Page 29 of Terror at the Gates

His lips twitched, and he tilted his head back a little. “You don’t want to dance to my music, little love.”

I could usually ignore the effect of that nickname, but this time when he said it, I had to roll my neck to hide the way it made me shiver. As much as Zahariev accused me of fucking with him, he played the same game, which was fine.

I was about to fuck with him.

I turned and stuck my ass out as I bent to retrieve my phone from my belongings. When I faced Zahariev again, I saw his eyes shift quickly to my face. I wanted to smile, but I didn’t want him to steal the little bit of power I’d taken back.

I handed Zahariev my phone.

“Press Play when I tell you,” I said.

He took the device, holding my gaze.

“No questions?” he asked.

“I’ll ask for forgiveness later,” I said, turning away to get into position, keeping my back to him as I cocked my hip to one side. When I was ready, I glanced at him over my shoulder. “Press Play, Zahariev,” I said in a breathy voice. I didn’t intend to sound so seductive. The truth was I couldn’t breathe. As much as it thrilled me to dance and attempt to rile Zahariev, I also desperately wanted this job.

The music began, a slow and sultry beat. It was like the music Coco danced to before her final performance of the night and, according to her, the most important.

It’s the one that gets them all wound up, she had said.

I smiled at her words and let the music sink into my skin. I could feel it coursing through my veins. It was a guide that kept me moving.

I enjoyed this. I lost myself in this.

There were very few things in my life that I controlled, but when I danced, I felt powerful. Here, there was no magic, just the simplicity and beauty of a body in motion, and I wanted Zahariev hypnotized.

I let my arms rise, hands gliding over my ass, my sides, my chest, reaching high over my head before floating down, hips swaying as I pivoted to the side, rolling my body slowly. I held Zahariev’s gaze, which was easy because his eyes were pinned to me. His chin was lowered, his lips pinched together. It was a look that would have stopped any other woman in their tracks, but I was used to him.

I smiled.

“Don’t you ever relax, Zahariev?”

I was breathless as I dropped down, knees wide, my hands sliding along my thighs. He didn’t speak, but he uncrossed his legs and adjusted his position. One hand rested on his thigh, the other on the back of the couch.

I kept moving, arching my body as I stretched out on the floor before rising to my feet again.

“When did you learn to dance?” he asked.

“Coco taught me,” I said, lifting my arms up over my head, swinging my hips to one side, then the other.

“Of course,” he said.

For a second, his tone interrupted my rhythm, and I had to catch up to the music. I felt a brief wave of embarrassment and then frustration.

“Why say it like that?” I asked.

“Like what?” he asked.

“Like you don’t approve of Coco,” I said.

“Don’t infer, Lilith,” he said.

There was a beat of silence, and while I knew I should focus on my routine, I couldn’t help asking him another question.

“Are you mad?”

I couldn’t look at him, which wasn’t the point of this at all. I was supposed to maintain eye contact, but I didn’t want to see his expression.

---