He sheathes it and leaps into the hollow landing gracefully beside Liska and kneeling at her side. “Are you injured?” “I don’t—I—” She gulps another too-shallow breath, brushing leaves and moss frantically off her skirt, then looks up at the demon. That is a mistake. The Leszy is far closer than she thought, his face inches from hers, sage-colored eyes like beacons in the dark. His brows are drawn low, his lips parted slightly, and the long shadows of his eyelashes paint his cheekbones like streaks of ink. Their eyes meet, and it feels like the world tilts.
