Page 2 of Terror at the Gates

And while Zahariev might not let me dance, he did let me take refuge in his territory.

A hand snaked around my waist, and I was pulled against an older man. I put my hands out, flat against his soft chest. He wore a buttoned shirt, open at the collar and sweat stained. His forehead was shiny, his hair thinning. He chuckled as he drew me closer.

“Where are you going, pretty girl?” he asked.

I narrowed my eyes and glanced at his person. His suit jacket hung off the back of his chair. It was cashmere, evenly stitched, and accented with genuine animal horn buttons. The man was obviously from Hiram, the financial district. I was more than familiar with the area. I was born and raised there.

It was also where my father, Lucius, governed as head of the Leviathan family.

The man looked me up and down before his gaze settled on my breasts. They weren’t really that big, but in this dress, a sheath with thin straps, they swelled over the neckline.

“They don’t make them like you anymore,” he said.

I raised a brow. “Say that again,” I said. “To my face.”

The man lifted his gaze. I had felt his lust from the moment he drew me near, rampant and dark, but now I could see it. His pupils were blown, swallowing the color of his irises, his skin was flushed, and his cock was hard, straining against the fabric of his dark trousers.

“Defiance,” he said, a thin smirk curling his mouth. “I like it, but you’ll never find a husband with it.”

I kept my hands planted on his chest, both to maintain distance between us even as he tried to pull me closer and to give me more control over his arousal.

“Let me tame you, sugar,” he said. “I’ll be real good.”

A violent shudder went through me, and I suspected few women ever left this man’s clutches alive.

I let one of my hands drop to his thigh, the other remaining at the center of his chest. His lips pulled back from his teeth as he chuckled in triumph, but I was reaching into his energy, seeking the parts of him that fueled his sex drive. I knew his by feel—a dizzying, nauseating force. I pulled it into the space between us. Outside his body, it no longer had purpose or intention—it was just fuel I could use to kill his sex drive.

“Let go,” I said, imbuing my command with magic.

He dropped his hand, and at the same time, his cock deflated as if pricked by a needle. His slimy smile fell, and his pupils constricted so that I could see the color of his eyes, a dull gray. Now pale, he looked far older than before, almost frail.

It felt like a just punishment.

I slipped back into the fold without a word, wanting to put distance between us before he recovered from the effects of my magic. They varied among men depending on their emotional state, stamina, and age—and those were just ones I’d observed. Either way, some recovered faster than others. I suspected this man would have difficulty achieving equilibrium, and the thought filled me with rapturous joy.

I smiled despite shivering, recalling the feel of his hands on my body, clammy and rough. I’m sure he thought he was entitled to me.She was asking for it, he would argue,as evidenced by my exposed skin. I wondered if Zahariev or his brother, Cassius, had caught the exchange. If so, my magic wasn’t the worst thing that would happen to him tonight.

As much as I despised men like him, I should have been more aware. There was always one whose desire was so raw and uncontrolled, it broke through my shield. I hadn’t figured out how to fix that flaw yet. I assumed I just wasn’t powerful enough, and if that was the case, then I was fucked.

I pushed those thoughts away and instead focused on the clientele.

While there were quite a few women, most were men. I could tell where they were from by the way they dressed. People from Hiram were white-collar and wore wool suits; people from Temple City wore polyester. Those from Akkadia dressed more casually, in cotton, linen, or blended fabrics, while those from Galant were more blue-collar and wore durable and dark fabrics. Visually, it was easy to see where we all fit in the hierarchy, but here, in the City of Sin, we were equal in one thing—desire.

And right now, I desired something valuable I could sell on Smugglers’ Row that would pay my rent…and I might have glimpsed just the thing.

It was a dagger. I noticed it because the gems inlaid on its hilt and sheath glimmered, catching the scattered light at the slightest bit of movement from its owner. It was not unusual for people to carry blades if they worked in the temples or guarded the gates, but those were most often plain. This one looked expensive, looped on the belt of a middle-aged man from Hiram.

With my target chosen, I studied him from afar.

He was handsome and sported short, graying hair anda well-manicured beard. He looked fit and relaxed, almost reclining at the bar, one elbow on the tabletop, another perched on the back of his chair, a glass of amber-colored liquid clutched between the tips of his fingers. He didn’t wear a ring, which meant he wasn’t married or he’d taken it off.

The problem was he wasn’t alone. Two men, likely his colleagues, sat beside him. I couldn’t hear what they were talking about, but the story must have been amusing, because now and then, their laughs erupted, rising over the roar of the crowd. I wondered if my target’s friends would get in the way of my work. I could attempt to charm them all, but that would take a lot of magic, and a lot of magic made a lot of energy, which would alert security to my presence, and I didn’t want to get dragged away before I got my hands on that blade.

As if he sensed my gaze, the man’s eyes slid to mine and then down my body. I took that as an invitation to approach and wandered up to the bar, slipping between him and his two companions. I didn’t look at him immediately and instead hailed the bartender. There was a downside to coming to places where I was familiar, and that was being recognized.

The bartender, Eli, raised a thick, disapproving brow at me as his gaze flicked to the man beside me.

“Hey, Lils,” he said. “What can I get for ya?”