Page 93 of Terror at the Gates

“Lilith,” Zahariev said, but I refused to look at him.

I felt his fingers graze my temple. I closed my eyes, taking a shuddering breath.

“I’m trying to protect you. Why won’t you let me?”

I opened my eyes and met his gaze. I sort of hated the way his features softened, like he was trying to make me forget he’d called me a child.

“I don’t need you to protect me.”

“You need it,” he said, unable to keep that tender facade. “You just don’t want it from me.”

“Oh, fuck off,” I said. “Don’t act like you’ve done anything for me out of kindness. We both know my father asked you to keep tabs on me.”

Zahariev’s brows lowered, and I swear his eyes became a brighter shade of blue. I recognized I was playing with fire,but I wanted to burn.

“You don’t think I have been kind?” he asked.

There was a rough edge to his voice. It scraped against my skin, making me shiver. As he spoke, he leaned closer. I had to hold on to his arms to keep from falling. His biceps were solid muscle, and I was reminded of how it had felt to be held by him after my run-in with Lisk.

My grip tightened as my body grew taut, almost uncomfortable. There was a heat pooling between my legs that made me feel swollen and empty all at the same time. I wanted to press my thighs together, but Zahariev was between them, once again keeping me from the thing I wanted.

“Kindness doesn’t mean anything if you’re doing it for favors, Zahariev.”

For a second, he was still as stone, but then the corner of his mouth lifted in a mocking half smile before his eyes dropped to my lips.

“Oh, little love,” he said. “You have so much to learn.”

I felt like he was laughing at me, and the desire to make him suffer coiled tightly within me. I slid my hands around his neck and pulled him to me, our mouths colliding in a hot, too-simple kiss before parting for a few breaths. At the same time, I tightened my legs around Zahariev’s waist and drew him closer. He was exactly how I’d imagined, hard and thick.

I almost moaned.

“Lily,” Zahariev warned, his voice low and rough.

My fingers tightened in his hair. “I thought I told you not to call me that.”

“Everyone calls you Lily,” he said.

“My friends call me Lily,” I said.

“Am I not your friend?” he asked.

I rocked my hips, reminding him of our currentcircumstances. Zahariev’s breath hitched.

“Are you interested in fucking your friends?” I asked.

His hands shifted, spanning my rib cage. It was like he wanted to put distance between us but couldn’t gather the courage to do so. Selfish prick. “I didn’t mean for this to happen.”

I blinked, my hold on him lessening.

“Are you saying you didn’t mean to get hard?”

He stared at me, his mouth tight, his body rigid.

“Why are you making this so difficult? You know this can’t happen.”

“I’m not making it difficult,” I said. “You act like this has to mean something. Sex can just be sex.”

He’d fucked plenty of women with those same expectations. The only thing keeping him from doing the same with me was my name.