Leslie Vargas

“The cord pulled taut and she rebounded, flying back up before falling again. As her velocity slowed, she opened her eyes and found herself dangling at the end of the cord, about five feet above Jace. He was grinning.
"Nice," he said. "As graceful as a falling snowflake."
"Was I screaming?" She asked, genuinely curious. "You know, on the way down."
He nodded. "Thankfully no one's home, or they would have assumed I was murdering you."
"Ha. You can't even reach me." She kicked out a leg and spun lazily in midair.
Jace's eyes glinted. "Want to bet?"
Clary knew that expression. "No," she said quickly. "Whatever you're going to do-"
But he'd already done it. When Jace moved fast, his individual movements were almost invisible. She saw his hand go to his belt, and then something flashed in the air. She heard the sound of parting fabric as the cord above her head was sheared through. Released, she fell freely, too surprised to scream- directly into Jace's arms. The force knocked him backward, and they sprawled together onto one of the padded floor mats, Clary on top of him. He grinned up at her.
"Now," he said, "that was much better. You didn't scream at all."
"I didn't get the chance." She was breathless, and not just from the impact of the fall. Being sprawled on top of Jace, feeling his body against hers, made her hands shake and her heart beat faster.”
― Cassandra Clare, City of Glass

“I've got the Mark of Cain," said Simon. "That means nothing can kill me, right?"
"You can kill yourself," Magnus said, somewhat unhelpfully. "As far as I know, inanimate objects can accidentally kill you. So if you were planning on teaching yourself the lambada on a greased platform over a pit full of knives, I wouldn't."
"There goes my Saturday.”
― Cassandra Clare, City of Lost Souls

“No one blames her."
"That never matters," said Alec. "Not when you blame yourself.”
― Cassandra Clare, City of Lost Souls

“I love you, Clary," he said without looking at her. He was staring out into the church, at the row of lighted candles, their fold reflected in his eyes. "More than I ever--" He broke off. "God. More than I probably should. You know that, don't you?”
― Cassandra Clare, City of Fallen Angels