Shea

“He thought of Inej's hand on his cheek. His mind had gone jagged at the sensation, a riot of confusion. It had been terror and disgust and- in all of that clamour- desire, a wish that lingered still, the hope that she would touch him again.”
― Leigh Bardugo, Six of Crows

“I will have you without armor, Kaz Brekker. Or I will not have you at all.”
― Leigh Bardugo, Six of Crows

“What is this?" she asked, her eyes scanning the page. "It's not..." She ran her fingertips over the words as if expecting them to vanish. "My contract." She whispered.
"I don't want you beholden to Per Haskell. Or me." Another half-truth. His mind had concocted a hundred schemes to bind her to him, to keep her in this city. But she'd spent enough of her life caged by debts and obligations, and it would be better for them both when she was gone.
"How?" she said. "The money-"
"It's done." He'd liquidated every asset he had, used the last of the savings he'd accrued, every ill-gotten cent.
She pressed the envelope to her chest, above her heart. "I have no words to thank you for this."
"Surely the Suli have a thousand words for such an occasion?"
"Words have not been invented for such an occasion."
"If I end up on the gallows, you can say something nice over the corpse," he said.”
― Leigh Bardugo, Crooked Kingdom

“Cautiously, she let her knuckles brush against his, a slight weight, a bird's feather. He stiffened, but he didn't pull away.

"I'm not ready to give up on this city, Kaz. I think it's worth saving." I think you're worth saving.

Once they stood on the deck of a ship and she'd waited just like this. He had no spoken then and he did not speak now. Inej felt him slipping away, dragging under, caught in an undertow that would take him farther and farther from shore. She understood suffering and she knew it was a place she could not follow, not unless she wanted to drown, too.

Back on Black Veil, he'd told her that they would fight their way out. Knives drawn, guns blazing. Because that's what we do. She would fight for him, but she could not heal him. She would not waste her life trying.

She felt his knuckles slide against hers. Then his hand was in her hand, his palm was pressed against her own. A tremor moved through him. Slowly, he let their fingers entwine.

For a long while, they stood there, hands clasped, looking out at the gray expanse of sea.”
― Leigh Bardugo, Crooked Kingdom