The whiskey tasted like fire and blood but it numbed Mila's mind exactly as she wanted it to.

"What do we do now, white alpha guy?"

"I don't know," said Kiril simply, as if he gave up on everything, as if everything he was and wanted didn't matter or didn't exist anymore. 

"Don't you always have a plan? How long have I been out?" Mila looked at him and smirked. 

"I used to. Now not anymore. A week. You were feverish and delirious and..."

Kiril was lying beside her in bed, above the covers, and had undone the first two buttons of his shirt. His long silver hair was loose, falling wildly over his face and shoulders and his eyes were those million shades of blue that impressed Mila the first time they met. She was not sure if it was the whiskey or the mark, but he appealed to her undeniably attractive, and at the same time, she wanted to rip out his heart.

"Can you make me forget?" she asked suddenly.

As a response, he took a big sip of the bottle of whiskey. After the first two glasses, he resolved to drink from the bottle. That gesture seemed in contrast with his usually very elegant and composed self. Something in him broke that day too; something snapped and changed and it couldn't be repaired. At the end of the day, his life was as fucked as hers.

"No."

"Don't be nasty. Can you not even try? Why don't you wanna help me? All the people that loved me died. Every time I close my eyes I see that hideously pretty face of your goddess laughing in my face and stabbing Erik. Every fucking time. I wish so badly to be powerful and wipe that smug smile off her face. I suppose you are acquainted with the feeling. I mean, look at everything you did, still, she used you and won. I felt how sad you were when your father died; it broke my fucking heart even if you creep the living hell out of me. So why don't you want to help me? I beg you."

"No. It doesn't work as you imagine," said Kiril looking at the ceiling.

"Ok, whatever," she said irritated. Then she leaned over to grab the whiskey bottle from his hand.

"What are you doing?" he asked almost frightened, as if the proximity was affecting him in some way, hurting him.

"Trying to forget so I don't go mad," she said taking a big gulp of the bottle.

"Stop that. You didn't eat properly for days; you are hurting yourself," hissed Kiril.

"So? What do you care? I want to die."

"But I don't want you to! I keep hearing the whining of your whelp and it's driving me crazy. I wish I could kill you to make it stop but I can't," thundered Kiril with sparkling eyes, taking the bottle away.

Mila woke up at some point around noon. She didn't remember how she fell asleep. Maybe Kiril made her sleep or the booze she gulped down like water.

As soon as she sat up, a sharp pain thundered through her head and vomit rose violently up her throat. Moving hastily her head to the right, she vomited over... Kiril.

"Fuck..."

But when Kiril opened his eyes, he started laughing with light in his eyes. It sounded like Christmas bells.

"This is a fucking first in one hundred and twenty years. It has been awfully long since something happened to me for the first time."

He stood up and started unbuttoning his shirt, then folding it neatly together. Mila realized only then that she was staring. She was tracing with her gaze the black and silver lines of the tattoo on his chest that bundled together where his heart was, into a single circle symbolizing the full moon.
Erik had a similar tattoo with a new moon in black and red ink but it appeared that Kiril had sliced his skin where the circle was. Four claw marks were cutting the moon into pieces.
There were also the marks Katharina left on his abdomen. He had saved her then too... Because he needed her but saved her nonetheless. 

"What are you doing?" asked Mila disturbed.

Kiril smirked and his eyes lit up with a hint of mischief, not of magic.

"Go to wash the vomit off. And yes Mila, these are Alpha markings. I hate them. They represent my fake devotion to a being that destroyed my life and that I despise. Yes, Erik had similar ones. We all do. I am not sure how he felt about them though. Yes, I am handsome, I know," he said entering the adjoined bathroom, with that shadow of a grin still on his lips.

Mila was, among other major things, very confused. What did she want? If it would be possible, revenge, but even Kiril tried and failed at that. Dying? Seemingly Kiril wouldn't let her, at least at the moment for whatever reason. Going out? Working? Living on? She had absolutely nothing, no job,  no money, no hope... Sure as hell couldn't return to her parents after their last encounter. So what was left? She just wanted to sleep and never wake up, but then she remembered Erik and their last conversation, the promise she made.

Her train of thought was interrupted by Kiril who exited the bathroom. He was wearing a pretty flamboyant velvet robe. The style was peculiar and unmistakably his. 

She frowned at him. Even if she understood his motives, everything was still his fault. Erik's death was his fault. She wanted it to be somebody's fault, so it wouldn't hurt so much, so she wouldn't feel so lost.

"You should eat something and take a shower too, Milena."

"To what end?"

"So you don't reek.  And the whelp is hungry. I want it to shut up," he said, rolling his eyes.

"For the hundredth time: I am not pregnant! But I do have to wash the vomit away."

Mila gave in and stood up from bed. A shower seemed to be a good place to let her tears roll and her sights get muted by the falling water. 

 The movement must have been too abrupt, or the past days of fever and the lost blood must have affected her more than expected because dizziness overcame her all of a sudden, and she wasn't quite sure what happened next.

Kiril's arms were coiled around her now lead-heady body. His face was so close that she could feel his breath prickle her skin. His eyes lit up and then slowly lost the shine, keeping only a tiny glimmer. It felt like a tight embrace without being one. It was again one of those moments when she felt like leaning closer and moving away, all at the same time. 

"You should eat something first, or else you will pass out in the shower." The first two words sounded unusually raspy before his tone to back the usual sass. 

"I won't. I am fine, and if something happens you seem to not be able to let me die. I suppose you are not afraid of seeing me naked either," said Mila yanking away from his embrace and marching towards the bathroom, hoping the clumsy remark did stinge a bit, as she intended it to.

"No, you look good naked. The only appalling thing is Erik's mark on your abdomen. And you liked when I touched you when I took off your torn clothes. In your feverish dreams, you moaned slightly and called me Erik. Major turnoff... So I am trying to avoid another awkward moment," said Kiril nonchalantly.

"You took my clothes off?" asked Mila frowning.

"Who else, the holy spirit? Don't worry, nothing I haven't seen before."

"You are a jerk," said Mila and continued her walk to the bathroom hoping she would indeed not get dizzy in the shower because she would likely never hear the end of that.

Two times the steam almost took her breath away but she didn't want to scream and see Kiril's condescending face, so she gritted her teeth together and composed herself. Ultimately she cried and washed the tears away in hot water and lavender-scented shower gel until her skin got wrinkly and it became difficult to breathe. 

The robe placed on the hanger was too thin for her taste, too short, and most certainly not accommodating for her very self-conscious mind. Kiril would probably have another smug observation at hand that she really didn't want to hear but that seemed to be the only option so she had to get over herself.

Her assumption had however proven to be wrong; the only thing Kiril was busy with was sipping red wine and eating caviar.

"Where did all this stuff come from?" asked Mila looking at the food that was arranged on a small table.

"It was delivered," answered Kiril absent-mindedly.

"By whom? You still didn't tell me who this house belongs to."

"To me, for the time being. The actual owner, Vladimir, is downstairs. His servants prepared the food. They think you are a wolf too so they are rather afraid. Now eat."

Eating. Mila didn't feel like eating at all even if she was extremely hungry.

"What are you waiting for?" asked Kiril after he took the lid of the plate filled with steak and vegetables.

"I don't feel like eating," said Mila.

"Oh, you are misunderstanding me. I was not asking you, I was demanding you fucking do."

Mila rolled her eyes and stood up attempting to walk away but Kiril was suddenly standing in front of her looking angry.

"Leave me alone. What do you want to do, force-feed me?"

"If I have to. Start eating! It's driving me crazy!" He gritted his teeth but couldn't prevent his canines from elongating slightly. 

Too exhausted for another conflict Mila walked past him, sat down, and took a bite. The food was exquisite on top of her extreme hunger. IT was so good her eyes closed and the corners of her mouth twitched up unwillingly. 

"Finally. So much struggle without a reason whatsoever."

"Sh..." Then Mila desisted from answering. He was not worth it. 

Kiril looked away a bit irritated and sipped at his red wine again. He got changed while she was showering. Now he was wearing a navy blue shirt and dark gray pants. The color of the shirt emphasized his features even more: the sharp bone structure, the noble pallor of his face, and the vivid blue in his eyes. He looked like a great lord or a prince of old, beautiful yet cruel and tyrannic.

There was only Mila's cutlery clicking on the plate and the silence soon became heavy.  Yet Mila didn't want to hear for a third time how her voice was irritating him. But watching him...

It was certain she didn't like him, but he had apparently saved her from the hell that broke loose on that mountain. He took Katharina's deadly blow in her place and he seemed to have taken care of her while she was hurt. Kiril was many things that Mila couldn't quite grasp, and she didn't know what would follow now... for both of them. 

Now when he was not looking her way anymore but sipping deadly calm at his expensive wine, Mila couldn't help stealing glances at him. The light was shining in his silver hair and the way he balanced the wine glass in his long fingers showed that effortless elegance Mila always admired but never managed to acquire herself. 

Then all of a sudden, his expression tensed and froze and the glass fell from his hand, splintering into pieces. The wine spilled on the wooden floor creating a blood-colored puddle, that Kiril was kneeling in, clutching his head. His eyes shone uncontrolled and extremely bright, so bright they looked like pools of silver light without any traces of irises or pupils. 

"What's happening?" Mila wanted to seem nonchalant but the tramble of her voice gave her away. 

"She... she is summoning the alphas," said Kiril with panting breath.

"Who, the Goddess?"

"Yes."

"Can you deny going?"

"Not sure. It feels like my skull is being split open."

And it was exactly how it looked; the veins on his temples were pulsating visibly, and a thin blood drop appeared at the corner of his right eye while another drop trickled how his pierced eyerob. He was obviously hurting but the anger on his face showed that he would rather die than give in. 

"What happens if you don't go?"

"I will probably dwell in excruciating pain for hours. Also if I don't go somebody else might claim my pack, and she will think I am dead," said Kiril between coughs and heavy breaths. 

"Do you want her to think that?" asked Mila.

Kiril directed his very shiny eyes at her. 

"No, I don't think I want that. In the end, I gathered the pieces of Anima Mundi for her; I look like her loyal servant. Maybe it's not bad to assess the situation," said Kiril standing up. As soon as he decided to not resist anymore the pain seemed to damper slowly. 

"Is she going to bang someone again?" asked Mila. She wanted her voice to sound nonchalant and sarcastic.

"I doubt it. If everything worked, Lucius is back and that is what they had been doing this whole time."

She was summoning the alphas, meaning the alpha of each continent would be there. That meant Michael and Dahiru would be there. Michael would help her, they both would.

"Take me with you."

"Why should I do that?"

"Because I want to see her," said Mila looking at the carpet. It was not necessarily a lie, she wanted to look at her murderous face once more.

Kiril didn't answer. It looked like he was weighing out the information.

"I suppose it is not bad if we assess your new situation too. Get dressed," he said.

That was easier than Mila expected. Kiril clearly didn't care for her well-being as Erik did. 

"In what?" asked Mila innocently.

Kiril smiled one of his sly, mischievous smiles and opened the wardrobe in the room.

"Take your pick but I would choose these," he said, throwing some clothes on the bed.

Black spandex pants and a shirt, a black leather jacket, and combat boots. He had gotten those for her. That was odd but the context was also so odd that it didn't stand out anymore. 

"Hurry," he said exiting the room. Mila was grateful for that.

Those clothes were comfortable even if kind of tight. Mila looked at herself in the mirror. This new attire made her look kind of badass. Even the bruises on her face that didn't heal completely seemed part of her new, fierce look. 

When he came back he was not wearing a skirt again and was unbuttoning his pants. He raised an eyebrow,  likely guessing Mila's questions out of her puzzled look.

"I like these clothes; I don't want to rip them while turning."

"Where do we go?" asked Mila, trying to appear that she didn't care. 

"To the woods, near the volcano."

Mila sighed and turned away to not watch him undress even if...

"I cannot talk while being a wolf but I can slip into your thoughts if there is something important. You have to let me in. If I force entry it will hurt. I don't know what we will encounter there or whom, so stay hidden and take this," he said handing her a spheric pendant containing a green liquid."

"What's this?"

"It will help to tone down your scent a bit because you still smell like walking sex."

"Ok," answered Mila noticing she did trust Kiril after all, at least a little bit.

"Let's go," he said before his bones started cracking and he became a utmost beautiful and frightening creature.