Renata

“You act young," he said, "because you are young. But you know things, Roza. Things people older than you don't even know. That day...." I knew instantly which day he referred to. The one up against the wall. "You were right, about how I fight to stay in control. No one else has ever figured that out- and it scared me. You scare me."
"Why? Don't you want anyone to know?"
He shrugged. "Whether they know that fact or not doesn't matter. What matters is that someone- that you- know me that well. When a person can see into your soul, it's hard. It forces you to be open. Vulnerable. It's much easier being with someone who's just more of a casual friend."
"Like Tasha."
"Tasha Ozera is an amazing woman. She's beautiful and she's brave. But she doesn't-"
"She doesn't get you," I finished.
He nodded. "I knew that. But I still wanted the relationship. I knew it would be easy and that she could take me away from you. I thought she could make me forget you."
I'd thought the same thing about Mason. "But she couldn't."
"Yes. And, so.....that's a problem.”
― Richelle Mead, Frostbite

“Dimitri's voice snapped my attention back to him. "That's Adrian Ivashkov." He said the name the same way everyone else did.
"Yeah, I know."
"This is the second time I've seen you with him."
"Yeah," I replied glibly. "We hang out sometimes."
Dimitri arched an eyebrow, then jerked his head back toward where we'd come from. "You hang out in his room a lot?"
Several retorts popped into my head, and then a golden one took precedence. "What happens between him and me is none of your business." I managed a tone very similar to the one he'd used on me when making a similar comment about him and Tasha.
"Actually, as long as you're at the Academy, what you do is my business."
"Not my personal life. You don't have any say in that.”
― Richelle Mead, Frostbite

“Abe swept in, resplendent in a gray and yellow suit that coordinated bafflingly well with Adrian's paint job.”
― Richelle Mead, Bloodlines

“He used to talk to me about Russia all the time and had sworn up and down that I'd love it here. "To you, it'd be like a fairy tale," he'd told me.
"Sorry, comrade. Borg and out-of-date music aren't part of any happy ending I've ever imagined."
"Borscht, not borg. And I've seen your appetite. If you were hungry enough, you'd eat it."
"So starvation's necessary for this fairy tale to work out?”
― Richelle Mead, Blood Promise