Cassandra Clare - Tessa leaned forward and caught at his hand, pressing it...

Tessa leaned forward and caught at his hand, pressing it between her own. The touch was like white fire through his veins: he could not feel her skin, only the cloth of the gloves, and yet it did not matter. How you have kindled me, heap of ashes that I am, into fire. He had wondered once why love was always phrased in terms of burning: the conflagration in his own veins, now, gave the answer. You are good, Will, she said. There is no one better placed than I am to be able to say with perfect confidence how good you really are.