Episode 9

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MIKAEL'S POV

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I let my gaze burn into her flesh. Yet, she remains unfazed. Does she not know that I hate churning out fibres of discourse over again when I'd previously set them free?

I'm not one to mince words or, in specificity to this case, requests. Nor am I one to repeat them. But in her silence, I'm forced to. It's an unpleasant surprise that she just as comfortably keeps her lips sealed.

"Saskia!" She sends me a look I find to be indecipherable. It amazes me how she manages to drag out my anger by its tail no matter how well I bury it from her reach. "Answer me." My hand squeezes hard on her arm. But at her low gasp, I release her completely from my grasp.

The car's windscreen tells me all that I need to know. In my reflection, I catch my eyes glowing amber. It's only a matter of time before he rises. "Hold still." I press against the beast stirring in me.

He's been half-asleep for the entire day. But he knows when to take action. The odious smell of the blood-suckers awakened him. And there is no doubt that her insolence is grating hard on him.

If there's one thing my wolf values, it's respect. I earned his when I defeated him in our century-long battle for the upper hand. Beforehand, he was never complacent. Not until I warred him into the utmost submission a purebred wolf—descent from the first wolves blessed by the goddess with intelligence—could endure.

Though I relate to him as a close friend or even a brother, we both know I have the upper hand.

Against my wishes, he ignores my orders. I have no choice but to call him by name to repress the surge in strength as he rears up his head. Only few wolves are named. And even when they are, their names are not to be toyed with as the appellations possess their own power.

["Rikal!"] I say sharply, and he snorts in defeat. His reluctance to obey does not escape my recognition, but he does the needed and starts to withdraw. ["Hold back. She's not to be hurt."] I reiterate, making certain we are on the same page.

It would be a hell of a shame if we let go of our pawn by mistake when we could let her become the more useful queen. But it's clear to me now what his silence had been. It wasn't apathy as I'd thought—the realisation clubs me upside down the head—but rather simmering hatred.

He hates the princess.

Rightly so. But even I cannot deny the reality that none of what had happened was Saskia's fault. She was not the one who destroyed the most virtuous of souls—our kindred. Nor was she the one who had hands in turning them into monsters unrecognisable by their blood. I'd gathered enough information on her to know that though not blameless, she was far from being the devil.

Back to the woman... "You've not answered my question. I believe I have been patient enough, love."

"It was a wolf."

"I know that." I pin her with a dubious look. Why is she reluctant to speak of what happened? Was the mark of her lover? A promise to return for her? "What wolf—" An angry growl knocks out the questions queuing up in my throat. It's hard to form complete sentences when my sweltering emotions are knocking me off balance. Her womanly scent, which has hijacked my senses after enveloping me like a cocoon, is not helping matters either.

"What wolf was it?" I out the damned words eventually.

"It was one that fought against me."

"Fought against you? Who is he? Where is he?" I fire one query after the other in a single breath.

"He was a rebel turned rogue." She pushes a hand through her glossy hair, and my eyes follow the curling of her fingers. Delicate and slender, they push in then pull out. That movement...is familiar. I still the wicked urges swimming to the surface of my head while fighting against shutting my eyes when, really, I dearly want to see improper images of her swimming under my eyelids.

Her hair. I want it wound around my hand while I pull on them like reigns and drive into her with a fearful force. Physically, all of her is exactly what I'd be attracted to in a woman. It's startling how perfect she is in that regard.

Admittedly, she fills me with desire. Burning, raving desire. I want her to feel so too. I've seen her in ecstasy once; I crave to see it again when I bury myself in her. This time, without the smog of alcohol and drugs fogging her perception.

"Mikael?" The honeyed waves of her voice lap at me, hauling my attention back into the present. Why is she so delectable? So enticing? All too beguiling?

"Where is this rebel turned rogue?" The instant I request his whereabouts, she stops digging in her hair and trains her gaze on me, a doubtful expression floating around the dark opening of her eye.

"He's dead."

Fuck. "Why? How?" I wanted to end him with my own hands.

"I killed him."

This pleases me somewhat more than any other option. It was better her than another man taking the hell-bound asshole down. "Good." I nod, still keeping a safe distance between us. It must have been insanity that pushed me to incipiently share this close propinquity with her, as I definitely regret it now.

Right now, I can hear her steady heartbeat and smell her citrusy bliss, though not as well as I did when my hands were hooked under and girding her. Regardless, it's all sending me into a state of madness.

She shifts on the car, wrapping her arms around herself, then shivers. Glad to leave my dirty thoughts behind for the most I can manage, I query: "Cold?" The chilly wind has picked up. It also transports the smells of the living dead up this way. I sniff tentatively, not at all excited to down the unpleasant stenches.

I take note that though we've waited for a fat minute, we've not been met by the dark forms themselves. The haze that circles us keeps out supernatural creatures by confusing them but not ever for this long. It seems that this set of vampires are not the smartest, which is all the more reason today should be the last day they'll behold in their living state of death.

"I'm warm enough, but not exactly." I raise both brows. Whatever in fuck's name does that mean?

"You speaking to me gibberish, darling. Make me understand. It's simple. Cold or not?"

"Cold."

As expected. I shrug off my jacket and place it over her shoulders. Her small, sexy mouth opens, and I know she is about to protest. "I'll not hear of it." I deadpan. But then she starts to peel it from over herself. "Keep it on. Do not play games with me, love." When will she ever stop trying to go against me?

She exhales then sighs exhaustedly as if I were a pest. A nuisance she is forced to put up with. I ought to force that mouth full with something else other than her silent complaints. "The vampires...how much farther away from here are they?"

"Over a hundred metres away." They could be here in a flash, but they are as dense as bricks. "Give or take, that is."

"Alright." I watch her keenly after my announcement. Nothing changes. Her heart rate does not speed up, a sign of alarm or trepidation. She instead focuses on stuffing her arms into the jacket. It dwarfs her, and I have to immure the defiant chuckle tickling my windpipe. How funny she looks. I could watch her waddle around in it for hours without tiring.

My Luna amuses me.