11. La Naiba

Laura - Wolves Inc Office Building

Paul's gray eyes have darkened to the point of becoming pitch-black. Maybe this is what he looks like when someone pokes him more than he can handle. His wolf is furious, but this is what I want. We'll be done with this if he bites me in a fit of rage.

I look toward the window, stretching my neck for him and making it easier for the wolf to bite me. His hot breath strolls over my skin, making it crease. He sniffs me as if to see if I’m a worthy meal for his majesty.

“I like my meat raw and warm.” He licks my neck and then spits on the floor. “You’re rotten and cold.”

His words hurt me more than I thought possible. Why do I care what he thinks about me? I know what I am, and no one hates me more for that than myself. He has no right to judge me! He doesn’t know who I truly am!

“Then bite my head off and be done with it!” I yell in his face, my frustration visible for the first time.

He takes a step back. His arm remains raised like when he choked me for a few more minutes before he gradually lowers it. When he looks at the floor, he remains immobile. He glances at me again after a few seconds. His eyes have become gray once again, with little twinkles when the light falls on them.

"I can't kill you even if you and my wolf both want it. One of the oldest rules is that you owe a life debt to anybody who saves your life. You saved mine when you stepped in front of the bullet. This means I'm bound to protect you for as long as I'm still alive."

I have to bite my tongue to keep myself from mentioning that I twice saved his life. But I suppose stating that will make everything worse. I can't explain how I knew Bogdan spiked the champagne.

A knock on the door saves me as Paul replies, "Come in."

By the time his scrawny secretary enters the room, he is leisurely seated in his chair as if nothing has happened here.

“Mister Mateescu, there is someone who wants to see you. He doesn’t have an appointment, but he insists you will want to receive him.”

“What’s his name?” Paul asks, arranging his crooked tie.

“Ion Corvin.”

“La naiba!” A vein on his temple throbs and another one on his neck is more visible now than when I made him mad. "Irina, wait two minutes and then send him in."

(“la naiba” or “la dracu” literally means the devil, but in Romanian is a common curse, something between “damn” and “fuck”, the closest idiom would be “to hell with it” or “goddammit”)

The blinds close when Paul presses a button on a little remote control. When the light in the room dims, all of the colors around me become more vibrant. His black hair gleams in a manner I've never seen before. There's a speck of green in his right pupil, a quirk befitting the main character of a romance novel.

I now see him as the attractive man that the media portrays him to be. It’s so odd that no matter how hard I try, I’m still a creature of the night. The true beauty around me shines only in the dark.

“Do you know Ion Corvin?” Paul asks, taking me out of my stupid schoolgirl gawking.

"Not personally." I remain in the same spot, my back against the wall he pushed me into. "But everybody knows he’s a member of the Council, the one responsible for diplomacy and covering everything through glamour and words."

"I've met him a few times." Paul's eyes appear to shoot daggers at me. "I'll do the talking this time, and I mean it. Not at all like during the party."

The first thought that comes to me is to respond, 'So you didn't mean it at the party.' But I keep it to myself. This is not the time to lash out. Between Paul and Ion, I'd choose the wolf every time. If I could go back in time, I would have chosen a different day to start working here. Or, better yet, I'd want to be invisible instead of having the ability to read people's minds.

Through the door enters a man of medium height, well-built, with a strong neck, shimmering brown hair, large eyes, and an air of extreme seriousness in the way he walks toward the desk. Ion sits down in front of Paul, not sparing me a single glance. The strigoi have long regarded me as a pariah.

“Glad to see you again, Paul.” The man’s mustache goes up and down along with his lips as he speaks, its ends pointing up toward the ceiling.

“You’ve returned sooner than expected.” Paul looks relaxed as if this is his daily job. I wonder how he does it.

“Something unexpected occurred and the Council requires your…” Ion clicks his tongue in displeasure as if the word he seeks would make him sick. “... permission.”

Paul simply raises his eyebrows, awaiting further information. The thoughts that permeate from Ion aren’t about us, and I can sense no desire to kill. I don’t go any further than that because I’m afraid a strigoi of his caliber can feel me lurking inside his mind.

“There might be a rogue strigoi, going out on a rampage. The Council doesn’t approve any of this as per our accord. We tracked the miscreant into the Retezat Godeanu region, Valcan mountains to be exact.”

Paul clenched his teeth. The way his cheek throbs under the pressure of his jaw indicates that he is not pleased with the news. "That is the area of Oltenia's pack."

“Yes, we know.” Ion nods. “That’s why we stopped at the boundary. I was already on my way to ask for your permission to enter the grounds when peculiar news reached me: Paul Mateescu is quite intimate with a certain strigoi.”

I barely manage to keep myself still and not flinch when Ion’s piercing eyes turn toward me. Of course, he knew I was there all along, but unimportant until now.

"Since she already has your approval, I'll delegate the responsibility of discovering the strigoi to her." He moves his gaze to Paul. "She's still one of us."

“Why would I sanction the hunt?” Paul raises his chin, waiting for the answer.

"Ten girls between the ages of 16 and 19 have vanished, and we have cause to suspect he is killing them. This is a danger to our entire society."

As I hear this, a flood of memories surges into my mind. I can see my blood streaming from my slashed throat, my entire future burned to the ground to become a strigoi.

Paul opens his mouth to answer, but I can’t have him refusing this mission. Those girls can still be out there, struggling inside of a coffin. I'm aware that I'm projecting my past onto the present, but I can't stop myself.

I burst out before he can say anything. “I’ll do it!”