Forks doesn't do welcome wagons-only fog that smells of cedar and iron, and a sky so low it presses the breath back into your lungs. My mother and I crossed the town line at dusk, two hybrids carrying California sun in our hair and a trunk full of secrets. She called it a "fresh start." I called it exile. I hated the rain at first. Then I learned to love it in secret-the hush that swallows footsteps, the woods that keep every scream they've ever heard. I wanted silence. Instead, I found Jasper: vampire, Civil War ghost, walking contradiction with a crooked smile sharp enough to split skin. One look, and the ground shifted beneath me. The hunger I'd kept caged for nineteen years rattled its bars. Now a storm older than my name coils beneath the evergreens. Loyalty tells me to protect the woman who lied to keep me alive. Survival tells me to stay away. Longing whispers I might not survive either choice. Because when he looks at me like I'm both threat and temptation, I realize the most dangerous monster in Forks might be the one staring back from the mirror. Bite me, if you dare-but don't expect either of us to walk away unscathed.
More details