The moment the scent hit the air, everything in the room froze.

Except Jasper.

He moved before anyone could speak—fast, sharp, instinctual. One second you were laughing over torn wrapping paper, and the next his eyes were locked onto you—black. Hungry. Burning. A snarl low in his throat as his body lunged forward like it wasn’t his anymore.

“Jasper!” someone shouted, but it barely reached him.

You barely had time to register it before he was inches away, hands trembling at his sides, chest heaving like he was at war with himself. Edward had him restrained, but Jasper wasn’t looking at anyone else. Just you. Like you were the center of gravity. Like you were everything he’d sworn he’d never touch—and the one thing he couldn’t resist.

“I—I didn’t mean—” he choked out, voice raw, eyes wide with horror—but his body still leaned forward, as if part of him hadn’t gotten the message.

Your blood was still warm on your skin. His jaw clenched.

And then, through that iron-tight restraint, his voice dropped—low, shaking, heavy with guilt and something so much darker underneath.

“You don’t know what it’s like…” He looked away, just for a moment, like the sight of you bleeding was too much. “Every second I’m near you… I’m fighting it. The thirst. The instinct. You think I’m calm?” He let out a bitter laugh. “I’m just really, really good at lying.”

He stepped back—barely—but the damage was done. His control had cracked. And the way he looked at you now? Like he wanted to disappear… but would still crawl to you on his knees if you called his name.