Maya

“On impulse he might die for her, but living for her would be quite different. He has no talent for monotony.”
― Margaret Atwood, The Blind Assassin

“What are you so afraid will happen? Afraid you might start to like me?”
He said nothing.
Despite her fatigue, she trotted ahead of him. “That’s it, isn’t it? You don’t want to like a Grisha. You’re scared that if you laugh at my jokes or answer my questions, you might start thinking I’m human. Would that be so terrible?”
“I do like you.”
“What was that?”
“I do like you,” he said angrily.
She’d beamed, feeling a well of pleasure erupt through her. “Now, really, is that so bad?”
“Yes!” he roared.
“Why?”
“Because you’re horrible. You’re loud and lewd and . . . treacherous. Brum warned us that Grisha could be charming.”
“Oh, I see. I’m the wicked Grisha seductress. I have beguiled you with my Grisha wiles!”
She poked him in the chest.
“Stop that.”
“No. I’m beguiling you.”
“Quit it.”
She danced around him in the snow, poking his chest, his stomach, his side. “Goodness! You’re very solid. This is strenuous work.” He started to laugh. “It’s working! The beguiling has begun. The Fjerdan has fallen. You are powerless to resist me.”
― Leigh Bardugo, Six of Crows