Page 64 of Terror at the Gates

I woke up on a gasp, rising into a sitting position, clutching at my chest. I inhaled air like I’d just been given life for the first time. My lungs were burning, my heart was racing, and my entire bodyached.

I twisted onto my side and turned on my lamp, opening the drawer to my bedside table, half afraid I’d find the blade, despite having thrown it into the canal.

A cold wave of relief flooded through me when all I discovered was a tangle of charging cords.

I shut the drawer and shoved my fingers through my still-damp hair.

Zahariev was gone.

I wondered when he’d left.

Rising to my feet, I started to reach for my phone tocheck the time when I remembered I didn’t have it anymore. My stomach flipped at the thought of Lisk having access to my messages. They weren’t overly incriminating, though my exchanges with Zahariev were always flirtatious. If the archbishop decided to share them with my father, I was going to have a hard time convincing him nothing was going on between us.

Thank fuck I’d never sent nudes.

Not with that phone at least.

And never to Zahariev, though after last night, I couldn’t say that he had never seen me naked. It didn’t matter that it had nothing to do with sex. If my father found out, Zahariev was a dead man.

Except he’d known that, and he’d stayed anyway.

A warm flush crept into my cheeks, and my heart beat a little harder. I’d never been so vulnerable with another person before. I felt a collision of emotions inside me, a heady embarrassment I wasn’t sure I liked.

I took a breath and exhaled, tilting my head toward the ceiling. For a few seconds, my embattled emotions vanished, returning with a vengeance when I thought about everything that had happened last night, particularly the way Zahariev had just…been there. He had cared enough to check on me, cared enough to hold me, cared enough to stay with me until he was sure I wouldn’t be alone. Now all I could think about was how solid he’d felt against me, how warm his skin had been against mine, how good he’d smelled, bold but sweet. I couldn’t place it. I just knew I liked it.

And I hated that I liked it.

It wasn’t like I’d never thought about kissing Zahariev. I had.Lookat him. He was hot. Everyone I’d grown up withwondered what it would be like to fuck him. Some of them had. I knew because the women who had made it into his bed told me how good he was.

I hated that too.

But I hated the jealousy that ravaged my insides more.

The problem was Zahariev wasn’t for me because I wasn’t for him.

Untouchable.

That was my list, and this? It was just the remnants of my schoolgirl crush, surfacing in the aftermath of a night that had made me feel like a child again.

I left my bedroom to use the bathroom. The nightmare left me feeling like I was covered in a layer of silt. I washed my face, noticing the water in the sink turning brown.

For a moment, I thought it was coming from the faucet, but as I cupped my hands beneath the stream, the water was clear. I frowned and then ran my wet hand over my forearm, feeling sand grind against my palm as brown droplets fell to my pink tiled floor.

I looked in the mirror and dragged the same hand over my chest. My fingers left paler slashes in the dust on my skin.

What the fuck is happening to me?I muttered.

Did I sleepwalk?

Coco had never said anything. Maybe it was a recent development. Maybe that was why I’d started having such weird dreams.

Or maybe Zahariev’s boots had been really fucking dirty.

My stomach stirred. My body knew that wasn’t true.

I left the bathroom to grab a set of clothes, but as I entered my room, it felt different. Like someone had been here and looked through my things. I approached my bed,each step making my heart beat faster and faster. I gripped my comforter, noticing the sand on my sheets, and dragged it to the floor.

There, gemstones gleamed in a golden hilt, its blade buried deep in the springs of my mattress.