“Fires cause sweat,” I remind him with a smile. “Sweat freezes into clothes when the fires go out, and frozen clothes mean quick death. Someone dear to me taught me that. Would you wish me a quick death?”
“I would not,” he says, defeated.
“It has to be you,” I whisper. “It is not just my body’s craving, but my heart’s also. I would have made a shirt for you if I had the wool.”
He probably won’t know what I mean by this, nor as a warrior would he be able to profess any such feelings in return. So I just reach up and kiss him, feel the cool of his prickle lips and the heat of his mouth.
I don’t let him catch his breath or close his defenses against me. My tongue invades him like it did with the demon. I’ll draw out his hunger. I’ll show him I can be a virgin but a temptress still! I brea
