Page 72 of A Tongue so Sweet and Deadly

Flames of anger licked her heated neck.

She needed to have better control over this—over herself.

It wasn’t just Merrick who’d found out her weakness.

Loche’s strong arms flashed before her eyes, his voice whispering into her ear as she lost her mind to the darkness.

“I already know what happened.”

Her gaze, which had been focused on a small tear in her cloak, snapped up. “What do you mean?”

Merrick raked his fingers through his long hair and seemed to hesitate for a moment before he quietly responded. “I was there that day.”

Eyes widening, Lessia shifted so her legs swung over the bed. “What day?”

As if he could sense her movements, Merrick’s back straightened. “The day they pulled you out of that cellar.”

Every muscle in her body locked, and she couldn’t stop the onslaught of memories that washed over her.

A creaking door fully opening for the first time in five years, the useless resistance she’d put up as they dragged her out of there.

She’d thought King Rioner’s men had finally decided to execute her.

But when light blinded her and a voice she knew all too well broke through the excruciating pain from the sun, the king offered her a deal.

She’d get out of the dungeons—alive—if she only swore a blood oath to him.

Starved, scared, and desperate, she’d agreed far more quickly than she was proud of.

She’d been on a ship to Ellow less than a day after.

Finally gaining control over her mind, she forced her eyes to focus on the Fae before her. “I don’t remember seeing you there.”

Not that she had been able to see much.

It had taken days for her eyes to get used to light again.

She’d never let them forget after that.

Only when she closed them to sleep did she allow darkness to fester.

On the bad days, she couldn’t even allow that.

“The king wanted me there, so there I was.” Merrick rose to pace back and forth before the flickering fireplace.

“Ever the good soldier,” Lessia muttered, but when Merrick’s hands clenched by his sides, his steps faltering slightly, her brows snapped together.

Before she could ask what was on his mind, a knock had them both freeze. Merrick’s sword was already in his hand, and his gaze locked on the door.

Freeing her daggers from where they poked her hips, she rose from the bed and followed Merrick as he approached the door.

He moved like a predator, his steps entirely silent and his body tense as he tilted his head to listen. Lessia perked her ears as well, but whatever had Merrick lower his shoulder didn’t reach her half-Fae ears.

Spinning around, Merrick hissed, “Don’t let your guard down. I don’t wish to save you a third time,” before he stalked over to their adjoining door, opened it, and slipped inside so quickly she barely caught his cloak billowing after him.

With her mouth open, she turned toward the door, a curse slipping from her lips when Loche’s sharp glare met hers.

She started closing the door, but his hand gripped it, forcing it open.

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