Page 58 of A Tongue so Sweet and Deadly

Releasing her, he took a step toward the door.

When Lessia remained frozen in place, he arched one of his dark brows. “You coming?”

Blinking a few times to clear her mind, she took a step toward him.

He was probably right.

They still had a week here, and she could do without being covered in crusty blood.

Or dying from infection.

Chapter

Twenty-Seven

As she walked out the door, she left it open, allowing the flames inside to spill onto the snow. Loche stood a few steps away, veiled in darkness, only the outline of his body breaking through the night.

Hovering within the light that trickled from the house, Lessia bent down to scoop up some snow into her hands and carefully rubbed it across her raw neck. Red stained her fingers when she wiped off the melting snow, and she ground her teeth as the coldness stung her wounds.

“You can remove your tunic. I’ll turn around to give you privacy.”

Turning her head, she glared at Loche.

A jolt shook her as his moonlit eyes found hers, and she looked away.

“Not happening,” she muttered and continued to reach within her tunic to remove the blood that had streamed down her chest.

Even if it might be nice to get all that blood off her, she couldn’t risk him seeing the tattoo.

As regent, he would immediately know what it meant, and he wouldn’t just suspect her anymore.

He would know she was here because of her king.

Snow crunched when he took a step toward her. “Your body does not interest me, darling. No need to worry.”

Unable to stop herself from hissing, she straightened. “So why are you trying to make me take my shirt off?”

Amusement flickered across his face as he lifted his hands. “If you prefer to remain bloodstained the next few days, that’s fine by me. I’m freezing and as clean as I’ll get out here.”

Loche stepped around her to enter the house, and as he was about to close the door, she yelled, “Wait!”

With her pulse quickening, she sprinted the three steps into the light of the house.

A small wrinkle formed between his brows. “You still have blood on you.”

Forcing air into her lungs to try to calm her racing heart, she shut the door behind her and leaned against the wall. Lessia spread her shaking hands against the cool wood and bowed her head to stop him from seeing her struggle for breath.

“I’m freezing. I’ll clean the rest off tomorrow,” she got out.

With a sigh, Loche grabbed one of the cups off the wooden table and opened the door again.

After scooping some snow up from beneath the step, he pulled the door shut and walked up to her. “Let me.”

She warily eyed him as he closed the distance between them, his bare chest glistening from remnants of snow, small drops running down his sculpted stomach.

Halting right before her, Loche cast her a questioning glance.

For reasons unbeknownst to herself, she nodded.

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