If she were disturbed by it, she thinks, she would be no different from any other dull, unimaginative girl. She fancies herself different: smarter than the rest, more daring, cutting edge, a revelation even while balancing along the tethers of tradition. It is something she believes in with a shocking confidence, and also something that must all the same be half a lie – if she were so convinced of it, after all, would she need to dive into something that anyone else would readily declare unsafe?

"A little blood does not scare me." His smile, on the other hand, does send a chill down her spine, but it's more of pleasure than fear. He does not scare her, not truly, not so much as he tastes of something forbidden and exhilarating, and certainly not enough to have her rethink her idea of proving her maturity to him. There is something especially delightful about the idea of testing such boundaries while their public image would likely need to remain as pristine as can be. It's ever appealed to her, to carry out her affairs in secret, to mock every fool who thinks her pure in the arms of a lover she should not have in this way.

Her fingers edge beneath his shirt now, eager to feel more of him. "Why don't you show me to your bedroom?"