Stavros Lantsias-Vals Of The Eyes

“My God, Sage. Your eyes. How have I never noticed them?”

That uncomfortable feeling was spreading over me again. “What about them?”

“The color,” he breathed. “When you stand in the light. They’re amazing… like molten gold. I could paint those…” He reached toward me but then pulled back. “They’re beautiful. You’re beautiful.”
― Richelle Mead

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