Page 138 of Terror at the Gates

“When did you become such a gentleman?”

Though I teased, he didn’t smile. “I’m not asking to be a gentleman.”

I parted the stole and slipped one of the thin straps of my dress back in place, then ran my hands over my hips and stomach to smooth out the fabric. When I was finished, I looked up at Zahariev. By the heat of his gaze, I got the sense he’d tracked every movement I’d made.

I arched a brow. “I think it might be your turn, Zahariev.”

He smiled, lips pulling back from his teeth. Anyone watching us probably thought I said something funny instead of implying that the head of the Zareth family had a hard-on for me.

He stepped to the side, and it was the first time I had really gotten a good look at my childhood home. It was a grand mansion, a delicate mix of sharp angles and round edges. After living here so long, the house had felt small,but that was only because I had gotten older and the things I needed to hide from were bigger.

I had rightly guessed my mother’s plans to bring her theme ofan evening beneath the starsto life. Hundreds of shimmering lights hung from the trees outside our home, unpolluted by the yellow-tinged glow of streetlamps.

Zahariev offered his hand, and though I didn’t really need help navigating the three short steps that led to my parents’ front door, I accepted anyway.

It wasn’t the intimate hold we’d shared in the dark cabin of the SUV, but the curl of his fingers around mine was grounding in a space where I felt untethered.

Zahariev looked at me before we crossed the threshold.

“Do your thing, little love,” he said, and the part of me that could be harmed by disapproving looks and cruel words held her breath and vanished. It was just in time too, because at our appearance, the murmur of quiet conversation echoing in the foyer went silent.

A smile danced across my lips as I surveyed the crowd, recognizing the faces of family bosses, matriarchs, their children, and associates. I felt their disdain, and it only grew as I slipped my fur stole from my shoulders. I was the only one in red—the only one in a color that wasn’t some sparkling shade of silver, champagne, or black.

There must have been a dress code.

Oops, I thought with little remorse.

I felt someone tug on my stole. It was Zahariev, taking it and my purse to check. I relinquished them with a seductive curl of my lips before returning my attention to the crowd.

This time, it was easy to find my parents amid the sea of sparkling gowns, mainly because I could feel my mother’s disapproving gaze, though I could hardly takeoffense. Her icy eyes rarely melted for anyone other than the archbishop.

She stood stoically beside my father, dressed in a black gown with silver beading. The neckline was high and one-shouldered. She was a slight woman but no less powerful, even dwarfed by my father.

Looking at her was like taking a blow to the chest, and it had nothing to do with her disdain.

It was because I saw myself in every part of her, from the sharp curve of her eyes to the pinched dissatisfaction of her mouth. I wondered if she hated it as much as I did.

I turned fully to them and smiled.

“Father,” I said with breathless joy as I crossed the room. He accepted my embrace and then held on to my hands as I stepped back.

“Lilith,” he said. “Look at you.”

His comment was not praise but the equivalent of showing him a piece of art and the only thing he could think to say was,yep, that’s red. It was the best I could hope for. The worst would come later when he dragged me into his office to scold me for ignoring hisone request.

“Mother,” I said, my tone considerably colder than when I’d addressed my father. I didn’t hug her but braced my hands on her upper arms as I leaned in to mimic kissing her cheeks.

“Darling,” she said tightly.

I expected her to voice some kind of backhanded compliment. Usually, it was something along the lines ofwhat a charming necklace, even though I hadn’t taken it off since my father gifted it to me. Tonight, however, she couldn’t even manage that.

Luckily, she was saved from having to find somethingto like about me by the approach of a man I didn’t recognize.

He was older, probably in his forties, and handsome. His skin was burnished, like he’d recently spent a lot of time in the sun. I’d bet he had a yacht off the coast in the Kurari Sea. I could picture him there, dark hair blazing against a pale sky.

He wore black, but there were elements of his suit that made it unique—velvet lapels and a sequined black tie.

“Lilith, darling, I’d like you to meet Mr. Macarius Robert Caiaphas.”

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