Nusejka

“Death watched me, amusement once again lifting to his dark eyes. Unlike me with my bedraggled clothes and knotted hair, he looked good in the morning light streaming into my apartment. Okay, actually, he looked exactly the same as when I’d first seen him when I was five years old, but recently I’d come to appreciate the way his black T-shirt pulled tight over the expanse of his shoulders and his faded jeans hugged his ass. Not that I was looking, of course. I mean, he was Death.”
― Kalayna Price, Grave Dance

“I… What are you saying, Zsadist?" she stammered, even though she'd heard every word.

He glanced back down at the pencil in his hand and then turned to the table. Flipping the spiral notebook to a new page, he bent way over and labored on top of the paper for quite a while. Then he ripped the sheet free.

His hand was shaking as he held it out. "It's messy."

Bella took the paper. In a child's uneven block letters there were three words: I LOVE YOU

Her lips flattened tight as her eyes stung. The handwriting got wavy and then disappeared.
 
"Maybe you can't read it," he said in a small voice. "I can do it over."
 
She shook her head. "I can read it just fine. It's… beautiful."

"I don't expect anything back. I mean… I know that you don't… feel that for me anymore. But I wanted you to know. It's important that you knew.”
― J.R. Ward, Lover Awakened

“Carving?"
"Your name. My back. I can't fucking wait."
Jane whistled under her breath. "Do I get to do it?"
He barked a laugh. "No!"
"Come on. I'm a surgeon, I'm good with knives.”
― J.R. Ward, Lover Unbound

“One day, kid, you'll be willing to mortgage your fucking soul for somebody.”

“I don't think you should say fucking around me. In case you forgot, I'm only fourteen, And news flash, dude,I've got no soul. There aren't any banks. And there isn't any currency. Ergo. Never. Going. To. Happen.”

“I'm not sure you could be any more full of yourself.”

I cut him a smug look. “I'm willing to try.”
― Karen Marie Moning, Iced