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“How old are you?” “Seventeen,” he answered promptly. “And how long have you been seventeen?” His lips twitched as he stared at the road. “A while,” he admitted at last.
About three things I was absolutely positive. First, Edward was a vampire. Second, there was part of him—and I didn’t know how potent that part might be—that thirsted for my blood. And third, I was unconditionally and irrevocably in love with him.
“It’s twilight,” Edward murmured,
“So what you’re saying is, I’m your brand of heroin?” I teased, trying to lighten the mood. He smiled swiftly, seeming to appreciate my effort. “Yes, you are exactly my brand of heroin.”
“And so the lion fell in love with the lamb…,”
“What a stupid lamb,”
“What a sick, masochis...
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