Page 132 of Terror at the Gates

“You can’t know that,” I said.

“I think I do,” he said. “I’m pretty convinced your so-called demons are after those seven blades.”

I furrowed my brows but didn’t have time to ask why he thought that, because Gabriel returned to the living room.

“Can one of you help me with this fucking tie?” he asked.

I jumped at the sound of his voice.

“Of course,” I said.

As I rose to my feet, Zahariev’s hand slipped from my leg.

“I hate these things,” Gabriel said as I took each length into my hands.

Coco called this one of my hidden talents. Really, I’d just been forced through etiquette training. I’d learned how to make menus around special occasions, pair the perfect wine with each dish, arrange flowers into a stunning bouquet, and knot a neck or bow tie, which ever my husband chose.

I’d have rather learned how to cook or even drive a car. Those were practical skills.

“You don’t have to wear it if you don’t want to,” I said, glancing up at him. I noticed his eyes were rimmed with red, and I suspected all he’d done in the shower was cry.

“I know,” he said, his voice quiet. “But I think Esther would like it. She always told me she did.”

“Well, it’s only a few hours. Then you can come home and change into your smelly robe,” I said, tightening the knot at his neck before letting my hand rest on his shoulder. “For now, though, you smell better.”

His laugh was almost like a sigh. “Thanks, Lily.”

“Five minutes,” Zahariev called.

Gabriel flipped him off as he headed into his bedroom.

I turned and found Zahariev watching me. I couldn’t place the expression on his face, but it made me feel self-conscious.

“What?” I asked, just as a knock came at the door.

“You want to get it, or should I?” he asked.

“If it’s Livie and you don’t answer, I think she will be very disappointed.”

He raised a brow but rose with Liam, approaching me.

“Hold him.”

The transfer didn’t feel as awkward as it had the first time, though he made a few quiet noises before yawning and going still. I watched him as Zahariev went to the door.

“Hey, Livie,” I heard him say.

“Hi, Mr. Zareth,” she said shyly.

I looked up as she entered the living room and smiled at her.

“Livie, you remember Miss Leviathan,” Zahariev said.

“Yes,” she replied with a note of quiet disappointment.

It didn’t bother me. I knew what it was to be her age and have a crush on an older man. Even knowing the impossibility of anything happening, the jealousy was hard to quell.

Being a teenager was hard.

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