Kiril didn't speak on the way out of the opera, nor on their drive to an unknown second destination.
Mila was sure that room must have been something like the entry to hell and that little girl was probably some sort of Cerberus.
Touching the little pinch wound was the only thing reminding her that it had been real, not a nightmare.
After further minutes, she realized a silent Kiril was even more creepy than a talking one.
"Are you... uh... okay?" she asked timidly.
"Sure, why wouldn't I be?"
"Well, because the demon girl made you kiss her and whispered something to you that seemed to creep you out. Taking into account who you are, I cannot even begin to imagine what she said."
"We are going to fly to Rome now," said Kiril ignoring her.
"Okay... Rome... yes that makes sense," answered Mila slightly irritated by his dismissive response.
"I thought we still had time to go shopping, but we don't. Ju bought an adequate dress for you."
As if I care. As is whatever you say matters.
Rome. Rome was where Erik, rather Lucius, was.
After an hour of flying, they reached Rome. A wolf was waiting for them at the airport and drove them to the city in a black Mercedes.
The air in Rome at the beginning of May was warm and pleasant, but on a deeper level, it was filled with bad omens.
The ball was going to take place the next evening, so they still had some time to enjoy or kill.
Kiril seemed to have a preference for old villas, concluded Mila, when she saw where they were going to spend the night. They drove to a limestone building on the Adventin hill, with yet again a magnificent view of the city.
Mila recalled details of her dreams; she recalled Rome two thousand years ago, the blood, the gore, the stench...
Somewhere in that city, she was going to meet Erik again but that time she was going to walk toward him likely holding Kiril's hand. How odd everything turned out to be.
Did it make any sense? That was a futile question. It was not like she had a choice in the end.
This time, there was an elegant bathtub in the middle of the room, just before the window that framed the city so magnificently. Ju came in unaffected and turned on the water. Then she dipped scented oils and other pleasantly smelling things into the water. Then she disappeared. The girl was strange, acting like Kiril's personal... something.
The white bubbles looked and it smelled amazing. Objectively it was a nice idea, and on top of that, she was too tired to object. The sunset was setting over the city and reflecting in her bath water. Her muscles relaxed slowly.
"Penny for your thoughts?" said Kiril entering the room and sitting on the edge of the tub. He didn't give a damn about her privacy, as usual.
"Yeah, sure. Get the fuck out," answered Mila irritated.
It didn't look like Kiril planned to move through.
"What do you want?"
"To enjoy our last night together."
"So you plan on letting me go after tomorrow?" asked Mila cautiously.
"Yes. If we survive."
"It doesn't sound as if you have much hope."
"I don't."
"Fine. Then let me enjoy my last night. Alone!"
However, when he heard his steps disappearing in the distance, Mila felt a light stinge. Maybe she didn't want to spend her night alone after all, but she was not sure she wanted to spend it with him either.
At first, she forced herself to ignore those feelings, but after lying in bed for hours looking at Rome and thinking of Erik, sleep just wouldn't come. Samira also had a place on her mind and whatever she would be doing.
The little demon girl also acted as if she were pregnant, but she didn't feel pregnant. If she was, would it not be a magical baby like his daddy? Would the damn thing not kill her by shooting fire through her veins?
Everybody seemed crazy. In that brief moment, she craved normalcy so badly that it made her march into Kiril's room.
"I need your phone," she blurted out.
Kiril was not sleeping, what he was, was a sight to behold, shirtless, playing an unknown but bewildering beautiful sonata on the piano with his hair loose and eyes closed.
He stopped and looked at Mila. With a slight sigh, he tugged his hand into his pockets and handed her a phone.
Fewer protests than expected. This is so, so creepy.
Mila took it and went to her room. Stretching out on the bed, she typed Dasha's number. Dasha answered after the first ring.
"Dasha."
"Mila. You are alive. I am so happy."
"Barely or not for long. I don't know," said Mila giving her a brief summary of what happened.
"Fuck... me," screamed Dasha.
"It sounds like witchcraft and fantasy novels, but I have to believe you. So you are now in Rome with Kiril? He must be so happy..."
"Yeah, we rejoice in each other's company. It's a silent competition who is going to stab the other first while sleeping."
"I miss you, Mila. I am sorry about Erik and I am concerned about you."
"Miss you too. Everything kind of sucks. Not sure what I did to deserve it but my life was miserable anyway so no big loss there. Kiril says I am pregnant and that he can hear the baby and shit."
There was a moment of silence.
"Well, are you?"
"I don't think so."
"Think? Did you pee on a stick?"
"No, it's kinda late for that. I think it's better for the poor little sucker to go down with me, in the very unlikely situation that it actually exists."
"But it's Erik's baby too, ya know..."
"Erik is dead and his body is host to a two-thousand-year-old murderous maniac."
"I know. Just saying..."
"Listen. If I die. Not sure how you will know, but if you don't hear from me within a month assume I did. Would you please throw white roses for me in the Thames? I sort of always liked them."
"Yeah..." said Dasha snorting.
"Cool. I love you, Dasha," said Mila and hung up.
After the call, a deep silence slid over all her senses and she fell asleep waking up only the next day around noon.
Ju entered the room and opened the curtains hurrying her to take a shower. As submissive as she was when interacting with Kiril, she was quite bossy otherwise. Mila didn't oppose any of her wishes and let her paint her face and do her hair as she pleased. Red lips and smokey eyes sparkled in the mirror. Ju did an excellent job, painting away her feelings under a beautifully frivolous mask.
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.
"When the time comes." If there was something that Mila could openly admire about Kiril, it was the way he seemed to be always in control, even in situations that were explicitly meant to taunt him. Mila felt his unease, yet his voice was steady and his gaze cold.
Unlike him, she couldn't hide the things she felt and her knees felt like plugging when she bowed in front of the pair. Her eyes saw Erik and Erik alone, but Lucius was looking back at her.
"You did good," whispered Kiril when they walked away.
"What exactly?"
"You didn't puke on his shoes for one," he answered smirking. It was weird, but this nonchalant remark managed to make her relax even a bit.
"Angel, you are alive! I am so happy!" screamed Mila, yanking away from Kiril's hand to hug him, when she finally saw him among the guests.
"Muñeca, so many things happened," he said with a sad smile. Not all his injuries were healed and he looked broken in many other ways too.
"Take care, and take care of Samira," she told him, while Kiril claimed her hand back and pulled her away.
"Why did you do that? Couldn't you spare a few minutes for me to talk to someone that is actually important to me?"
"No. It is time." His voice was strange and ominous and his gaze fixed on something far away.
A beautiful song started playing. Each chord felt like a tap on her soul. Kiril's hand traveled to her shoulder.
"We shall dance," he said, taking her other hand.
The whole night he had seemed worried, barely speaking and that made her conclude astonished that she actually preferred it when he was talking.
"I can't dance. Really," she said.
"Then let me guide you. Believe me, we have to."
"Kiril. Are you okay?" she asked, surprised again she was genuinely caring.
"No Mila. I am dying, we all are, but let's die smiling." His eyes were filled with melancholy.
Mila let her mind wide open so his magic could enter. Soon after, her body was moving without her will, elegantly and daring.
Her skirt was flying graciously and her body was in perfect synchronization with his and dangerously close, so close she could feel his breath on her neck, his perfume in her nostrils, and the warmth of his body on her skin. It felt so unexpectedly, hideously, undeniably perfect, and sublimely sad.
He moved his right hand to his pocket to extract a little crystal filled with liquid.
"What is that? What are you doing do me?"
"Not what I truly desire, because we have only so little time left."
"Tell me. I don't trust you."
"That is wise; you shouldn't."
"So what are you doing?"
"Indulge a little bit before the showdown."
*
Mila was not on the dancefloor anymore but somewhere far away watching snowflakes dance outside a window.
There was a cradle in the room and a toddler with black hair and beautiful green eyes was smiling at her. She loved the child so much her heart was brimming with joy when looking at him.
An arm coiled gently around her body and tucked her into an embrace that made her exhale and relax instantly. It felt safe. She turned around to look into his eyes and ran her fingers through his soft hair. They were so beautiful, a thousand shades of happiness.
He kissed her with so much longing it took her breath away and she knew they would be making love till the sun would rise.
Everything was so perfectly blissful it couldn't do anything but hurt.
*
"What was that? That strange memory," asked Mila, while Kiril let her body slide into a perfect pirouette, their bodies still entangled and his faces so, so close.
"Just... wishful thinking... of the futile type."
He crushed the little crystal and let the content spill on Mila's cleavage.
"What is this? It smells like nothing."
He smiled and touched her face.
"To you maybe. Pheromones. A special kind," he said.
Then he looked into her eyes again.
"Maybe in another life, Milena... Now, this the final act..." Kiril pressed his lips on hers, incredibly gentle and tasting like pain and love.