His lips. My throat.
His thirst. My terror.
I tremble as he growls, his stony hands gripping my fleshy hips enough to bruise viciously. He lusts after my blood though he tempers his desire, fighting tooth and nail with his control.
He's losing.
An embarrassing whimper escapes from my dry windpipe, cracking quietly, but filling the air around us with my resignation. He senses this; I sigh. My eyes open wide, searching, wishing they would find Edward.
But he's not here. Only us.
"I'm so sorry, Bella," he whispers, and my eyes close.
"I know you are, Jasper."
He succumbs.
