The world was color, bliss, and wonder until that strange pain stroke. It felt like thousand daggers stretching out from her hand to the rest of her body. She had indeed felt the scar pulsating too when Akin kissed her but it didn't hurt like that.

Erik had been right, the pain disappeared as soon as he distanced himself.

Back to the house, she had more imperious problems. Her stomach decided to suddenly not tolerate the tequila anymore and she spent the next two hours bent over the toilet.

She barely heard Erik coming in, forgetting completely she let the bathroom door open.

"I feel awful."

"Yeah, you look awful too," acknowledged Erik, maybe just to irritate her.

"Ah go away." Mila threw annoyed the toilet paper roll at him. He laughed and caught it without flinching.

"You did it to yourself."

"I did. So? If you don't want to help go away; I don't like your condescending look. And don't you dare to give me the shiny eyes."

Erik laughed again. It was nice to hear him laugh. It was nice to acknowledge that they had built up some strange kind of camaraderie in the face of the issues the magical world threw at them.

"Stand up; I brought you a pill for your stomach. I really don't get why you people are doing this to yourselves."

"It felt like fun and freedom for an instant, you know. But I don't like the idea either. My father used to drink a lot."

"And beat you and your mom," said Erik. That was was people likely thought. The real situation was to some extent atypical though.

"Yes. Mostly me. My mom was the one making him angry and running away." She couldn't miss the flash of surprise that rushed over his face. That wasn't the narrative he expected.

He stretched out his hand to help her get up but Mila didn't grab it and stoop us on her own.

"I am sorry," he said after a moment of silence. It seemed sincere.

"Don't I get a hug?" asked Mila with a shy smile. She wasn't quite sure what was happening to her but somehow she liked being comforted by him and she liked even more being kissed by him.

"It would activate the mark again." It was such a responsible and considerate answer accompanied by him brushing the back of his hand against her cheek it it made her smile a bit.

"How is such a thing done?"

Erik handed her a white pill and a glass of water. Mila didn't question anything that time and just swallowed it. It seemed she started trusting him after all.

"A wolf has to mix his blood with yours. Now sleep. We will see to it tomorrow. I need fresh air."

"Do I smell that bad?"

"The vomit is helping you not smell too appealing. Sleep tight, Mila," he said walking away.

Mila felt her fingers twitch to make him stay but she closed her palm in a fist out of habit for all the times in the past she had felt afraid to ask for anything.

Alone, she crept under the blankets and watched the dark forest and the mountain peaks until her eyelids were too heavy to stay open.

The moonlight was falling on Dasha's white skin. She was wearing only a lace panty and a hoodie, her hoodie, and was kneeling in front of her. The makeup was making her sly blue eyes sparkle even more. She was exquisitely beautiful, as Mila remembered her.

A lazy touch along her sternum made Dasha close her eyes and moan softly.

She let the hoodie slip off her shoulders and revealed her perky breasts.

"No, leave that on." Mila heard herself saying.

"Why? Am I not pretty enough? Do I need to cover myself?" said Dasha smirking.

"Obey." One word, as the only answer.

"Yes, master!" said Dasha and leaned over to kiss her deeply and passionately.

Mila felt tingles in her body and blood pounding in her ears.

"Turn around," she said to Dasha.

Dasha did so without question. She traced the line of her spine with her tongue and teeth then moved along her left shoulder, pulling her hair back and making her look in the mirror in front of them.

Mila lifted her gaze to see herself and Dasha, but whom she saw with Dasha was not her but a man, white-skinned and blue-eyed, with long white hair and silver beads, braided in his locks. She knew him. It was the man from the bar, and at that point, she was sure he was not just that.

He smiled at the mirror image, holding Dasha's head back and licking along the lines of her neck.

"So, what do you want, Dasha?" he asked baring his teeth. Fangs, he had fangs.

"Fuck me, master, please." Dasha moaned softly.

"Gladly." His eyes lit up in blue light while he bit into Dasha's shoulder.

Mila's eyes popped open. Her heart was pounding in her chest and she was drenched in sweat.

She had to see Dasha. Dasha was in danger. She had to help her.

Still shaken by the dream that seemed to not be only that, she barged into Erik's room without knocking. To her disappointment it was empty, the bed untouched. He had not been sleeping there or maybe at all.

Mila stepped out the front door and started screaming into the woods, governed by anxiety.

"Erik!" Loud and desperately. But there was neither Erik nor an answer.

Her screams seemed to have woken up Angel that came sleepy-faced to the terrace.

"Carajo mujer! Tune it down; I have a hangover. What are you doing up this early?" asked Angel yawning.

"Where is he?" asked Mila angry. She was not sure why she was angry. Maybe she wasn't after all but anger was the release she found for her concern at that moment.

"Calm down; he is coming. But damn, what did you two do last night? I didn't imagine you would wake up this messed up, and not in a good way. "

Mila ignored the question. They had kissed last night. He was laying on top of her... naked and they kissed. She almost forgot that, but her whole body seemed to remember now.

"You indeed did something. Damn, girl," said Angel looking at her with a smug expression.

Mila felt the blood keeping up her cheeks.

"How do you know he is coming?" asked Mila, to change the subject that was making her really uncomfortable.

"I can smell him. But he still needs about fifteen minutes; you should shower meanwhile."

Mila had to admit he had a point.

"Is he angry?"

"How the fuck can I know? I hope not. He almost tore my head off last night though."

"Well... can you not... smell it ?" asked Mila with a hint of sarcasm.

"No... How can one smell anger, girl? The only thing I can smell on him is... well... horny... Fyi. Oh and Michael, Michael is coming too. Yey!" said Angel smirking again and entering the house.

Mila followed him inside and took a shower. Sweat and vomit were not something she wanted to smell of when asking a guy a favor. A guy that she drunkenly made out with the night before.

It had been so weird. They both had been so out of control, still, it felt so natural. It seemed like their bodies had known each other, recognized each other, and felt perfectly at ease with each other.

Mila exited the bathroom brushing her wet hair to find Erik sitting on the edge of her bed.

"Oh. I didn't expect you," she said. She didn't but she had looked forward for his return more than she liked to admit.

"We need to talk." His expression was stern and serious.

"Yes, we do. I need to go to London. Please. Let me go to London. I need to see if Dasha, my roommate, is ok. I have a horrible feeling. I am not throwing any tantrums, I am asking you. Begging you," said Mila looking into his beautiful and very sad eyes.

"Mila, Dahiru gave me an ultimatum. I have to mark you or he is going to do something about it. By something, he means getting you out of the way. I would never let anybody harm you as long as you are under my protection but my pack has already enough enemies. I have been selfish enough so far by putting my desires before their own good. Please forgive me. I just have to." Dark shadows clouded his gaze, marks of sadness that had deeper roots than the present misfortune.

He stood up and put his hands on her shoulders. Mila backed off frightened till her back was against a wall.

As a reaction, Erik's eyes lit up in anger. He clenched his fist together and his canines popped out violently, making his lower lip bleed.

"Please don't hurt me," said Mila instinctually with tears in her eyes.

"They will want to kill you if I don't."

Mila swallowed her tears and lifted her chin to look him in the eyes.

"Ok. Under one condition. I will not resist whatever you want to do if you bring me to London to see Dasha," she said boldly.

Erik looked at her for a while. It seemed like he was considering it.

He could force me to do it anyway.

"Ok, I can do that much for you," said Erik faintly.

"And this? Will it hurt like last time?" Mila lifted her ominously scarred finger.

"I don't know, but I will try my best for it not to."

Mila bowed her head. After swift consideration, it seemed like her only viable alternative.

"Let's get it over with," she said looking at the floor. She wasn't sure what to expect but I was likely nothing pleasant.

Erik cupped her face and lifted it gently to look her in the eyes. That eternal sadness was there, the one Mila acknowledged recently that had been there for a long time, every time she looked at him, except last night.

"I really wished for this to happen differently." Even his voice was sad. It wasn't angry at all. The anger was something Mila was used of him but not this very frankly expressed regret.

"Differently...?"

A ghost of a smile appeared on his face.

"Yes. Generally, it is... desired... consensual... enjoyable."

He closed his eyes and it looked like he was recalling a memory.

He is thinking about her, about how it has been with her. The thought stung just a little bit.

"It sounds like marking your territory by pissing on a tree. What can be enjoyable in being pissed on?" said Mila, partly also wanting to hurt him, for a reason she was not quite sure of.

He graced her with a half-smile, but one that didn't reach his eyes.

"Where do you want it?" he asked silently.

"Another scar..." whispered Mila. She thought a bit and lifted her T-shirt. "Can you do it here somewhere, over these?" she asked looking at her badly scarred abdomen.

"I can. I can also make them go away, all of them if you don't mind some pain."

That sounded surprising, interesting, and intriguing.

"It can't be worse than getting them. I was not able to stand straight for a week," she confessed.

Erik's eyes lit up again and he pulled her into his arms pressing something against her right hand. Her finger pulsated again but didn't hurt.

"Hold this," he whispered, signaling her to hold the thing he was pressing against her finger.

She just obeyed, sinking in the embrace, in the feeling of his lips against her forehead and his hands on her back.

"Lay down," he whispered again pushing her gently onto the bed while holding her gaze. That time his eyes were not shining, they were human and that was relieving. They just shined briefly when he summoned his claws.

He lifted her t-shirt brushing his fingers gently over the uneven skin.

"It will hurt a bit. I am sorry for it." His voice was smooth and comforting.

The finger of one hand laced with hers. It was oddly comforting even if he was going to be the one inflicting pain.

"Look at me." Het met her eyes and smile then lowered si gazed and pressed his claws lightly into her skin. Mila gasped in pain, then whimpered. His hand was squeezing her with every sound. When she looked into his eyes, they were lined with a silver film.

Erik breathed in deeply, blinked, and summoned his fangs, slicing along his index and middle finger.

"Sanguis sanguinem meum, pars animae meae," he said in a somewhat solemn voice, tracing her open wounds with his bloody fingers.

"You have to say it too and accept the mark,"

"What does it mean?"

"That you are blood of my blood and piece of my soul," he answered almost inaudibly.

Mila felt lightning-struck. Those were just some dumb words in a language she didn't understand but after everything she had seen the last weeks she couldn't just brush off the fact that she was in the middle of an ancient ritual.

No, I can't read too much into it. It already feels like madness.

"Sanguis sanguinem meum, pars animae meae," she said, amazed she remembered the words.

Her nihilistic nature took a blow when she witnessed her skin glowing and her wounds closing when Erik's blood flowed into them.
And with that, something else came to life, the awareness in her, awareness of him and of what he felt in that moment. She understood without thinking or knowing how, that he was afraid, in awe, hurting, and immensely blissful, all at the same time.

She understood the decades of pain, guilt, and loneliness. She understood and felt things she shouldn't feel or understand which made her whisper, "It is not your fault that she died."

"No, it isn't, but it hurts the same," he said, and all the sadness reverberated in her.

Mila felt like saying that she was there, she was alive and they had found each other but it felt dumb, unrealistic, and presumptuous so the words died on her tongue.

His eyes were storm and thunder and so was her body when he bowed his head and traced with his tongue the last lines of the cuts. The feeling was exquisite, a hint of pain in a sea of unexpected pleasure. Her fingers ran through his hair and she closed her eyes enjoying everything.

It was unexpectedly delightful. There wasn't any pain or fear. Not even when his claws cut through the middle section of her bra she wasn't afraid he would hurt her. Regardless of the situation, he never hurt her.

If something, she was discovering new feelings as his tongue slid in lazy strokes over her breasts making her nipples harden and her core pulsate.

The journey continued up the lines of her neck and ended on her lips where he kissed her slow and smooth, holding her gaze before he stood up abruptly and headed to the door.

"Where are you going?" she asked frowning.

"Away. I mean, what can be enjoyable in 'being pissed on', was it?" he said with a smug expression and walked away.