The Scarlet Veil (The Scarlet Veil, #1)

by Shelby Mahurin

If he doesn’t touch me soon, really touch me, I think I might die. “Michal, please, please—” I scrabble at his back, unable to stop, and at the hitch in my voice, he pulls back to watch me once more, fascinated. A sob tears from my throat. Though his eyes remain depthless and strange, he brings my wrist to his mouth, kissing it gently and murmuring, “Don’t cry, moje sunce. Never cry.” Even if I understood, I couldn’t answer him. I can’t speak. I can’t even remember my own name. Surging upward to kiss him, I crush his lips against mine, and his mouth is hot and cold all at once—and everywhere. He is everywhere. His hips push into mine, his teeth catch my bottom lip, and his hands cradle my face, my throat, my shoulders, trailing downward until I break away, writhing and gasping for breath. Something shifts in his eyes in response. With a low, possessive rumble in his chest—I feel it all the way to my toes—he buries his teeth in my throat.