Moon Goddess (2) Werewolf Romance

01. When in Rome - Erik

"You are naive to think that Erik. Not that I care about your opinion but everything would have gone down similar, with or without me. And without me, Lucius' soul would still be in your body, you ungrateful prick. But maybe it would have been better in some way. I would still be in the future, a powerful Alpha. We would enslave humankind but who cares. And Mila would still be alive, as my paramour."

That was not the best choice of words or facts because Erik couldn't hold his anger back anymore and jumped up to punch him in the face. Everything was a frenzy of anger, pain, and bloodlust.

Erik felt he was stronger than Kiril, as Kiril still didn't heal completely after the last fight. He had been too proud to ask and Erik had been too angry to offer to heal him, before it turned out none of them had any power left.

He could kill him right there, his supposed arch-enemy, but as much as he resented him, his chances of getting back to the future and finding Mila were better with than without him.

He sighed and extended his hand.

"Stand up..." said Erik looking away reluctantly.

Kiril slapped his hand away and laid on his back.

"You seem to still have your power since you set unconsciously that stable on fire, but it is sealed somewhere and the same should be valid for mine. However, as hard as I try I cannot channel anything.
Why do you think Lucius could or would help us?"

"I don't think anything, but we need someone with strong magic to be able to breach space and time for us. What other options do we have?"

"Here and now, I have no fucking idea. And I didn't practice Latin for ages," huffed Kiril.

"Excetra, flagitium hominis, malus nequamque/ malicious, disgraceful man, horrible jerk. Should I continue with the refresher, they all fit you," said Erik mockingly.

"In malam crocem, Erik. As in, fuck off asshole."

It was strange how sleep came that night as they laid there, angry, hungry and hopeless on the hard red soil of the Roman hills.

Everything ached when Erik woke up in the morning, reminding him of his days as a soldier.

Anima Mundis had splintered into pieces after Lucius was sent to hell, which also meant they had no weapon whatsoever. Unfortunately, they didn't have claws and fangs either. Again being human was really, really inconvenient.

"Kiril, wake up, I hear footsteps," whispered Erik and stood up slowly.

It was too late, they were already surrounded by soldiers.

"Nos sumus Centuriae Quintae Macedoniae, deditionem, barbaros aut fures!/ We are Centuria Quinta Macedonica, surrender, barbarians or thieves!"

Erik and Kiril were up, back to back cursing each in their own language.

"Centurie, meaning a hundred fucking men. Fight or flight?" asked Erik eyeing Kiril.

"We cannot flee, they are everywhere. Try not to die, Erik."

A hundred men, a hundred armed, trained Roman soldiers. As wolves, they would have finished them without breaking a sweat. Kiril was a good fighter; he had seen him. He had even been foolish and brave enough to face Lucius in open battle. Bur now, as humans, it was likely they would not survive.

There was not much time to weigh out chances between clicking spears and swords. Apparently, agility and stamina were still good, as good as they could be for a human.