And then he kisses me. Yes, the beautiful vampire, the dark general, the one who never gets close to anyone, leans in and presses his lips against mine. This kiss is soft. Gentle. Light. Like a butterfly’s wing whisking my lips.

Tell me, Eric,” he said, licking a droplet from the corner of his mouth. “Have you ever tasted blood?”       My mouth was so dry I could barely find the voice to answer him. “What an odd question...”       “But a valid one. Well, have you?”       “I’ve cut my lip before, so yes, I suppose I have tasted blood, but...”       “Not your own, you foolish boy.” He let out a short, derisive laugh and leaned in so that he was only a few inches from my face. “I mean the blood of another.”       “Good God, Stefan, of course not!”       “Pity...

She rounded on me with such ferocity that for a moment I didn’t recognize her. A flash of fangs, a dark gleam in her blacker-than-night eyes. It was the most vampiric I’d ever seen her.