Lately, probably the last half year, since Kiril had started to gather the pieces of Anima Mundis, unruly nights were rather the rule not the exception for Samira.

If she thought about it, she didn't even recall when they first met. It must have been at an alpha gathering and she probably just cataloged him as a dangerous jerk, just like Amaru, and didn't think further about it.

She had been so in love and happy with Dahiru nobody ever got a second glance, but that morning when the phone rang and Angel told her they were both alive and had saved Mila, she released a breath she didn't know she was holding and that upset her.

It upset her that she was thinking about him the whole time too while she was holding a crying Ju the night before. But at that point she could still blame it on the other girl.

It bothered her that it felt different when she saw him the night after, when he finally came back, all wounded and bloody. It felt like she saw him for the first time. It was the first time she noticed that his hair really shone like silver under the moon light and that the way his plump lips uncovered an elongated canine when he smirked, lifted an eyebrow and voice a tired but still melodically sounding "Hello, witch!" were just details of how ravishingly handsome he appeared to her in that brief moment and all the moments after.

His scent felt different even if there wasn't anything different about it. She sensed all the end notes off cedarwood, bergamote mingled with blood, metal and mud, and under all of them, that one scent that is the essence of a person and that either attracts or appals one.

Usually she would have remained passive but this time she felt her own heart rate accelerating.

What in the name of the goddess is happening to me?

"You are staring at me, Samira, and it is creepy. Please don't tell me you are going to attack me again. I am so awfully tired."

"You are hurt," she managed to say drily and smother all the colorful thoughts.

"Quelle surprise, witch!" he answered rolling his eyes theatrically. "I was in a long fight, killed a lot of people. Sometimes you get hurt."

"You are annoying."

"That is also nothing new."

"Stop it! You are really hurt. There is a piece of enchanted silver in your abdomen and you will not heal unless you take it out."

"You can sense that? Interesting," he said, for once genuinely surprised.

"I am a witch, as you keep reminding me. So, do you want help with it or not?"

"Don't want to murder me anymore?"

That question asked in a somehow jolly tone would usually have irritated her but now it made her feel very strange.

Do I? If course I do. What's wrong with you, Samira? But I couldn't right now. I definitely couldn't.

"Oh my... You didn't say yes right away. Am I on the way to get absolution for my sins?"

"Never. Not unless you give me my power back. I see you have now four. Did you bully Angel into giving you his, since he isn't dead?"

"What do you think of me?" he asked smiling sarcastically.

It looked... Charming. Whatever bullshit Dasha was saying, she was seeing it now.

"The absolutely worst," answered Samira grimly in full contrast with her thoughts. "Now do you want my help or not?"

"I am in a hurry. I just came to shower, see Ju and instruct you to come with me because I need someone to keep an eye on Angel."

"You have an open, bleeding, infected wound. I think that's worth fifteen minutes of your time."

Kiril just shrugged, walked insider her room and laid down on the bed.

She frowned confused.

"Come on. I don't have the whole day."

Samira, what are you doing? Let him die of sepsis.

But she did the whole opposite, she sat down on the edge of the bed and lifted the scraps of what was left of his bloody, torn shirt.

The wound looked worse than expected, dark necrotic tissue already spreading on his stomach while it was still bleeding.

"It looks terrible. It's a miracle you can still stand. Now stay still, I am going to pull the shard out."

When she summoned her claws Kiril grimaced.

"With your bare hands?! Please tell me you at least have some medical training like your cousin. Or if not, call Dasha, she does, and she is good with her hands."

Samira was annoyed by the lack of trust in her skills, but not as much as hearing him mention Dasha. So she didn't wait, just pressed one of the hands on the wound and with the other she grabbed the silver tip of the shard, pulling it out slowly.

She was well aware it was painful but he wasn't making any sound and out of spite she wasn't trying particularly hard to be gentle.

The wound was still bleeding deeply but after the metal would be out, his body would start healing right away.

I never got this close to him, he is unarmed and he is not expecting it at all. I could jab the shard in the other direction and slit and artery. It would not be honorable but it would be effective.

"No, you couldn't. You can now move only because I allow you to. Now finish the job and back off," he said, and this time he wasn't amused.

"Get out of my head. That is so terribly invasive. Do you always do that?"

Samira really hoped the answer wouldn't be yes. At least now her mood was reset to their usual anymosity.

"No. Most people are just boring so I don't bother, but when they are life threateningly close it's very healthy, mostly when you lived most of your life surrounder by enemies. I almost believed you have good intentions, I must be really tired."

"Yes," answered Samira bitter, throwing the bloody silver piece on the bed.

"Michael is dead," said Kiril on a different note.

"You killed him?! You really are the most despicable creature I know!" barked Samira without thinking about it. Then it clicked. "You... Didn't. Who did it?"

If it would have been him, he would be Lycan King, but he wasn't. Someone else killed Michael.

"Angel."

"How on earth?" stuttered Samira.

"He took that one hard decision. Now you must imagine he isn't quite well at the moment, that's why I need you to come with me. He is busy guarding Mila now, but after he doesn't have a mission anymore to focus on, all this will come crushing down on him."

He was right. She also did everything she could to keep herself busy right after Dahiru died.

Samira couldn't even begin imagining how the poor boy felt. If she would have had to kill Dahiru herself she most certainly would have desired to die too.

There likely wasn't any solution, the pain and rage would just have been divided differently if Kiril killed him.

Michael had been her friend for many years, she couldn't help feeling sadness for his parting but she was also enraged that he didn't want to protect Erik's child. In her eyes, that was his first duty above anything else.

"Kiril?"

When she turned her gaze back to him, Samira noticed the regular breathing under closed eyes. He had indeed fallen asleep, just like that. He was defenseless and there was a piece of enchanted silver just centimeters away.

Again she thought about how she could kill him but somehow that wasn't at all what she felt like doing. What she felt like doing was to lean closer to inhale his scent and mover her fingers through his hair to see if it was indeed as soft as it looked and then to lick his lips open so she could taste the White Alpha of the North when she was not enchanted but her true self.

She acknowledged shocked that she was dying to do all that.

I clearly must have lost my mind.

"Wake up!" she screamed elbowing his wounded side out of anger with herself and spite.

Before having the possibility to breath or blink, steel arms enclosed her, claws wrapped around her throat breaking skin and wild blue eyes were shining in her face.

For a few seconds she was sure she signed her death sentence in a very stupid way.

"Kiril... Please... Let go." She couldn't bring up more than a whisper. "I am... sorry." In her mind, almost her whole life was flashing before her when she gasped for air desperately, trying to move her arms and claw at his steely grip.

When had he become so strong? Or had he always been.

"Kiril, I ... beg you..." Samira never thought those words would ever form a sentence in that way.

That was the beast she imagined, the one that everyone talked about, not whatever she saw lately. Still, it seemed somehow like his mind was cloudy and imprisoned. He wouldn't hurt her like that on purpose. It didn't make sense after everything, or was she just wrong?

His eyes snapped shut and lost the light of the supernatural. The grip loosed and the claws retracted.

"Never do that again," he hissed. But below the very obvious anger there was also something else, like loathing and a bit of fear.

"You almost killed me. What the hell is wrong with you?"

Samira stood up, cradling her belly, while blood was dripping from the claw marks on her neck.

"I am sensitive to rude awakenings," he answered gruffly, but then continued more neutral,"Does your spine hurt? I am not sure how hard I pressed."

"Hard enough, you psychopath. Get out of my sight."

Kiril's face was expressionless.

"We leave in fifteen," said Samira even more gruffly.

The hour long drive was just as uncomfortable. Samira asked to drive. Mainly just to annoy him, but Kiril was extremely passive, not opposing anything, not saying anything but a faint "Ok, whatever." and no other words after.

Dasha couldn't be convinced to stay, so now Samira had to watch her again all over him every time she looked in the read mirror.

They were speaking Russian so she didn't understand what they were saying either. Rather Dasha, because Kiril was just quiet and dismissive. That didn't have any effect on Dasha, that seemed to have made it her mission to get some that night.

Why was she doing that? But by asking that, Samira sensed her own hypocrisy. Now she saw it, she understood and she wanted it too, while feeling angry with herself.

It even went that far that she felt like screaming at Dasha to leave him alone, because if she wouldn't have him, nobody should.

The disturbing thoughts stopped for a while only when she saw Angel.

He reminded her too much of herself after Dahiru's death, to not smother all the thoughts of another guy in her mind.

The loss of a mate was terrible, likely the most horrible pain there was.

She wrapped her arms around him and they both started crying for minutes.

"You are not alone," whispered Samira.

"I feel empty. It feels like such immense emptiness that it will never be filled by anything. And then comes guilt, because I did it. I murdered the man I love."

"But you saved a lot of people, among them your Alpha's son and your friend. You aren't anything but a hero with all that it implies."

"I want to die," he said faintly.

"Please don't. I loath all the death that is around us lately. Don't you?"

Angel just sighed in her embrace.

When she looked up, her gaze fel on something that she should have expected but that took her off guard nonetheless.

Mila entered the hallway. She was pale but alive, not looking godly at all but very human and tired.

Kiril was holding a hand on her shoulder. A very casual gesture that isn't generally very meaningful but this particular time it was.

All the love, longing, candour and care could be sensed in the air and made her want to tare the world apart and that damn hand from her shoulder.

She wanted to scream her sense of possession in the four winds so that she would never see him touch any other female again.

Mine! And at the same time... Samira you are loosing it.