You said you were going for a walk!? What kind of walk takes six hours?" "A long one?
Cassandra ClareDon't panic, but we've got an audience." Clary turned her head. Perched on a nearby tree branch was Hugo, watching them beadily from bright black eyes. So the sound she'd heard had been wings rather than demented passion. That was disappointing.
Cassandra ClareIt's too late," she said. "Don't say that." His voice was half a whisper. "I love you, Tessa. I love you.
Cassandra Clare