Moonspell (1) Werewolf Romance

33. The silver court - M.

The dress she had to put on was spectacular, red waves of heavy silk enveloping sensuously her figure, falling to the floor in shiny folds. A strategically placed cut around her waist showed Erik's black marking. 

Mila moved her palm over the black lines. It was certainly not a coincidence. Kiril was planning something. He always did. And he never knocked when entering. 

Dressed in black, contrasting with his pale skin and silver hair, he looked seductive and dangerous, like the most beautiful Grim Reaper. 

Without saying a word he moved his claws over Mila's arm, extending the small mark from her finger all the way up to her shoulder. She didn't feel any pain, meaning he must also have been in her mind. Mila just sighed at his way of neither asking for permission nor forgiveness. She was just a doll in the end and there were too many puppeteers.

The venue itself was yet another mystery. It was taking place in the Colosseum, but by entering the door you also entered a breach in time and were led to Ancient Rome where the building was still gloriously intact.

Was Mila not scared to death, she would have been mute in wonder.

Kiril was holding her hand again, not saying a word. For a change Mila was grateful; it prevented it from shaking, and it also prevented any other wolf from getting too close to her.

When she heard Amaru's voice she couldn't help but squeeze it.

"Do you mind sharing, Kiril?" he asked. He was dressed adequately for the occasion, in elegant, yet a bit too sparkling clothes. Something had shifted in his demeanor. While in their first encounter, he seemed to act respectfully towards Kiril, now all that had vanished and his lips were stretched in a mocking smile. 

"I do," answered Kiril curtly. 

"But you see, Kiril. Now that your hopes of being Lycan King kind of dissolved, I don't think I care about your opinion anymore," answered Amaru grabbing Mila's free arm.

As unimpressed as ever, Kiril let his eyes shine and his power flow making Amaru freeze in place, while the fingers on his left arm grew claws and parted the skin on Amaru's unskared cheek so deep till teeth and bone shone among the red. 

"I warned you," he said simply leading Mila away.

Leaning over he whispered in her ear calmy, "We have to officially bow to the goddess and her consort. Are you ready?"

"No, I am not, but carry on..." Kiril squeezed her hand lightly. 

The goddess was wearing a silver dress in tone with her ethereal being. She was once again beautiful and nauseatingly happy holding Lucius' hand.

Regardless of who he was, Mila could see only Erik smiling gallantly and coldly until their eyes met by accident and the corners of his lips twitched almost involuntarily into a genuine smile. She could swear something moved in her that very second.

But she could not dwell on the feeling for long, because her attention was caught by Michael who bowed in front of the throne holding Charlotte's hand.

Charlotte's beautiful face was full of scars and one eye was missing, but what made the biggest impression on Mila, was the other eye brimming with tears when she kneeled in front of what Erik had become.

To her left, advancing in small insecure steps,  was Samira, dead-faced leaning on Akin's arm. 

"Kiril Grigorievici Rasputin, warden of the Asian continent and ..." said the goddess smiling her cold beautiful smile.

"Milena, my human mate."

"Well then you should claim her as your Luna," said Selene with the same icy smile.