something below dirt was a major shock.

And he hated it.

He longed for blood, REAL blood. Not that shit he forces himself to drink to please his wife. For a human, it's like eating something that's moldy and just so plain out disgusting that you literally want to throw up.

Carlisle and his "Everyone has a more preferred taste, Emmett enjoys Bears, Edward, Mountian lions...".

Blah blah blah.

If it smells like shit; tastes like shit, then guess what? It's fucking shit. Even if you try and 'pretty' it up. Shit is shit. Ain't no changing that.

And after fifty-five years of trying so very hard to stick to his diet, he just couldn't anymore. He couldn't deny that this is what he is, what he'll always be. He was a vampire back in 1863, and he's a vampire now, a hundred and sixty-five years later. He could no longer reject what his body wanted, what he wanted.

And that's how he finds himself after fifty-give years, feasting. And it is magnificent.

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟

One...two...three...four bodies later and he finds himself feeling more alive now than he has in a long time.

He stops for a moment to evaluate on just how he's feeling.

Is there guilt? Not quite.

He feels no remorse for killing his unfortunate victims. But he does feel a certain sense of shame, not for what he did, but for his family of fifty years.

He knows that he'll be hearing a truck full of shit for this.

Just like he knows that Alice knows what he just did. And if Alice knows, then Edward knows. And if Edward knows, then the rest of the family knows.

Not that he gives a flying fuck.

It's just a pain in his ass.

He debates with himself for a few seconds on whether or not he should call Peter. Because he knows, now that he's willingly fallen off the cliff, his so-called family will more than likely ask him to leave.

Y'know, for the guise of being 'human.'

Total bullshit.

A soft chime pulls him out of his musings, for half a second he thinks it's Alice. Surprisingly or perhaps not so surprising, because really that fucker just knows shit.

Don't worry, I got things sorted out on this end. Just head out to their place and deal with those rabbit munchers and that pixie of yours. See ya soon.

And really, he shouldn't be surprised that Peter just knows. Fucker always knows.

If he's honest, he really doesn't want to head home - a term he's using quite loosely - he should just leave for Louisiana now and save himself the headache that he can't get.

Don't be a pussy, getch' ass in gear Major.

He really should kill him.

Killin' me won't help ya. Now, don't let 'em reel you back into the munchies lair with the promises of pussy.

Yeah. He was going to kill him.

Ain't my fault ya got pussy whipped.

He knows if he were human his eye would probably twitch.

Not even going to grace him with a reply, Jasper puts his phone away. After making sure he disposed of the bodies, he turns and starts his run back, bracing himself for the shitstorm that's about to come.

His destination? The Cullen's house.