My homework was done — the product of a slow social life.
About three things I was absolutely positive:
First, Edward was a vampire.
Second, there was a part of him-and I didn't know how dominant that part might be-that thirsted for my blood.
And third, I was unconditionally and irrevocably in love with him.
— How old are you?
— Seventeen.
— How long have you been seventeen?
— A while…
Surely it was a good way to die, in the place of someone else, someone I loved. Noble, even. That ought to count for something.
I'm the world's best predator, aren't I? Everything about me invites you in — my voice, my face, even my smell. As if I need any of that!
I said softly:
— It doesn't matter to me what you are. A hard, mocking edge entered his voice.
— You don't care if I'm a monster? If I'm not human!
— No.
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