Green eyes framed by long dark lashes, lips parted sensually and somewhat familiar hands caressing his face.

It felt strange but good.

Not this again...

"Erik, it feels like you are missing me from wherever you are."

Hands coiled around his throat and he couldn't breathe.

"Erik?!"

"I told you to protect her not to fuck her, you sociopath!"

Erik's hands were not only choking but also burning.

"Erik, I didn't mean...!"

It was loud, intentional torture and Kiril felt like life was drained out of his body.

"Kiril?!" That was another voice. The one he would recognize anywhere. "Kiril, wake up!"

He finally managed to snap out of the nightmare. Mila was kneeling on the bed beside him wearing only a men's shirt.

"What? How?" They didn't go to sleep together.

"I think you had a nightmare and well... the earth started quacking and dew dripping from the air."

"Shit," sighed Kiril and sat up. He was drenched in sweat.

"Are you okay? You don't look okay," said Mila, tucking some loose strands of his disheveled hair behind his ear. She seemed genuinely concerned. She didn't seem to hate him. Not in that precise moment. "I will go make us breakfast. Hate anything? I guess you guys don't have allergies. The fridge is stuffed. Those people actually kept stuff maintained in case you will ever come by even if you didn't set foot here in twenty years? Like seriously?"

"In short, yes. I'm not a picky eater but can you cook?"

"What question is that? I grew up poor and my mom was never really keen on feeding the family; of course, I can cook. Don't expect a Michelin star though because nobody taught me; it was trial and error. The food you fed me some time ago was always really gourmet and that wine you drank looked expensive. So I am in the right to assume you are pretentious."

Kiril looked at her and tried to get that image stuck into his memory: how she was explaining everything, blushing a bit; how her long hair fell over his shirt and her eyes, moss green and human now, were sparkling pleasantly.

He smiled wholeheartedly. They had had the weirdest sex night ever. If he had a choice he would gladly undo that but you don't really have that option in life.

"I mm.."

"Know the difference between good and excellent?"

"Not quite but well enough said. More like, I appreciate the simplicity of things too, but thirty-year-old vintage from Burgundy is unmistakably my favorite. And since I always lived counting my breaths I prefer to have good things when possible."

"Fair enough. You know, something changed in you since you don't try to kill gods anymore."

Kiril lay back on the pillow and smiled.

"What?"

"Many minor things actually... Hmm... you seem more relaxed. Understandable so..." He felt Mila's gaze swiping over his body. "You don't have clothes on under that sheet?!"

It made him laugh.

"Why?"

"It's weird."

"Mila, I think we are past that point. You make me feel ugly."

"No, we are not. And you know well enough you are not ugly. Kiril, we are not lovers. What happened last night was me being desperate to survive. It doesn't mean anything romantically."

"Mhm. I mean you kiss me and tell me it's nothing romantic. Then we have sex, and you tell me again it means nothing."

Kiril couldn't help that outburst of pettiness. She didn't owe him anything and his loyalty and love didn't even depend on being reciprocated. But gods how he desired it.

"I am sorry." Mila sighed and looked at the ceiling.

"It's okay. I didn't expect us to be anything. Not out of the blue like that. I didn't even want to sleep with you. So it's fine, don't worry."

"You didn't? Are you not supposed to die to sleep with your mate and crap like that?"

"What joy does it bring if she is not into it? Besides I flew over the ocean from America, got Angel's puke all over me and at least a dozen people's blood before I got to you. What I wanted was a shower and some sleep, not unexpected sex where I frankly delivered my worse performance. We are good, Mila. Calm down. I was just being petty. But what do you want us to be?"

Mila sank on the pillow beside him still looking at the ceiling. Then she turned her face to him.

"Can we try to be friends? Like genuinely? With honesty and all that?"

"Sure can try, emphasizing the try. We can learn as we go. I didn't have a lot of friends in my life."

"I figured..." said Mila and smiled with a tiny edge of malice. He was dying for it. It meant she wasn't fearing him anymore. At all.

"So, what do friends do?"

"They are first of all always honest to each other."

"I was always honest with you Mila."

"You? The master schemer?"

"Yes. If I didn't want to tell you something I stated it as such. But I have never lied."

"Now that you say it... I remember a few instances of 'I won't tell you because I don't want to, muhaha'. Well, why didn't you? Don't tell me because it's a sin."

"I am not sure. It felt like the right thing to do. Like I am strong enough and don't need that," confessed Kiril. It was a pertinent question, one that surprised him with simplicity and a wrecking ball effect. He didn't even notice until she said it.

"Ok. So always the truth all the time. And now that I dare I might ask the right questions."

Mila stood up and smiled at him. At least her mood seemed not so bad in the given situation.

"I let you put clothes on. By the way, I might need some too. Here is only boys' stuff from probably fifty years ago."

"I'll tell Angel to bring your things or buy you some."

"Angel gets to go shopping again I am not even allowed catalog delivery. Boo-hoo."

It was supposed to be mock sadness but the tiny inflections of her voice showed that some real regret was mingled in there.

"We can go clothes shopping if you like."

"You know we can't. My kid might just casually kill anybody in that store if I get startled. And don't say the earth is anyway overpopulated or something like that, that you might breed in your cynical mind." Mila frowned but still smiled a tiny bit.

"We..." Kiril hesitated.

"Can go after? Will there be an after?"

"I hope." It was hard to say the words out loud. "But I don't know. I will try everything."

"You really don't lie. Astonishing." She smiled coldly. Her eyes looked strange, hollow, resigned, happy, and sad, everything at the same time in a confusing mix. "Get dressed." The corners of her mouth raised higher. It was a sincere smile now. Full of resignation but sincere. "You are beautiful. You always were, just also very  frightening."

Mila closed the door and Kiril sunk back on the pillow.

It was a beautiful summer day in the South of France. All the window blinds were closed because Mila still feared the sun god, that somehow didn't show himself at all the night before.

Mila wasn't entirely right that his streak of killing gods was over. Helios certainly did something to her if she was fearing him so much. Now was not the time, but after that damn baby was born he would find a better way to deal with him. 

The whole time Kiril showered and brushed his teeth his sense of hearing and smell were on alert just like the night before. He didn't want to unsettle and irritate Mila with his constant presence but he was deadly concerned when she was not in sight. 

The kitchen smelled of eggs and bacon. His relationship with food had always been strange. In the dawn of his awful childhood, food consisted of thin broth, a strange porridge with sometimes foul fruits and vegetables mixed in it, or in bad days only bones because he was to them some sort of dog. Later in the palace in Saint Petersburg, he sometimes got treats from the children of Tsar Nikolai.  There was no comparison of how his life changed after Rasputin stepped into it but the memories of cracking bones with his teeth for the marrow would likely always follow him. 

"Smells good," he said and sat down at the kitchen table. 

Mila put a plate in front of him. it wasn't an adequate plate to serve an omelet, neither was it actually an omelet but rather a mix between that and scrambled eggs, but he smiled and took a bite. 

Mila sat down to his right. 

"Who's house is this again? What poor sucker did you bully again into leaving his home to accommodate us?" 

"None."

"You said you wouldn't lie..." Mila raised an eyebrow while looking at him. 

"I am not. This is actually mine."

"Oh. How come? Then again why I am amazed that you too are filthy rich? What's your job by the way? Except for alpha, master, and crime lord."

"It is. It was a gift. And job....? What do you mean?"

"From whom? Who gifts a guy a 1900 villa? Yeah, job. Erik was a doctor. What did you do before getting into a war? What did you study?"

"Alexandra the Empress of Russia."

"Oh..." Mila's eyes opened in astonishment. "You are not joking, right?"

"No. I was a page boy at the time of their reign. Mostly to spy on them for father but she grew fond of me because I was always friendly with her son Alexei and understood him. Wasn't that hard if you could read his thoughts... Believe it or not, besides the obvious reasons why father kidnapped Erik's mother, was also to try to heal Alexei's hemophilia. She didn't get to do that... obviously"

"You know that Erik is entitled to hate you for that," said Mila. Her face was stern. 

"I know. Why do you think I never tried to befriend or corrupt him?"

"What you are saying is... incredible yet I know it's true. You live through a lot of the history I was taught in school. You are a prick but a fascinating one. So job? Never studied anything in that long ass existence of yours?"

"No." That answer mortified him, despite trying to supress that feeling. It was yet another thing Erik was better at, more suitable, more of the right choice. 

"I guess trying to rule the world is pretty time-consuming."

"Yeah..." Kiril sighed and looked away. 

"Is the food ok?"

"Yes, thank you very much."

"It's ok. But next time you have to cook. We need to establish some rules here."

"Rules?" 

"Yes, for a harmonic life together."

"Sure, let's hear."

"Sleeping separately."

"Okay, but you came into my room."

Mila frowned at his slight smirk. 

"Go on, please."

The conversation was interrupted by a doorbell. Mila froze. 

"It's just Angel."

"How do you know? Nevermind, smell, and shit. I forgot..."

Kiril walked to open the numerous locks on the door and was met by a grinning Angel. Something had happened. The day before had been plainly awful but he was grinning. 

"Did you bring the book?"

"Of course. And clothes for Mila and I manage to salvage one of the med school books from the rubble for her. I thought I would distract her but if you mind because they are a gift from Erik and all..."

"I don't. Walk with me," answered Kiril curtly. 

Angel put the bag inside and followed him obediently toward the forest behind the house. 

"By the way, nice crib. I also feel the enchantments on it. No wonder we didn't always know when you were roaming through Europe." 

When he judged they were far enough, Kiril kneeled on the ground. 

Angel gasped, looking at the blood trickling down his nose and chin. 

"Fuck... What?"

"It's nothing, just a rough night."

"Kiril, you are one of the most powerful creatures around right now. We don't get sick and you are not injured, yet you vomited blood. Is it the kid? What is that creature doing?"

"Just surviving and swallowing a lot of power. But that's only aftermath from last night. I will be fine." 

"I hope you are right, else we are all fucked. And... Kiril..." Angel hesitated. "Do you really think it's a good idea to create a bond that facilitates it to feed of you given the situation?"

"Absolutely not. But it's the only working one I have. Amy smart suggestions?"

"No... uh. I am just concerned about you."

"Well stop being. Keep the pack in check. If they are mean to you, kill them."

"Why is always the solution for everything murder. You and Samira are a match made in hell, I swear."

"How is she doing?"

"She is grosely happy with Sara. She is really cute by the way. You should see her."

"No thanks."

"Don't be like that. It's only a kid."

"Yes, and me and children should never be in the same room."

"You do know that pregnancy results in a child, don't you?"

"Are you not a smartass today?"

Angel winked nochalantly. He was in suspiciously good mood that day.

He proceeded to walk over confidently and said, "Stand still."

Kiril frowned and Angel proceeded to move his index finger over his lower lip.

"The fuck are..."

"Calm down. I just wiped the blood away you likely don't want Mila to see."

"Feeling cocky today, Angel? Did you get laid?" Kiril couldn't help getting back at him. And there it was, a little blush.

"What smoke is that?"

"Smoke?"

"Yes, from the house I guess."

"Shit. Mila."

Mila was looking frightened at a flaming and smoking waffles iron when they entered the kitchen.

Magic directed wind cleared the smoke and unplugged the iron and water extinguished the still lingering flame.

"Ups. I think I messed up. I really wanted waffles but it took some time for that thing to heat up so I started reading from the book Angel brought and kind of forgot about it. I am sorry." Mila looked up at him apologetically. Now she was wearing a pink summer dress and the color suited her so well, Kiril had to focus to remember what the issues was.

"You said you can cook. By that I didn't mean destroying half of the kitchen."

Mila looked distressed at the mess.

"Since you are alive, I am leaving, solecito. Ugh that really isn't appropriate anyone. Well, lunita."

Angel gave her a hug and left.

Kiril sighed and started evaporating the water from the floor and counters.

"I am really sorry." Mila's voice was frighteningly meak and Kiril felt suddenly an awful pang of guilt.

He turned around and cupped her face.

"My goodness, Mila. I didn't mean it. I don't care about any of this. How can you believe I do?"
Mila's eyes were almost teary and he felt like kicking himself. "Please forgive me."

"I. There is nothing to forgive."

"Then why are you so distressed?"

"Well, my parents always made a big fuss when I damaged something in the house." Her voice broke and she started crying.

It was gutting and felt awful watching her so sad, even in the face of all the atrocities he withnessed in his life.

"Mila, please stop crying." He embraced her still keeping with effort a distance and and attitude that could still be classified as non erotic and whiped her tears away gently. "Nobody will do anything to you. Me least of all people. I am really sorry. I was a jerk."

He also felt like saying that her parents were awful people, that in his very honest opinion  they deserved to die but it didn't feel like something particularly sensitive to say.

"It's ok. I just feel weird. Probably the pregnancy hormones."

Kiril moved away to not succumb to the temptation of doing other things that surely didn't qualify as chaste.

With meticulosity he gathered the waffle iron and put everything in order.

"What are you doing?" asked Mila.

"Waffles. As an appology."

"Do you know how to cook? You look like a guy that only looked presumptuously at people doing stuff for him."

He sighed inside at the remarc. "Yeah," he put on his most convincing confident smile.

It didn't matter, she was there and it was a beautiful life.

______________________________________

Cheesy and pinkish with a dash of gloom.

🧀+🍭