Moonspell (1) Werewolf Romance

18. East Winds - M.

Mila never thought she would look back at her life in Serbia and think she was better off back then.

On that February morning, as she lay bloody and shivering in the backseat of a car in the middle of nowhere, hungry and literally bitten in the most unpleasant way, she felt she reached a new level of misery.

They were driving for hours, insanely fast. She didn't dare to ask where. The driver's name was Nachin. He was Kiril's Beta and apparently, he deemed her worthy of knowing his name. Those were however the only pieces of information he shared. He didn't want to tell her where they were going regardless of how many times she asked.  

Kiril was delirious and burning with fever in the backseat beside her. He was still not wearing any clothes, just a blanket that Nachin threw over him, so the situation was also factually quite uncomfortable. As if it was not enough that it creeped the living hell out of her when he literally drank her blood. The wound had closed amazingly fast, she noticed. Kiril must have been right that there was indeed something about Erik's blood.

She wondered again what he was doing, if he was angry or if he even cared. Technically she wasn't his problem anymore. He could just mind his own business and let Kiril do with her what he pleased. She also had to acknowledge that the first kidnapping was more like a visit to the spa compared to the second and Erik's behavior despite having been annoying was considerate and gentle compared to the silver-haired beast. 

The box was still in her lap. Apparently, it burned everyone that touched it except her. Whatever was in there was important to both of them. She opened the lid carefully, trying to not make any sounds. Elegantly forged silver glimmered in the sunlight. A weapon, of course, a dagger made of solid silver with various symbols engraved into the blade laid there like a riddle brimming with power.
Even for someone as ignorant to magic as Mila, it oozed energy. Something told her, that was a weapon to kill mystical creatures with... And she could stab Kiril straight in the heart with it, as he was laying there delirious.

What had she become? Horror and fear creased her brows. She was not a murderer; she was only a poor girl from Serbia trying to make some money in England. That had been a trip to hell and damnation if a few months later she had sunken so low to contemplate taking someone's life, regardless of who it was.

Everything was a nightmare she prayed to finally wake up from but there was no dawn in sight, only endless darkness.

"Take your hand off the dagger and close the box," said Kiril calmly, but his voice was vibrating with authority. "I can still snap your neck in seconds, so don't even think about doing anything."

Mila closed the box frightened. She looked at him. He was pale but not death pale anymore.

"Where are we going?"

"Home."

"Where is home? No home of mine for sure."

"Russia."

"Now you got this stupid thing; you don't need me anymore," spat Mila looking at the box. 

"I decide that, not you."

"I see you are feeling better," muttered Mila annoyed.

The driver turned his head and said something to Kiril in a language that was not Russian. Serbian is similar to Russian but you need to concentrate a bit to understand it. It seemed Nachin was quite observant. He noticed she could understand and didn't want her to. 

"We will stop in two hours after we cross the border to Russia," said Kiril. 

"Great. I have to pee," answered Mila sarcastically.