Page 57 of A Tongue so Sweet and Deadly

Venko nodded with glazed eyes, and she pushed her magic deep down.

It wasn’t difficult. Without food, even that little bit of magic drained her; the energy she’d gained from fighting Craven had quickly vanished.

With a sigh, she shifted back to lean on the couch, pulling up her legs once more.

After a few moments of silence, Venko yawned. “I think I needto lie down. We don’t eat the best out to sea, but going without food like this is truly awful. And after going outside… I feel like I might die. I wouldn’t have gone if it didn’t sound like the whole ceiling was caving in when all that snow crashed down onto it. Good thing too. You might not have been sitting here otherwise.”

Lessia remained quiet when he rose on shaky legs and made his way to the stairs, walking with heavy steps up to his room.

After adding the last branches to the fire, she watched it until her eyelids became heavy as shadows fell across the room.

Forcing herself to straighten, she blinked, stretching her arms over her head.

She couldn’t fall asleep yet, not without knowing Loche would actually bring firewood back. Even then, after what happened today, she’d have to be on her guard.

She lifted the cup Venko had left by the fire, took a few sips, and poured the rest over her head.

The cold water immediately snapped her out of her drowsiness.

“I guess that’s one way to stay clean.”

Lessia turned her head to the door, where Loche strode into the cabin, his arms full of wet branches.

She rose and started toward him to help, but when he jerked his head dismissively, she faltered.

Lessia lingered by the couch, eyeing him as he spread out the wood on the floor. The firelight flickered on the muscles playing beneath his damp tunic, and she couldn’t stop herself from trailing her eyes over his large frame.

He really was tall for a human.

Her height rivaled that of most human men, but Loche towered over her. And coupled with all those muscles…

She wouldn’t have been surprised if he had some Fae blood in him.

When he cleared his throat, she shifted her eyes to his, her face heating as he raised a brow.

“I was just—”

She swallowed when he started to remove the tunic, leaving his tan chest on full display, all the while keeping his steely eyes on hers.

Loche took a step toward her, and she backed up, placing the couch between them and fixing her eyes on the floor.

“Please,” she whispered. “I don’t have the energy for your games tonight.”

Her muscles tensed when she heard him inch closer.

“Stay back, Loche,” she warned, but her voice betrayed her, exhaustion seeping into it and making it waver.

The heat from his body enveloped her as he stepped into her space, but Loche didn’t crowd her. Instead, his fingers gently cupped her chin and tipped her head up, his eyes slamming into hers before trailing over her neck.

“You’re covered in blood.”

She shook her head. “It’s nothing.”

Despite the warmth from his fingers, goose bumps rippled across her neck as he leaned in to examine the wound, his hot breath fanning over her sensitive skin.

When he tilted her head farther, she sucked in a shallow breath, and his grip on her chin tightened.

“It’s not deep,” he murmured, eyes colliding with hers again. “But you’ll want to clean it so it doesn’t get infected. All that sawing has me sweating. I was going to use the snow outside to clean up. You should do the same.”

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