Page 88 of A Tongue so Sweet and Deadly

Loche shifted her away from the center, every deliberate movement of his hard body sending a tremor down her spine and the little space between them crackling with electricity.

His hands continued to roam over her back, flooding her veins with warmth, until they reached a dimly lit corner, where he positioned her out of sight from the rest of the people.

As they swayed from side to side, his eyes burned into hers until it felt like every nerveinside her was on fire.

When a glass clattered behind him, Lessia jerked, and she instinctively went to take a step back.

Her eyes widened as Loche stepped with her, his hands still caressing her back, eyes locked on hers.

What was she doing?

Lessia’s heart nearly stopped when Loche leaned in, so close their breaths mingled.

A smile spread across his face, but surprise filled his eyes when he whispered, almost as if to himself, “You want me.”

A blush threatened to creep up her neck, and she stuttered, “Wha— No, I don’t.”

His eyes flitted between hers, his smile faltering. “Tell that to your eyes.”

She averted them, becoming acutely aware of how every inch of her body aligned with his.

When she took a step back this time, he let her.

Cautiously lifting her gaze, she found his face steeled, his features once again etched with hardness.

“You should stay away from me, Lessia.”

With that, Loche bowed and spun on his heel, leaving her feeling more confused than ever.

“Do you know what you’re doing there?” Merrick sidled up beside her, and she quickly closed her gaping mouth.

Lessia drew a breath, trying to calm her racing heart. “Dancing?”

“That wasn’t just dancing.” Merrick rubbed his neck.

She glared at him. “I am just trying to gain his trust.”

“Don’t forget I can smell you, Lessia. And I know very well what that scent is.” Merrick’s teeth snapped together before he started off in the direction where Loche had vanished.

Feeling as if her face might melt right off, she followed the Fae out of the room.

She had been attracted to him.

But it was only because of the dancing—because she’d felt free—had fun.

She argued with herself for hours, but even the cracked window in her room didn’t help the fire that continued to lick her skin as she thought of the dancing.

Of Loche.

Chapter

Forty

Lessia’s legs ached as she walked up the stairs from the training room, where Merrick had once again made her feel like a fumbling child.

Gripping the railing when her tired legs wouldn’t obey, she cursed Merrick and his stupid belief that she needed to learn the hard way, otherwise, she wouldn’t learn quickly enough.

When he’d woken her at dawn, she’d glared at him and asked what was so urgent. They weren’t to return to the cabin, and Craven hadn’t bothered her since they’d been back. As he enjoyed doing, Merrick only barked at her, “Listen to my stupid orders,” and once they’d gotten down to the musty cellar, he proceeded to slam her into the floor what felt like a thousand times.

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