Don't look at him, don't look at him!

Mila walked angrily inside the house with Kiril following her close by. 

The house owner and his son screamed and went hiding when they saw the huge white wolf marching into their home.

"Why don't you want to look at me, Milena?" asked Kiril.

"Get the fuck out of my mind!" she screamed, shoving him out violently, despite the huge pain that gesture caused her, and slammed the door to the bedroom shut.

She sank onto the bed and started sobbing, long and heartbreaking letting the pain sink in, pain that her life was aimless, the people she cared about were hurt and her love gone. It must have been minutes or hours; she lost track of time just looking out the window at the moonless sky and hurting so bad she wanted to rip her own heart out just to not feel anything anymore.

She didn't hear the door open and close, neither did she hear his steps; she just felt Kiril's weight on the mattress and his arms slipping around her and hugging her from behind.

In her anger, she wanted to shove him away but just lacked the strength so she let her body loose in his embrace and her mind wide open so his magic could slip in and soothe her.

"What are you doing?" she whispered.

"What does it look like I am doing?" he answered and his voice was like velvet, too smooth to not enjoy even a little bit. 

"I, I don't know. Do you want to fuck me?"

"Not right now; now I only want to comfort you," he said resting his chin on her shoulder.

His scent invaded her nostrils, maybe bergamot and lilies. It was heavy and mysterious, just like Kiril himself.

"Though if you want us to sleep together..." he said, caressing the back of her neck with his lips, slow and smooth until he reached her ear.

"I don't," answered Mila quickly but didn't move away.

"Me neither. I prefer it to take place when there is no danger of you calling me Erik when you orgasm."

"How generous of you; too bad it will never happen," said Mila. She wanted to sound sarcastic but her voice was just a tired whisper.

"Don't be rude, little doe."  Kiril stood up, moved over her, and pressed one of her shoulders on the mattress forcing her to turn and face him.

His grip on her mind suddenly tighter and she couldn't move her body anymore.

Smirking, seeing the fear in her eyes he loosened the buttons of her black shirt one by one and moved his fingers over Erik's marking. Mila smothered a hiss. His hand moved higher until it reached one of her breasts with the already hard nipple.

"Mila, if I would want to fuck you I could and I am certain you would enjoy it. I can smell your arousal," he said still smirking and letting her mind loose.

He was right, she was aroused, and that made her even angrier. Again in control of her body, she slapped him as hard as she could across the face, so hard her palm tingled afterward.

"You are a jerk and the worst person I know," she screamed, though at that point she wasn't sure anymore if that title didn't belong to somebody else.

Continuing to smile she grabbed both her wrists, held them pressed against the mattress, and bowed down to plant a chaste kiss on her left cheek.

"Am I?" he said letting her hands loose and heading towards the door. "You headed from sad-suicidal to angry-horny. Not ideal but slightly better for everyone. My work here is done. Just let me know if you need help with... you know, " he continued still smirking and closing the door before the pillow, that Mila threw, could hit him.

Mila remembered anger but not how she fell asleep. She just realized she had been sleeping heavily when she woke up to the smell of tea and croissants.

"Don't you have any respect for privacy?" she mumbled rolling her eyes at Kiril. His hair was braided and his whole attire looked like cut out from a magazine. The previous night seemed to have helped him recover his courage and purpose.

"Some. We didn't fuck after all so I would say I do," he answered, setting the tray he was carrying on the table. "Come eat. We have stuff to do today."

"What stuff?"

"Travel, visit somebody, and do some shopping," said Kiril pouring some tea.

"Who said I want to come with you?"

"Did you hear me ask? Because I didn't. Means it's not up to you."

Mila fixated her gaze on him for a second. She just wanted to have the power to hurt him.

Standing up with a blank expression still wearing the clothes from the day before, the shirt still unbuttoned, she sat down and bit in a croissant. It was again very tasty, so simple and so tasty.

"Ok, so where do we go?"

"To see a dangerous creature."

"More dangerous than you? Are we going to see death itself?" asked Mila.

"Almost," answered Kiril very seriously.

As she didn't seem to have other clothes to wear she decided to just take a shower and wear the same ones ignoring the grass and bloodstains and the fact that she also slept in them.

"You look awful," said Kiril when he saw her.

"So?"

"I don't like it and I bet neither do you. I summoned my pack, or what's left of it. The Moon Goddess is having a ball to present Lucius and her future plans. We are going to attend."

"We? I don't plan to see that bitch's face ever again. You'll have to drag me there. And you will..." sighed Mila.

"I will. So make both our lives easier. Well, what I started saying is that we have to do some shopping."

Mila was surprised to see that Kiril drove her to an airport where they boarded a small private jet. She knew better than to protest getting in.

As soon as they set off, a young she-wolf came and served them champagne and caviar. Mila displayed her usual reluctance but had to admit it tasted great. 

When she finished, the girl came and sat on Kiril's lap. It was either that she was a professional or his lover because the confidence she showed around him was nothing  Mila had seen before with other people, wolves of humans. She was pretty with her long black hair and almond-shaped eyes but her body language displayed open disdain towards Mila.

"I am happy you are alive," said the girl leaning closer and rubbing her face affectionately against his.

"Mhm," mumbled Kiril passively looking at Mila, who rolled her eyes and averted her gaze. 

The girl leaned closer and slid her tongue along his neck.

"Not now," growled Kiril and moved away. 

"Don't be rude, dude. The girl seems to only want to blow you... in public," said Mila.

"Shut up, or I might just let her," answered Kiril grimly.

"Where are we going?"

"France."

It was nearly unbelievable to Mila how her life had changed in the past months. After not having seen anything else than her small Serbian town for twenty-three years, she was now jetting through Europe and Asia in only a few months. However, everything was such a mess that she didn't enjoy it one bit and didn't even have the slightest hope to get out of that situation alive. 

Another wolf was waiting for them in a Bentley after their landing. Mila looked circumspect at the vehicle. Kiril liked to live the good life it seemed. She concluded she liked Erik's classy but low-key attitude more. 

Ah, Erik...

They parked in front of a beautiful nineteenth-century vila. Kiril opened the door and gestured for her to enter. One long look sufficed to understand that the place was nothing short of magnificent. It looked like a period movie and was indeed a revived piece of history, from the stone walks to the thick carpets and gold fixtures.

Mila moved bewitched through the house forgetting for an instant how she got there. Climbing the stairs, she entered a beautiful bedroom, with tapestry-covered walls, Louis-Philippe furniture, and big windows covered by thick, dark blue velvet drapes. She moved one away and gasped in front of the view of the whole of Paris that she unveiled, Sacre Coeur shining majestically in close proximity.

"This is just... beautiful..." 

"Do you like it?" whispered Kiril from behind her. "You should see it in winter, or at night, or at sunset in the twenties," he said, and pressing his palms on her temples he showed her just that, and took her breath away for a split second. "Ju will bring you some clothes. Bathe, and get dressed," he said in an entirely different tone exiting the room. That one stolen moment though seemed to be a glimpse of him that wasn't horrible, cruel, or sad, just ... different and candid. 

Ju, meaning the girl who was clinging to Kiril on the plane, brought her an elegant black evening dress and matching underwear and heels.

Mila was happy that there were any underwear even if it seemed to be only a lacey shadow of something.

"Master said I should stay and help you with make-up and hair," said the girl.

"Master, huh? What a jerk," scoffed Mila.

Ju frowned.

"Fine, fine. Please do my hair and make-up. I don't want Kiril to break your fingers for not performing your duty or so."

Ju was still visibly displeased but was hiding it graciously under a smile. 

After an hour, Mila admired her most polished self in the silver-framed mirror of her expensive Belle Epoque room. 

Ju was very skilled. Her golden hair was straightened and bound together in a high ponytail and the make-up with the light smokey eyes and red lips was flawless and perfectly complementary to the short, tight, black designer dress that hugged her slender figure. 

In front of that mirror image, Mila couldn't help acknowledging that she looked as beautiful as never before but felt undeniable, crushing misery inside her. When you are walking into a likely, early death, these petty feelings don't matter so much nor are they so impactful anymore so she just sighed and walked into the hallway. 

Kiril looked at her maybe a moment too long when he walked into the room; then he recovered his usual attitude and smiled nonchalantly bowing his head slightly as a wordless greeting.  

He was dressed matching in a black tuxedo with silver embroidery. His hair was braided again on one side, and loose in flowing sliver, silk waves on the other. 

"Where are we going?" asked Mila while they were driving on the busy streets of Paris at sunset.

"To the opera."

"The fuck do we do there?"

"Visit a friend of sorts, I told you."

Mila expected the opera to be a code name but they stopped in front of the Garnier Opera and walked inside with her hand residing on his elbow.

She watched the building mesmerized. They had a side balcony reserved and for a few minutes, they sat down and listened in silence to the second act of Tristan and Isolde. Despite not speaking a word of French, the music was so extraordinarily beautiful it made her eyes water.

In the middle of the act, Kiril stood up and signaled her to follow. They exited the balcony and walked silently along the halls until they entered the changing room of the cast. There was a small door that looked very mundane but opened to a dark corridor with old stone walls and then descended hundreds of steps in the deep. The hallway was narrow and dark and ended in front of an iron-cast door with strange symbols engraved on it. With every step that walk became less mundane and more mystical. Unlike the night in the graveyard in Germany, this time Kiril walked in front of her and held her hand to guide her through the dark even if he said nothing and the frown on his face didn't change. 

"Whatever happens don't let go of my hand, ok? Whatever she asks answer truthfully; she can smell lies," said Kiril.

"I am afraid," admitted Mila.

"With reason."

Kiril knocked three times and the door opened. Surprisingly, in there was not a monster waiting for them but a blond girl, sitting on a velvet throne crocheting.

Her eyes were milky white and had no irises or pupils.

"Oh, Ice Prince, I missed you," said the girl.

Kiril didn't answer.

"Didn't you miss me?" she insisted.

"Why would I? You are always close by in a way."

"That is true," she said smiling satisfied. "Who did you bring with you? She smells ambiguous."

"You know who," said Kiril.

"Yes I do, don't I?" she giggled.

Kiril leaned over and put a wooden box in the girl's lap.

"Oh you brought me something," she said excitedly opening the box.

She took out a silver comb adorned with sapphires and pressed the object against her heart in satisfaction.

"It is just marvelous. I feel honored that you gave me the last memory from the woman you called mother. There are many things you might find interesting to know about her," she said and giggled again. "But that's a story for another time. If of course it ever comes to another time," she said again smiling genuinely amused and with an unmistakable trace of malice.

Her childish voice and strange behavior felt beyond creepy to Mila. There was the plain brutal side of the supernatural and there was her that looked like an odd angel and was certainly anything but that. 

"Well, well, this is one but you need three things from me."

"Two."

"No. Three," she countered. "Its blood, for my collection," the girl continued.

Kiril pressed his lips together.

"Don't worry, I will not hurt her... too bad at least."

A needle shot from her knitting kit into Mila's belly.

"The blood of the Fire Alpha princeling and the human. He might be too far gone though," she said.

Mila's face contorted in pain and she felt Kiril's hand gripping hers even tighter. Then the needle shot back into the girl's hand under Mila's frightened gaze.

"Ah, even more amazing than expected. I understand how strange it must feel for you," she said looking at Kiril and smiling ambiguously. 

The girl lifted a finger and the bleeding stopped. The wound closed instantly.

"And now, for the third, I want a kiss," she said looking at Kiril.

He was hesitating. It only made sense. The body of whatever demon that was still looked like a ten-year-old.

In the end, Kiril bowed over the chair, without letting Mila's hand go. The girl didn't wait and kissed him passionately on the lips painting a picture of strangeness that let Mila's blood freeze in her veins.

She whispered something in his ear and he nodded making the girl lean back in the chair and smile satisfied. After that, she made a little box appear out of the dark.

Kiril grabbed it and without saying a word then he led Mila to the door.

"We will meet again..." the girl stated in their wake. "Au revoire, Milena..."