“He anxiously touched his hair. "I think my hair gel's frozen.”

“We need to get inside. I think my hair gel’s frozen.”

“I know your character. I know you're going to be a great guardian.”His confidence made that warm feeling return. "I'm glad someone does. Everyone else thinks I'm totally irresponsible.”"With the way you worry more about Lissa than yourself…" He shook his head. "No. You understand your responsibilities better than guardians twice your age. You'll do what you have to do to succeed.”I thought about that. "I don't know if I can do everything I have to do.”He did that cool one-eyebrow thing."I don't want to cut my hair," I explained.He looked puzzled. "You don't have to cut your hair. It's not required.”"All the other guardian women do. They show off their tattoos.”Unexpectedly, he released my hands and leaned forward. Slowly, he reached out and held a lock of my hair, twisting it around one finger thoughtfully. I froze, and for a moment, there was nothing going on in the world except him touching my hair. He let my hair go, looking a little surprised—andembarrassed—at what he'd done."Don't cut it," he said gruffly.Somehow, I remembered how to talk again. "But no one'll see my tattoos if I don't.”He moved toward the doorway, a small smile playing over his lips. "Wear it up.”

“Then, as one hand tightened on me and his other ran gently over my hair, I noticed something. He didn't smell right.”

“I'm glad you're better," he said. His mouth sounded like it was almost in my hair, just above my my ear. "When I saw you fall...""You thought, 'Wow, she's a loser.”

“I can’t have it either. It affects the babies in utero.”“Nonsense,” he said, tossing his long auburn hair over one shoulder. Life would be easier if he wasn’t so damned good-looking. “Why, my mother drank wine every day, and I turned out just fine.”“I think you’re proving my point for me,” I said dryly”

“Don't do that!" she exclaimed, shivering at the realization that it had been his fingers touching her.He gave her his lazy, slightly twisted smile and brushed a few pieces of unruly black hair out of his face."Are you asking me or ordering me?”"Shut up." She glanced around, both to avoid his eyes and make sure no one saw them together."What's the matter? Worried about what your slaves'll think if they see you talking to me?”"They're my friends," she retorted."Oh.Right. Of course they are. I mean, from what I saw, Camille would probably do anything for you, right? Friends till the end." He crossed his arms over his chest, and in spite of her anger, she couldn't help but notice how the silvery gray of his shirt set off his black hair and blue eyes.(Lissa&Christian)”