Page 50 of A Tongue so Sweet and Deadly

A smirk slipped across his face when her eyes froze on his tanned, muscled chest, then trailed down the whisper of hair that led into his dark breeches. Heat crept up her cheeks when she forced them back up to his eyes.

Loche tilted his head, shifting his tousled hair out of his face. “Like what you see?”

She squashed the growl threatening to leave her throat.

This man…

Forcing herself to smirk back, she rested a hand on thecouch. “Just curious as to how you’re so tan in the deepest of winter.”

Loche started toward the door while keeping that searing gaze on hers. “I have many secrets, darling. And I’m not one to share.”

With a low sigh, Lessia bent down to check on the firewood she’d spread out across the floor. When she found it had mostly dried, she smiled to herself.

She’d have to get more.

But as long as she kept the fire going, the house would be lit the entire time.

A biting wind blew through the room when Loche opened the door to scoop up some snow in a broken bowl he’d snatched from the table, and Lessia shifted closer to the fire, keeping her hands hovering over the warmth until he closed it. As he walked up to set down the bowl by the crackling flames, she glanced at him, careful to keep her eyes on his face.

“Did you find firewood and kindling in one of your convenient hiding places?”

Loche shot her sideways stare. “Don’t play coy and pretend you didn’t use magic to light it. Although it’s certainly not allowed, none of us will spill your secret. We’ll all benefit from it.”

When her brows snapped together, his eyes swept over her face. “Ah. It wasn’t you.”

He searched her eyes, one of the corners of his mouth lifting. “But you do have magic.”

Keeping her face void of emotion, she pushed at a branch with her boot. “Not all half-Fae have magic.”

“Evading,” he mumbled to himself.

Lessia swallowed, wincing when the sound seemed to echo in the small room.

A smug smile crept across Loche’s face. “You do, though. And I bet my breeches you won’t tell me what it is. Although from the way you’re trying so very hard to keep your eyes on mine, perhaps you’ll tell me just for me to lose them.”

Lessia dragged a hand through her hair, silently cursing herself when it trembled. “If this is your way of flirting, I’m not surprised you never have any women warm your bed.”

Loche raised a brow. “You’ve asked people about me. Not helping your case.”

Groaning, she made to step back, but the couch blocked her escape. “I was volunteered the information. I havenotasked anyone anything about you. If you haven’t heard, I have no trouble getting men to fall at my feet.”

Her nose scrunched at the lie.

She loathed keeping these rumors stirring.

She had no interest in men.

Like Amalise, she’d given up the hope of finding love. Didn’t see the point in it when all she did was put those she loved in danger.

Apart from Ardow keeping her company on lonely nights, and only because he’d never do anything so stupid as falling in love with her, she hadn’t had a single man in Ellow in her bedroom.

Loche drew closer, towering over her with his inhumanly tall frame as he crowded her by the couch. She forced herself to arch her neck to keep meeting his eyes—not stare at those hard muscles glowing softly in the light.

His mouth twitched, and his gray eyes flitted between hers as he leaned in to whisper, “I think you forgot how to breathe.”

He let out a raspy laugh when she sucked in a breath, and she tore her eyes away, pushing him aside and ignoring the feeling of soft skin under her hands as she stepped aroundhim. Taking deep breaths was easier now that he was a few feet away, and her shoulders lowered slightly as she walked around the couch, keeping it between them.

Loche slumped down on the worn couch, legs splayed over the armrest, head leaning on the other side. “I’m starting to suspect there is more to you than the rumors around town. Those big amber eyes of yours do not tell the story you’re trying to spin.”

---