" I can’t even see your face.”
A strange chill still curled off of him like smoke and even though the glass garden was teeming with little lights, shades veiled him.
“Is that what you want?” he said. “Would it make you trust me?”
“It would be a start.”
“You are impossible to please.”
I said nothing. Amar leaned forward, and I felt the silken trails of his hood brush across my neck. My breath constricted. “Is that what you want? An unguarded gaze can spill a thousand secrets.”
“I would know them anyway,” I said evenly.
I waited for him to dissuade me, but when he remained silent, I reached out. Amar stood still, lean muscles tensed beneath his clothes. I could hear his breathing, see his chest rising and falling, smell that particular scent of mint and smoke that hung around him. Slowly, I untied the ends of the dove-gray hood. Small pearls snagged against the silk of his covering.
Suddenly, his hands reached around my wrist.
“I trust you,” he said.
The hood fell to the ground, a mere rustle of silk against glass. I lifted my gaze, searching Amar’s face. He was young, and yet there was something worn about his features.
I took in the stern line of his nose and the smooth expanse of tawny skin. His features possessed a lethal kind of elegance, like a predator at rest--bronzed jaw tapering to a knife’s point, lips curled in the faintest of grins and heavy brows casting dusky shadows over his eyes.
When I looked at him, something stirred inside me. It felt like recognition sifted through dreams; like the moment before waking--when sleep blurred the true world, when beasts with sharp teeth and beautiful, winged things flew along the edges of your mind.
Amar met my gaze and his eyes were raw. Burning.
“Well?” he asked. There was no rebuke in his voice, only curiosity.
“I see no secrets in your gaze,” I said. I see only night and smoke, dreams and glass, embers and wings. And I would not have you any other way. "

― Roshani Chokshi , The Star-Touched Queen (The Star-Touched Queen, #1)