Helen Smith

“Never mind undressing me with his eyes. He’s disassembling me. Atoms, molecules, every fiber and filament of my being stripped down, analyzed, assessed. I don’t know what he sees or what he thinks of it; there’s still no face under that hood. Forget all my previous bets about normal humanity lurking in the shadows. This man is a ghost.”
― Lex Veia, City of Shadows

“The grand tour of our tiny flat," Henry amends. "It's ours, though, so we're not complaining. Not everyone can live in posh brick houses with park-like gardens."
Ben frowns. "My house isn't that posh."
"It really is," Steve says. Traitor.
"A pool doesn't make a house posh."
Henry tilts his head, chin raised in challenge. "Five cars and a football pitch in the backyard do, though."
"It's a small practice pitch."
"It's a practice pitch in the backyard.”
― Zarah Detand, Pull Me Under

“My whole life is this wild stormy sea, and you’re the little bit of calm in the middle of the madness.”
― Lex Veia, City of Shadows