The Scarlet Veil (The Scarlet Veil, #1)

by Shelby Mahurin

“This isn’t real,” I tell him. “We’re just pretending.” It felt like a dream. He tilts his head languorously to consider me. “Of course we are.” His thumb, however, brushes my bottom lip in the next second, parting it from the top and lingering there. Daring me, I realize, to make the next move. I should recoil from the challenge—that small, hateful voice in my head urges me to stop, stop, stop—but instead, I take his thumb into my mouth. If possible, his eyes darken further, and that same heady sense of power surges through me, washing away everything else. Without knowing why—without understanding the impulse at all—I suck gently, my tongue laving his skin with a confidence I shouldn’t feel. He tastes cold and sweet from the juice of the apple. I suck harder. “Easy,” he says through clenched teeth. Reluctantly, I release his thumb. “Why?” “Because”—he presses it hard against my bottom lip—“I’ve been imagining how you taste since I met you.” I swallow, and he tracks the movement hungrily. “I thought vampires didn’t like the taste of human blood.” “I think I’d like the taste of yours.” I certainly liked the taste of his.