6
" She was a very pretty woman. She had dark red hair and her eyes -- her eyes are just like mine, Harry thought, edging a little closer to the glass. Bright green -- exactly the same shape, but then he noticed that she was crying; smiling, but crying at the same time. The tall, thin, black-haired man standing next to her put his arm around her. He wore glasses, and his hair was very untidy. It stuck up at the back, just like Harry's did.Harry was so close to the mirror now that his nose was nearly touching that of his reflection." Mum?" he whispered. " Dad?" They just looked at him, smiling. And slowly, Harry looked into the faces of the other people in the mirror and saw other pairs of green eyes like his, other noses like his, even a little old man who looked as though he had Harry's knobbly knees -- Harry was looking at his family, for the first time in his life.The Potters smiled and waved at Harry and he stared hungrily back at them, his hands pressed flat against the glass as though he was hoping to fall right through it and reach them. He had a powerful kind of ache inside of him, half joy, half terrible sadness. "
11
" Bree arched, trying to stretch out her muscles and Alessandro gave her a dirty look as if she was displaying herself to him on purpose. Well, maybe she was a little. Even though he blocked her from the hotel attendant’s gaze with his body in the doorway, Bree was sure to cover herself with the blanket. Alessandro turned around, pulling in the tray with him and his eyes flared hungrily as he looked down at her. “You look like a beautiful debauched angel,” he said, his voice rough with desire. “And you’re what, the demon that’s corrupted me?” Bree asked raising an eyebrow and letting the blanket fall down to her waist, baring her to him. “It’s my life’s work, you know?” Alessandro grinned, going down on to his knees and leaning over her. Bree placed a hand on his chest, halting him. “Is that coffee, I smell?” she asked. “The debauched angel is kind of hungry.” She bit her lip and smiled up at his frustrated face. "
― E. Jamie , The Betrayal (Blood Vows, #2)
13
" Et supper?" Foote asked." No, sir," Stoner answered.Mrs. Foote crooked an index finger at him and padded away, Stoner followed her through several rooms into a kitchen, where she motioned him to sit at a table. She put a pitcher of milk and several squares of cold cornbread before him. He sipped the milk, but his mouth, dry from excitement, would not take the bread.Foote came into the room and stood beside his wife. He was a small man, not more than five feet three inches, with a lean face and a sharp nose. His wife was four inches taller, and heavy; rimless spectacles hid her eyes, and her thin lips were tight. The two of them watched hungrily as he sipped his milk. " Feed and water the livestock, slop the pigs in the morning," Foote said rapidly.Stoner looked at him blankly. " What?" " That's what you do in the morning," Foote said, " before you leave for your school. Then in the evening you feed and slop again, gather the eggs, milk the cows. Chop firewood when you find time. Weekends, you help me with whatever I'm doing." " Yes, sir," Stoner said.Foote studied him for a moment. " College," he said and shook his head. "