Moonspell (1) Werewolf Romance

22. Don't - M.

When Mila woke up the next morning it was in Erik's arms.

She looked at him and smiled. It was a first. Despite all her problems, she felt hopeful and jolly. It had been an unexpectedly beautiful ending to an awful day. The sun rays were illuminating artistically his face and chest. He was beautiful, all of him, and he had been so kind. 

Mila's hand went over his skin tracing the alpha marking. Then she planted a light kiss on his cheek.

His eyes opened slowly, reflecting the aggressive rays that gave them a beautiful glimmer. Mila's hand continued caressing his body, following the lines of his abs. She smiled, giddy at the thought of what might follow. 

"Don't," he said curtly. His eyes shone with magic and he grabbed her wrist. 

"Why?" asked Mila bluntly, her rare-found confidence being replaced with the familiar shyness.

"I cannot sleep with you like this." His tone felt like a slap in the face. 

"Like how? You could just fine last night. Or what was it last night?" asked Mila mortified and lowered her other hand to dangerous territory.

"Stop it, Mila! Last night was... I don't know," said Erik standing up from the bed irritated and ... hard.

His words had a surprisingly hurtful effect. She was angry with herself for having been happy, hopeful, and... apparently fucking naive and delusional. 

"It looked very intentional to me and it does not look like you don't want to, it looks like you are being a coward," said Mila entering the bathroom, slamming the door, and ending their discussion.

What had just happened? She felt hurt, humiliated, stupid, and besides that incredibly sore.

The place Erik picked was fancy, minimal, and remote; that seemed to be his style. The shower Mila needed bitterly was a nice experience with those massage water outlets; she just didn't imagine she would be enjoying it alone.

Once again she was angry with herself for having been so stupid. Dasha had been saying that if a guy sleeps with you it does not mean anything most of the time. If someone was aware of how the world and men work that was Dasha. She wondered where she was and what she was doing, hoping that Kiril didn't hurt her.

Exiting the shower, Mila contemplated wearing a dress again, a teasing dress with low cleavage, but she changed her mind and settled for jeans and a sweater. It was just not like her to do that and one rejection was enough for the time being.

The sweater was nice. It felt so soft and the jeans were the first ones not bought second-hand and ill-fitting. Angel was an angel of sorts, after all, and the only one of the bunch capable to do some shopping. She had to thank him the next time she saw him, also for the nice panties Erik tore apart the night before. 

Where Erik was and what he was doing she didn't know but she was starving so she marched nonchalantly downstair.

The bodyguards were gone, but the house was not empty judging by the muffled sound of voices.

Who else is here? Michael? Angel?

Mila opened a door to what looked like a meeting room to find Erik seating at a table with a few men and one woman. Charlotte.

"Cara mia, who are you? I am Lorenzo," said a handsome man, looking and sounding Mediterranean that jumped right up from his chair when she entered.

Erik growled at him in response.

"Scusa... Ma... come é possible?/ Sorry... but how is it possible?" he said looking at Mila perplexed.