46. La vie en rose - Kiril

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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."

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