Page 162 of Terror at the Gates

“We should search his house while he’s at service,” I said. “Maybe we’ll find the blades or something to blackmail him with.”

I’d take either, or better yet, both.

I turned my head to the side, adding. “Unless you have a better idea?”

“I have a better idea, but it’s not near as productive,” he said. I could hear the amusement in his voice and shivered as his breath brushed my ear.

I craned my neck to meet his gaze.

“So…you aren’t opposed?”

I didn’t want his approval exactly. I just wanted to know I wasn’t alone in my desire for justice.

“No. Even if I were, you’d go anyway, and I’d still follow.” He paused. His gaze was gentle, thoughtful as he studied my face. “I’d follow you anywhere.”

His words tangled in my chest, their truth drawing us together for a different sort of kiss. It wasn’t born out of desperate need or years of longing. It was a vow, sworn and sealed.

We didn’t need anything else.

Zahariev

It was just getting light when we returned to the compound. We slipped inside from the garage, finding the house quiet.

Lilith paused in the hallway and faced me, clutching the blade to her chest with both hands. She looked so tired but so fucking beautiful.

“Are you going to bed?” she asked.

The corner of my mouth lifted. “Are you asking because you want to come with me?”

Please come with me, I thought. If she did, I would stay up just to fuck her and every time I woke up after.

“Do I need permission?” she asked.

“Never,” I said. I bent to kiss her and then drew her close. She wrapped her armsaround my neck and her legs around my waist, and I carried her to bed.

Chapter Twenty

I woke unclothed in the cave.

The man was gone. The serpent too.

All that remained were a few dying embers in the fire and a frail piece of shriveled snakeskin. I took it as an offering and wrapped it around my wrist. I continued on, moving through the darkness differently, like I had been born of it.

I could sense the nearness of the cave walls and mineral formations. I could feel the movement of water but also its stillness, and somewhere below, tangled in the root, something burned.

But burned was the wrong word.

It wasn’t fire. It didn’t move the same way, dancing in colorful ribbons. This felt contained, an energy on the fringe of bursting.

It was distantly familiar, but I couldn’t place why.

I only knew it was the answer I had been seeking. It was what whispered to me in the dark and drew me near.

Holy woman,

Mother of the dark world,

Hold tight to your anguish, carry it deep

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