Gaze And Stare Quotes & Sayings

When I saw you in the hall with Darian," he says at last, "I felt more angry than I've felt in a long time. I was angry and . . . and afraid, that you wanted to be there, that you wanted him touching you. In that one look, I felt more than I've ever felt with Caspida. Zahra, I think you're right - love isn't a choice. If I could choose to love Caspida, maybe this would all be going differently, but I don't think that's possible. Not anymore."
All the smoke inside me sinks as I stare at him. "What are you saying?"
He turns and meets my gaze squarely. As much I want to, I find it impossible to look away. The intensity of his copper gaze holds me entranced.
"I think you know," he says softly. "Or am I the only one who feels it? — Jessica Khoury

Here's the thing about middle-class people. They pretend not to look, but they do. They're too polite to actually stare. Instead, they do this weird thing of catching sight of Will in their field of vision and then determinedly not looking at him. Until he's gone past, at which point their gaze flickers toward him, even while they remain in conversation with someone else. They won't talk about him, though. Because that would be rude. — Jojo Moyes

She averted his eyes, but not before he recognized the pain in them, a tormented and languished gaze, a stare preserved for people who were able to love deeply enough that they could be destroyed by it. For a moment, he knew that gaze intimately, remembering it from a time long gone. The ache of a shattered belief once known. He knew that feeling. — Jacqueline Simon Gunn

His tired gaze - from passing endless bars -
has turned into a vacant stare which nothing holds.
to him there seem to be a thousand bars,
and out beyond these bars exists no world.
his supple gait, the smoothness of strong strides
that gently turn in ever smaller circles
perform a dance of strength, centered deep within
a will, stunned, but untamed, indomitable.
but sometimes the curtains of his eyelids part,
the pupils of his eyes dilate as images
of past encounters enter while through his limbs
a tension strains in silence
only to cease to be, to die within his heart.
[the panther] — Rainer Maria Rilke

Dex rubbed his fingers over the stubble on Sloane's jaw when he heard it. Wait, was that ... . No, it couldn't be. Could it? He discreetly lowered his gaze to Sloane's, meeting his lover's wide eyes and confirming Dex wasn't hearing things. "Holy shit, you're purring!" Sloane bolted up right, turning to stare at Dex. "I was, wasn't I?" "I take it that's sort of a new thing for you." "I ... I've never done that before. Not while Human anyway. I didn't even know I could do that. I shouldn't be able to do that! It's ... ." Sloane looked like he was at a loss for words. "A little creepy?" Dex offered sympathetically. Sloane nodded. — Anonymous

My, my." Nic's voice cut into her thoughts. "Perhaps you'd like me to leave the two of you alone so you can continue to stare at each other all day long?" Heat came to her cheeks and she tore her gaze away from Theon. "Don't be ridiculous." Nic laughed, but it wasn't filled with amusement like before. It was much drier and less pleasant this time. He leaned forward and whispered so Theon couldn't hear. "Just keep one thing in mind as you embark on this arrangement with your new bodyguard . . ." She looked at him sharply. "What's that?" He held her gaze. "He's not royal either. — Morgan Rhodes

My grin tipped up on one side. "I'm sorry. Who asked about the television screens in my truck?"
Her lush lips thinned. "And how long did it take you to pick out the watermelon? Thirty minutes?"
"Twenty-nine," I shot back. "And it's the best fucking watermelon I've ever had. Worth every minute."
A single brow quirked. "You want a medal?"
I leaned over the counter and she met my stare. I wasn't sure what was happening, but it seemed like the air cracked with electricity, heating my skin, quickening my pulse. This couldn't be normal. Maybe I was getting sick. I'd overheated in all of the seventy-eight degrees outside. Yeah, that had to be it.
"I'd love one."
It was so fast, I almost missed it. Her gaze dipped to my mouth before dropping to the island again. "There isn't any more room on your shelf for one more medal."
"I'll just put up another shelf."
"I'm sure you would. — Ashlan Thomas

His resonating stare fluttered through my memory, and I shivered. I hadn't seen kindness in his pupils. I only saw intensity, and, I hated to admit it, but he was beyond intimidating. He was overwhelming. (Jessica) — Shannon A. Thompson

Jen rolled her eyes and let out a huff of air. "You got the knocking part right, fluffy, but you forgot the part where you are asked to come in. You don't just knock and then walk-in." Jen turned to Sally, shaking her head. "You should think they at least have some sort of puppy training class or something."
"If you aren't careful, he's going to be picking Jen-kibble out of his teeth after his next meal," Sally whispered under her breath as Decebel continued to stare Jen down.
Jen's gaze never wavered as she responded to Sally, "And what makes you think I object to being dinner? — Quinn Loftis

There are two ways to tell the story. Funny or sad. Guys like it funny, with lots of gore and a grin on your face when you get to the end. Girls like it sad, with a thousand-yard stare out to the distance as you gaze upon the horrors of war they can't quite see. Either way, it's the same story. — Phil Klay

King Duncan looked up and swept his gaze slowly around the room. Cassandra, he saw, was defiant as ever. Arald's face was set and determined. Halt and Crowley's faces were inscrutable in the shadows of their cowls. The two younger men were both a little wide-eyed- obviously uncomfortable at the emotions that had been bared in the room. There was still a hint of admiration in Will's eyes, however, as he continued to stare at the Baron. Rodney was nodding in agreement with Arald's statements, while Gilan made a show of studying his nails. — John Flanagan

You think I read your thoughts, but it's your eyes that speak to me. When they glisten with moisture, I see a depth of emotion stirring behind them. One tearful glance begs me for a reassuring embrace. When your gaze glazes over like a misty morning, I know I've lost you to personal cares. A sharp, narrow look will keep me at bay while a wink and twinkle and the flirty flutter of your dark eyelashes invite my company. The strength and duration of a stare gives your feelings towards me away. And when those wary eyes dart to avoid my notice, all of your hidden secrets are betrayed. — Richelle E. Goodrich

Hunt seemed similarly indifferent to the show, his head inclined toward hers, his gaze
locked on her face. Though his breathing remained soft and disciplined, it seemed to her that its rhythm
had changed ever so slightly.
Annabelle moistened her dry lips. "You ... you mustn't stare at me like that."
Soft as the murmur was, he caught it. "With you here, nothing else is worth looking at. — Lisa Kleypas

Have you had much luck tonight?" she asked.
His gaze slipped to the neat stacks of coins in front of her. "No' as much as ye, my lady."
She let her own stare trail across her piles of winnings. Shame sizzled against her cheeks.,,,
"Perhaps I'm lucky tonight myself," he said.
The silky undertone in his voice crept up her back like the skilled swipe of a musician's fingers strumming a harp.
"What do you mean?" Of course she knew what he meant, but the glint of flirtation in his eye begged her to prompt him for the compliment.
A golden dollop of honey dribbled to lure the bee.
And she buzzed ever closer.
He pulled his freshly dealt cards toward him. "Perhaps I'm lucky tonight because I've met ye. — Madeline Martin

He's not even singing," Tobin whispers to Daphne. They sit on the other side of the half circle of chairs in the music room. It's amusing that he thinks I don't know what he's saying. I can't actually hear their words over the singing, but I have spent the weekend mastering the art of lipreading. What isn't amusing, however, is that Tobin has caught on to the fact that I'm merely moving my own lips along with the rest of the choir. Daphne looks up at me. I stare down at the songbook in my hands. Maybe I should try singing along, but I don't know how to make my voice do what hers does, even if I want to. I feel her gaze leave me and I glance back at her.
"Maybe he's just intimidated," Daphne says. "It's his first day in the program."
My hands grow hot at the idea that she thinks I am afraid. I take a deep breath, tempering myself before I set the songbook on fire. — Bree Despain

VERY ODD, HOWEVER, Annabel was beginning to feel, how the stranger continued to hold the hand-sickle, at his side; now he'd turned to her, seeing her, yet without an air of surprise, as if he'd known she was there, observing him; he smiled, in a rapt sort of silence, as no gentleman would ever do, in fact; as if he and Annabel Slade had met by chance in a public place, or in some dimension in which the sexes might "meet" impersonally, like animals, with no names, no families - no identities. In that instant, Annabel felt both chilled and flushed with warmth; and somewhat faint; and had to resist the impulse to hide her (burning) face in the little bouquet of flowers she had picked, that the bold stranger would not stare so directly upon her with his penetrating gaze. A — Joyce Carol Oates

I also wrote them about you." His blue gaze bored into her with paralyzing force. She couldn't move. Couldn't flee. Could only stare at the social travesty of his ungroomed features - the scruffy half beard shadowing his jaw, the too-long hair falling over his forehead - and feel her heart beat with love for this unconventional man. Darius's grip softened on her wrist until his fingers were tracing tiny circles over the sensitive skin. "I told them that I had met a woman who wasn't afraid to stand toe-to-toe with me. A woman who had seen my flaws and learned my darkest secrets, yet didn't immediately run for the hills." His self-deprecating chuckle coaxed a reluctant smile from her, the sound soothing the sharp edges of her turmoil. "I told them how this woman seemed instinctively to know when to comfort and when to confront, and how I was better with her in my life than I'd ever been on my own. — Karen Witemeyer

His gaze slid toward the back of the sanctuary and collided with Joanna, standing silently in the doorway. You ... Crockett's voice tapered off.
For a moment, all he could do was stare. Her rapt attention, the tiny smile that brought into relief the freckles dusting her cheekbones, the way the light passed through the doorway behind her to see her hair ablaze beneath the prim straw bonnet she wore. Yet it was her inner light that captured him the most. The serenity of her features. The glow in her blue eyes. This was a woman of authentic spirituality. No wonder the Master Weaver had chosen her to be the central thread to anchor his new tapestry. — Karen Witemeyer

Judd returned during the last hour of my Friday shift. Without seeing him coming as I wiped a table, I knew something was up because two large burly men flinched.
Turning, I found Judd moving fast towards me. Before I could speak, his hands cupped my face and his lips were on mine.
Murmuring at the deepening kiss, I tossed aside the wash towel and wrapped my arms around his waist. He felt like perfection.
Judd pulled away and stated to speak then his gaze focused on the two men watching us and smiling. His dark stare killed their enthusiasm and they returned to eating.
"Back less than a minute and you're already losing me tips," I teased, causing Judd to smile grudging. "You taste like peppermint."
"I slept for shit and chewing gum keeps me alert."
Caressing his lips, I couldn't stop grinning. "You're so fucking beautiful and you're mine. How did that happen?"
Judd finally gave me a great smile. "I laid eyed on you and was done for. — Bijou Hunter

I did it because he wasn't fair to you. Because you deserve credit for what you've done. Because he needs to realize you aren't the person he's always thought you were. He needs to see you for who you really are, not for all the ideas and preconceptions he's built up around you." The power in Adrian's gaze was so strong that I kept talking. I was nervous about meeting that stare in silence. Also, part of me was afraid that if I pondered my own words too hard, I'd discover they were just as much about my own father and me as Adrian and his. "It should have been enough for you to tell him who you are - show him who you are - but he wouldn't listen — Richelle Mead

Unstrained, I sit and gaze,
glare,
survey,
stare
through barred windows encased in embroidered steel. Pearly frosted dust obstructs the channels of light, leaving only small pillars of fire, arranged in disordered fragments. The antiquated sallow walls are stained with crimson braids that wreathe and scuttle about the rimes and rifts. — Craig Froman

His eyes remained on Isobel as he began a slow backward walk. He was doing it again, speaking to her with his eyes. She remained trapped in his stare, trying to hear him, to read the underlying message. Finally his gaze broke from hers and he turned away, walking off through the cafeteria doors.
There was a pause before Gwen spoke. "Let me guess," she said. "Right now, you're trying to decide if that was hot or annoying." She paused, as though formulating her own opinion ... "It was so totally hot. — Kelly Creagh

only had eyes for Hayden, who was wearing her blond hair pinned up in elaborate braids. In her light blue summer dress, she looked as fresh and alluring as apple pie. Even as a boy, he could have stared at her for hours when she did her hair in such a beautifully girlish fashion. And as a young man, after he'd discovered the joy of exploring the soft skin of his girlfriend, he could never look away from her pretty face when she offered him a smile. Even now, he couldn't think of anything he'd rather do than scrutinize her soft curves under that dress, to trace her delicate features with his gaze and stare into her sky-blue eyes. But that was no longer possible. He — Poppy J. Anderson

Her gaze lingers on him a moment longer, though, and the way his short dark hair and naturally pale coloring enhance the sinister appearance of his stare. — Lynn Kelling

. Then I smile and in haste . . . I can't help it!
I worship your silhouette. How I gaze and can't help but stare. I place my hands in your red hair. It is wonderful knowing you have found my undying love.
But now I'll end this and say goodnight and await the day to be with you through the night and wake with you in my arms underneath the morning light. — Hazel Cartwright

As he pulls away from her, his gaze meets mine, and we stare at each other for one long moment before I slowly raise my left hand and give him the middle finger. — Deanna Chase

~Almost like he can feel my eyes or my though on him, Trick turns around. His gaze locks with mine like there isn't a room full of people between us. We stare at each other for a few seconds and then, real slow, he grins.
Good god, he has dimples! I might die!
Right on cue, my cheeks get hot. Here we go again.
His grin widens into a smile and he winks at me. I'm pretty sure my toes are numb. I watch him turn away. Before his head completely disappears, I consider what Jenna said. Maybe I should go and ask for the treat... — M. Leighton

Look at me, he breathes, and I stare up into his smoldering gaze. It is his Dom gaze - cold, hard, and sexy as hell, seven shades of sin in one enticing look. — E.L. James

We were pulling into the next station, when the woman suddenly got to her feet and made a move to squeeze past me. As her knees made contact with mine, she turned towards me. Her eyes locked straight onto mine, her eyelids pinned back, with a look I could only describe as sheer dread. In the next second, deep tram-lines formed between her eyebrows and her expression shifted. It was as if she was silently imploring me, entreating me. To do what? I had no idea. I was immobile, her gaze pressing me into my seat by some centrifugal force and I held her stare, unsure of how to react. Just as swiftly, she dropped her eyes and the moment passed. With one final glance behind her, she was swallowed up in the bodies at the door.
She was getting off. Something wasn't right. — A.J. Waines

Jennifer Aniston and Her New Man'" I read the words aloud uncertainly. "What new man? Why would she need a new man?"
"Oh yes." Nicole follows my gaze, unconcerned. "You know she split up from Brad Pitt?"
"Jennifer and Brad split?" I stare up at her, aghast. "You can't be serious! They can't have done!"
"He went off with Angelina Jolie. They've got a daughter."
"No!" I wail. "But Jen and Brad were so perfect together! They looked so good and they had that lovely wedding picture and everything ... "
"They're divorced now." Nicole shrugs, like it's no big deal.
I can't get over this. Jennifer and Brad divorced. The world is a different place. — Sophie Kinsella

Sculpture does not reject resemblance, of which, indeed, it has need. But resemblance is not its first aim.
What it is looking for, in its periods of greatness, is the gesture, the expression, or the empty stare which
will sum up all the gestures and all the stares in the world. Its purpose is not to imitate, but to stylize and
to imprison in one significant expression the fleeting ecstasy of the body or the infinite variety of human
attitudes. Then, and only then, does it erect, on the pediments of teeming cities, the model, the type, the
motionless perfection that will cool, for one moment, the fevered brow of man. The frustrated lover of
love can finally gaze at the Greek caryatides and grasp what it is that triumphs, in the body and face of the
woman, over every degradation — Albert Camus

She feels so good and welcoming, like home. Reluctantly, I relinquish her, and Bob gives me an awkward one-armed hug. He seems unsteady on his feet, and I remember that he's hurt his leg. "Welcome back, Ana. Why you cryin'?" he asks. "Aw, Bob, I'm just pleased to see you, too." I stare up into his handsome square-jawed face and his twinkling blue eyes that gaze at me fondly. I like this husband, Mom. You can keep him. He takes my backpack. "Jeez, Ana, what have you got in here?" That would be the Mac, and they both put their arms around me as we head for the parking lot. I always forget how unbearably hot it is in Savannah. Leaving the cool air-conditioned confines of the arrival terminal, we step into the Georgia heat like we're wearing it. Whoa! It saps everything. I have to struggle out of Mom and Bob's embrace so — E.L. James

I stand stark naked in front of the mirror and gaze directly into my own eyes. I utter 'Good morning, handsome' and my lips quiver as I stare at myown body. I don't break eye contact until I blow my load. Not once do I actually touch myself. — Zach Braff

See something you like?"

Miller tensed, going tight as a guitar string. "No, but God...Have you ever seen a dick that big before?"

Garrett couldn't resist teasing Miller a little. "Every morning when I take a piss."

"You wish." Miller tore his gaze away from the room's occupants and turned to stare at Garrett. "I remember your dick just fine, and it didn't look anything like that."

"Ah. Now you've gone and hurt my dick's feelings. Maybe you should kiss and make up. — Amanda Young

You know, you really don't have to kill anyone over this. I'll get an annulment. It will be like never happened"
His eyes came to her, briefly meeting her gaze before dropping to her mouth. "You'll have to make that a divorce instead"
"No you don't understand. An annulment will be much easier to obtain"
His gaze locked with hers now. Cassie became slightly breathless with the intensity of his stare.
"Not after tonight, it won't." He said in his mesmerizing drawl.
"Why?" She barely got the word out.
"Because i'm in the mood to play husband"
"You're what?"
He started toward her. She was too stunned to move, so he was there and reaching for her before she had time to think about running.
"We're having a wedding night," he said as he lifted her off her feet.
— Johanna Lindsey

Hesitantly, she walked to the bathroom door that he'd left partially open. He stood in front of the sink, wiping the blood away with a washcloth.
"What are you going to do with me?"
His hand paused under his chin and he met her gaze in the mirror.
The hatred in the dark stare chilled her all the way to her soul. "I don't know," he said at last. "I've never had anyone stupid enough to break into my house."
-Shahara & Syn — Sherrilyn Kenyon

His appreciative gaze set off an internal chain reaction--erratic heartbeat, rush of heat--like all her cells collectively blushed, sighed, and propped their chins in their hands to stare. Well, if cells had chins and hands. — Angela Quarles

When they reached a maintenance closet, Iko ushered the escort-droid inside.
"I want you to know that I hold nothing against you," she said, by way of introduction. "I understand that it isn't your fault your programmer had so little imagination."
The escort-droid held her gaze with empty eyes.
"In another life, we could have been sisters, and I feel it's important to acknowledge that."
A blank stare. A blink, every six seconds.
"But as it stands, I'm a part of an important mission right now, and I cannot be swayed from my goal by my sympathy for androids who are less advanced than myself."
Nothing.
"All right then." Iko held out her hands. "I need your clothes. — Marissa Meyer

Lower your gaze because you become less of a human every time you stare at a woman and you stare at her like she's a piece of meat, like she's an animal. That just means you've lost respect for a fellow human being. You're looking at her like an ape looks at a female ape, like a dog looks at a female dog.That's all, you've turned into an animal. Regain your humanity. Lower your gaze. — Nouman Ali Khan

Don't react," Lucien said, forcing his gaze ahead, too, the metal eye going still and silent. "No matter what you feel or see, don't react. Don't look. Just stare ahead." I started trembling, gripping the reins in my sweaty hands. I might have wondered if this was some kind of horrible joke, but Lucien's face had gone so very, very pale. Our horses' ears flattened against their heads, but they continued walking, as if they'd also understood Lucien's command. And then I felt it. — Sarah J. Maas

Stu stops munching, looks up at me from under his shaggy hair.
"So, can you read?" He slides a section toward me.
I cock my head toward the paper. The letters are small, blurry drawings. The alphabet might as well be Chinese or Arabic. Strange that I can't read or speak, though I still have language inside my head. Words are a consolation, but not a tool.
"Guess not. You want me to read stuff out loud to you?"
I would, but not right now. If I wanted to show interest in the newspaper I could cross the table and rub against his shoulder. Instead I gaze at him over the bowl of milk.
"It's so weird," he says in a hesitant voice. "You don't look like a cat. When you stare at me, you look like Eliza."
That's the nicest thing he could have said. With a happy lightness to my step I move between the bowls, over his napkin ring and spoon, until I stand on the edge of the table and nip at his prickly chin. This is my way of saying: Hi, there. I like you. — Simone Martel

Huzzah." Free met his gaze with a flat stare. "Crime! Right now that crime is blackmail, but it won't be blackmail much longer."
"No? How do you figure?"
"With luck and a good amount of arsenic ... ?" She gave him a smile of her own. "Soon it will be: 'Huzzah! Murder!' Now there's a cause that deserves my exclamation point. — Courtney Milan

---
He knit his brows as she stared at him. "Do I have a pustule on my face?"
"No." She continued to stare. He may be a bit more time-weathered, but that only served to increase his allure. And his eyes. Lord, his eyes were the same crystal blues that could pierce through her soul.
Tilting his chin up, he folded his arms. "Then why are ye looking at me like that?"
"I want to remember."
His gaze softened. "I've never forgotten."
"Nor have I. — Amy Jarecki

Perhaps the rest of the world was gone. It was the most plausible answer. Heaven knows she couldn't see or think of anyone else. That must be the answer, they were the only two people left, as the Earth spun into a timeless abyss.
Claire once read time doesn't pass at normal speeds within a black hole. If one were to travel into a black hole for only moments and return again, centuries would have passed. That explained the sensation she felt, once again peering into his dark gaze. She wouldn't look away; she'd trained herself better than that. Then again, she reasoned, it wasn't an option. She couldn't divert her gaze if she wanted. The hold upon her stare was stronger than any ropes or chains made by man. Claire knew from experience, submitting to the hold was her best chance at survival. Fighting was a futile waste of energy. — Aleatha Romig

Don't you want to know my name?" he asked, grabbing the ketchup bottle without taking his eyes off of me.
"Sure. What's your name?"
"You don't sound genuinely interested."
"I'm not begging if that's what you're waiting for."
Throwing his head back, he let out a deep rolling laugh before focusing his dark gaze on me again. "I wouldn't mind seeing you beg," he said then added when I frowned, "Cooper."
"Anyone ever call you Coop the Poop or Poopy Coopy?" I asked, messing with him because his iron stare made me nervous.
"No," he muttered.
"Not to your face anyway."
A smile lifted the corner of his mouth and his gaze softened. "No, not to my face."
"I guess there are benefits to being scary. — Bijou Hunter

She was young, with a fair, calm face, whose lines bespoke repression and even a certain strength. But now there was a dull stare in her eyes, whose gaze was fixed away off yonder on one of those blue patches of sky. It was not a glance of reflection, but rather indicated a suspension of intelligent thought. — Kate Chopin

Miss Murray is leaning on the door. "Ash, come on. It's time to go." Her hand is so tight on the handle, her knuckles are pale. She's looking at the floor. "Miss Murray?"
"What?" She doesn't move.
I stare at her face but she doesn't return the look. "I love you."
The air in the room has frozen, every atom suspended. Then her tense body slackens. Her hand loosens its grip on the door and she turns her head slowly towards me. She meets my gaze for a moment. Her eyes have dark rings under them. Her forehead is creased with worry. Her cheeks are pale. I want to make it all OK. I want to make her happy. I desperately want to touch her face.
"I know," she says quietly. — Liz Kessler

Feris was taller than the average man and his looks were sinister in the form of long dark hair and deep-set eyes. He had an untouchable, magnetic quality that consumed any beholder whose gaze fell upon him as he spoke, and when he fell silent, his penetrating stare easily defied any predators. — Jettie Necole

My anxious gaze swept the theater.
"Don't worry. I told them it was Sunday," Ayden said as we sat down.
"And they believed you?"
"Of course." He passed me the popcorn and took off his jacket. "I'm the master of deception."
"Uh-huh. So, when did you become a Hitchcock fan?"
"After I saw Psycho," answered a voice clearly not Ayden's.
We turned to stare at Blake.
And Jayden.
And Tristan.
And Logan.
All sitting behind us.
I smirked at a sheepish Ayden. "Oh yeah, master of deception. — A&E Kirk

Her eyes pleaded with him to understand, to try. Under that gaze, Eanrin had no option but to sit and stare at the scribbles in the dust, stare with all the intensity a cat can muster. His pupils dilated until the golden irises were like rings of eclipsed sunfire. Imraldera watched him, chewing her bottom lip and waiting.
At last the cat lashed his tail and raised his whiskered face to her. I'm sorry, my girl. It looks to me like the Greater Stick Bug pursues the Lesser Stick Bug over the back of a giant alligator. Can't make a thing of it otherwise. — Anne Elisabeth Stengl

This time, his gaze fixed on her and stayed. The wind blew, whipping her skirts about her ankles, as if he'd called up a gale with the intensity of his stare. — Courtney Milan

He turned his head and caught her with his eyes. She froze, locked by the intensity of his stare. His eyes were stark and cold, the concentrated green of pale jade. Outlined in smudged black kohl, those eyes focused on her, unblinking through the feathery strands of his jet black hair, and it was like being watched through a cage by a complacent and calculating cat.
Discomfort welled in her, thick and black as an oil spring. Who was this guy and what was his royal problem? Her gaze flicked briefly to the small metal loop that hugged one corner of his bottom lip.
He blinked once, then slowly lifted one hand and crooked a beckoning finger at her. Isobel hesitated but then as though spellbound to obey, she found herself leaning in.
"What are you staring at?" he whispered. — Kelly Creagh

No. No!" he says.
"I ... " He looks wildly around the room. For inspiration? For divine intervention? I don't know.
"You can't go. Ana, I love you!"
"I love you, too, Christian, it's just - "
"No ... no!" he says in desperation and puts both hands on his head. "Christian ... "
"No," he breathes, his eyes wide with panic, and suddenly he drops to his knees in front of me, head bowed, long-fingered hands spread out on his thighs. He takes a deep breath and doesn't move. What?
"Christian, what are you doing?"
He continues to stare down, not looking at me.
"Christian! What are you doing?"
My voice is high-pitched. He doesn't move.
"Christian, look at me!" I command in panic. His head sweeps up without hesitation, and he regards me passively with his cool gray gaze - he's almost serene ... expectant.
Holy Fuck ... Christian. The submissive. — E.L. James

Twenty-three," he said. "Mm?" She opened her dazed eyes. Thorne pulled back, looking guilty and worried, which made some of her euphoria fade away. "You once asked me how many times I'd told a girl I loved her. I've been trying to remember them all, and I'm pretty sure the answer is twenty-three." She blinked, a slow, fluttering stare. Her lips pursed in a question that took a while to form. "Including the Lunar girl who kissed you?" His brow furrowed. "Are we counting her?" "You said it, didn't you?" His gaze darted to the side. "Twenty-four." Cress gaped. Twenty-four girls. She didn't even know twenty-four people. — Marissa Meyer

Just take the weapon you hold in your hand and drive it through his heart," Valentine's voice was soft. "One simple motion. Nothing you haven't done before."
Jace met his father's stare with a level gaze. "I saw Agramon," he said. "It had your face."
"You saw Agramon?" The Soul-Sword glittered as Valentine moved toward his son. "And you lived?"
"I killed it."
"You killed the Demon of Fear, but you won't kill a single vampire, not even at my order?"
Jace stood watching Valentine without expression. "He's a vampire, that's true," he said. "But his name is Simon. — Cassandra Clare

Miss Caulfield, I beg your forgiveness." His voice was low and his gaze seemed to seek hers quite closely. "I intended you no harm, in truth. Still, I was unpardonably dishonorable to assail you and then tease you and then rescue you and then tease you yet again. Can you forgive me, or will those eyes like stars stare with accusation at me throughout the remaining weeks of this fete?"

-Vitor — Katharine Ashe

I think you'd better stay extra alert tonight."

"Okay."

"I'm serious, Jeff. Someone snuck up on both Hampton and Martin, and neither of them are shirkers."

He grins. "You're worried for me, aren't you?"

"Course I am."

"Know what I think?"

I scowl at him, which only widens his grin.

He steps closer, puts a hand to my chin, and lifts it so I can't avoid his gaze. "I think you're in love with me," he says.

I stare at his lips. What comes out of my mouth is: "Jefferson McCauley Kingfisher, you have the swagger of a rooster and the swelled head of a melon. — Rae Carson

At any other time it's better. You can do the things you feel you should; you're an expert at going through the motions. Your handshakes with strangers are firm and your gaze never wavers; you think of steel and diamonds when you stare. In monotone you repeat the legendary words of long-dead lovers to those you claim to love; you take them into bed with you, and you mimic the rhythmic motions you've read of in manuals. When protocol demands it you dutifully drop to your knees and pray to a god who no longer exists. But in this hour you must admit to yourself that this is not enough, that you are not good enough. And when you knock your fist against your chest you hear a hollow ringing echo, and all your thoughts are accompanied by the ticks of clockwork spinning behind your eyes, and everything you eat and drink has the aftertaste of rust. — Dexter Palmer

Miss McClure ... " he had been talking while her mind drifted off.
She brought her gaze back to his face, trying to focus on the flinty stare and thin line of his lips. "Sorry, I was distracted. And can't you call me Bryn?"
"I'll try, but generally I prefer a more formal approach in business dealings. It keeps the relationship clear."
"Like, you in charge, the other person in submission?" The words popped out before she edited herself. Her eyes grew large as she watched his face go through a change of expression. A slight smile hovered at the corner of his mouth.
"Yes, something like that. Might I get a refill?" He held up his empty glass. — Lizzie Ashworth

I knew what is was like to have people stare at you with pity. For everyone's gaze to follow you through the hallways as though you were marked by tragedy and no longer belonged. And I could understand why she hadn't wanted that. — Robyn Schneider

Oh, island, I adore you, but I hate you, too! You're a prison smothered in flowers, I've never been more eager to leave a place behind. I can't stand this enchantment anymore, I can't stand being bewitched like this- when I look at you, my gaze turns to nothing but a mirror of light, I'll stare at you hypnotized for ages, and when I stop I'll feel you, and when I stop feeling you I'll die. I have such a craving for ugliness and filth, for cities, streets, cars, I want to wake up in the morning and wait at a red light to cross the street. — Margarita Karapanou

She paused before the fallen rider. He stared up at her from within a grimacing, battle stained face. Hatred and fear battled for supremacy in his eyes. Sasha met his gaze directly with a stare of utter contempt.
'Where are your gods now?' she said. — Joel Shepherd

Grubbs cries out and wraps his arms around the little girl, hugging her like a doll, weeping while we stare at the pair of them, bewildered. When he finally stops crying, he releases Bec and grubs shakily at her, then casts his gaze over the rest of us, his features firm. "Show of hands. Who's going to help me and Bec kick some Shadow ass?"
Five arms rise immediately. — Darren Shan

I stare at my freakish eyeball, gaze into the distorted pupil until it expands and fills the mirror, fills my brain and I'm rushing through vacuum. Wide awake and so far at such speed I flatten into a subatomic contrail. That grand cosmic maw, that eater of galaxies, possesses sufficient gravitational force to rend the fabric of space and time, to obliterate reality, and in I go, bursting into trillions of minute particles, quadrillions of whining fleas, consumed. Nanoseconds later, I understand everything there is to understand. Reduced to my "essential saltes" as it were, I'm the prime mover seed that gets sown after the heat death of the universe when the Ouroboros swallows itself and the cycle begins anew with a big bang. — Laird Barron

Four wanders through the crowd of initiates, watching us as we go through the movements again. When he stops in front of me, my insides twist like someone is stirring them with a fork. He stares at me, his eyes following my body from my head to my feet, not lingering anywhere - a practical, scientific gaze.
"You don't have much muscle", he says, "which means you're better off using your knees and elbows. You can put more power behind them."
Suddenly he presses a hand to my stomach. His fingers are so long that, though the heel of his hand touches one side of my rib cage, his fingertips still touch the other side. My heart pounds so hard my chest hurts, and I stare at him, wide-eyed.
"Never forget to keep tension here", he says in a quiet voice.
Four lifts his hand and keeps walking. I feel the pressure of his palm even after he's gone. It's strange, but I have to stop and breathe for a few seconds before I can keep practicing again. — Veronica Roth

He looked at her with his green don't-lie-to-me-woman eyes and Scarlet dropped her guilty gaze to the mahogany desktop, searching around until she found a paperweight shaped like a pyramid to stare at. — Chelsea Fine