Moonspell (1) Werewolf Romance

30. Among the ashes - M.

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.