Page 20 of Devil’s Doom (Jaga and the Devil #2)

Chapter twenty

Power

There’s no stopping the cackle. Through tears of laughter, I watch as Woland yanks the upir woman’s hair, making her fall on her ass. When she sees him, her face turns into a mask of terror, her eyes huge, lips shaking as they stutter over words she’s unable to say.

The other woman falls to her knees, prostrating herself on the ground in front of him. Woland pays her no mind. He watches the terror-stricken upir at his hooves for a moment, then raises his arm slowly. His shadows rush to wrap around her until she disappears in the slithering mass of dark magic. He clenches his fist, and the woman bellows an ear-splitting scream of pure agony.

When his palm opens and his shadows retreat, I gasp in shock. The woman is crushed . Her ribs are broken in many places, some of them poking out. She’s very clearly dead, her body a gruesome sight of bloody pulp and jagged bones.

“Clean this up,” Woland says in a low, beastly tone, directing the order at the other upir, who shakes on the floor, sobbing.

I’m no longer laughing. My voice is trapped in my throat, Woland’s easy cruelty shocking when directed at one of his followers. And for what? Because she threatened me? His reaction is so excessive, and yet, so in character.

When he looks at me again, something flashes in his eyes, his face tight and angry.

“Come.”

It doesn’t even cross my mind to disobey. As he turns and walks down the corridor, I follow, my hands numb, my heart racing. We walk through the crowded areas, people stopping to bow when he passes, their eyes flickering curiously to me. I keep my gaze down, feeling hollow and defeated. No longer burning with anger and hurt, I am nauseous, a seed of terror burrowing in the pit of my stomach.

Gods, I just want to get through this and be alone. Just like back home, when I was hated and feared. There, at least, I had my cottage to lock myself in when the hate became too much.

Foolishly, I thought it would be different here, but it seems wherever I go, I can’t escape this fate. I thought my magic was the problem back in the mortal world, but maybe I was wrong. Maybe the problem is simply—me.

Woland’s quarters, the rock bottom, are far from the crowded common areas. It takes us over ten minutes to get there, and in that time, the devil doesn’t look at me once. His tail swings with tension, and whatever is going to happen, I know it won’t be good.

When the door shuts behind us, he walks to a low table surrounded by large, padded benches. A fireplace bursts to life, golden light orbs turning on. At the snap of his fingers, his throne floats over, and Woland sits down.

That’s when he finally looks at me.

“I took the long way to give you time. Have you calmed down?” he asks in a voice so cold, it sends chills down my back.

“Have you ?” I counter, folding my arms.

My legs shake, but my long dress hides it. It takes an effort to keep my spine straight. I arrest a longing glance toward the depths of the cavern where I know his bed is, since I know looking forward to a nap is likely a grave mistake. He’ll have me sleeping on the floor like a dog, or worse.

Woland’s nostrils flare as he leans back, his head falling onto the backrest while he watches me with hooded eyes.

“No. I’m all kinds of pissed. Today has been challenging, to say the least, and it’s not even evening. Sit down.”

I’m surprised by his candor. Remembering what he did at the meal earlier, I gingerly approach a bench, my eyes on him. Woland waves a hand, huffing wearily.

“Sit. We’re alone and I don’t have the energy to fight you on trivialities. Want some wine?”

“Yes.”

Another hand wave has a crystal pitcher and two goblets flying toward us. They hover in the air by his side, the wine pouring itself. One goblet flies into my hand, and I take a sip. My brow furrows.

“It tastes like my dewberry wine,” I say in confusion.

“I developed a preference for it,” the devil says, drinking deeply. “Now. Let’s start with the most important thing. I’m going to forgive you once, because I know you have no experience with true power. You spent your short life in a backward village on the fringes of the civilized world, and it would be beastly of me to expect you not to show it.”

I bristle, clenching my fingers around my goblet. Woland watches me, eyebrow raised. An insult sits on the tip of my tongue, but I swallow it with difficulty, taking another sip. When I say nothing, he nods once in tacit approval.

“Right now, it doesn’t matter what you say about me. Reputation, remember? Mine has been carefully cultivated throughout centuries, while yours is a joke. My people regard you as a hotheaded traitor and my whore of the month. That’s why no one will believe I let you drink my blood. They think they know better.”

I regard him with a frown as he takes another deep drink, his shoulders relaxing with a weary exhale.

This isn’t what I thought would happen. I expected him to rage and humiliate me further, but this seems more like a lesson. His insults aren’t meant to offend me, and as I shove my hurt out of the way, I realize he’s right.

No one respects me here, and they have their reasons.

“But?” I ask.

He tops off his goblet, black claws clicking against the crystal.

“But I know you. You are strong, capable, and you learn fast. You have sharp instincts when it comes to people. You will prove them wrong, and when that happens, I won’t allow you to speak of me the way you just did. These are narrow-minded people, Jaga. They have certain expectations of what power and authority mean. A god who lets a woman have his blood does not meet those expectations, and if you keep running your mouth, it might weaken my position. Now that you’re on my side, try not to work against me.”

He drains his goblet and sends it away, his gaze lingering on my face. I am flabbergasted. Not only does he sound reasonable, explaining things patiently for my sake, he’s also very open about how I can hurt his interests. It’s a trap, but I don’t see the trick.

“Am I on your side, though?” I ask, considering his words. “And you? Are you on my side?”

His sharp, white teeth flash in a roguish smile. “Had it been anyone else boasting they made me their blood bag, I would have snapped their spine in half. Consider my restraint to be proof of my loyalty. I am on your side as long as you don’t hurt my goals. As for you, my love, answer that yourself. Why are you here?”

I raise my eyebrows, watching him with utter disbelief. “Because you won’t let me leave.”

He laughs, his eyes crinkled, the sound rich and happy. The skin on my nape prickles, and I take a hasty sip of wine. Woland’s laughter is my weakness, especially when it’s so unbridled and honest.

When he speaks, warm amusement lingers in his voice. “Are you chained to the floor like you expected? No. Are your hands bound? Also no, although if you’d like to explore rope play with me, just say the word. I am more than capable.”

He winks, and I take a heavy breath, doing my best to look unimpressed.

“And now that they know you’re my consort, no one will stop you if you try to leave. I’ll even promise not to hurt your friends if you do.”

“I find that hard to believe.”

He laughs again. “I’m serious. But please, consider the things you’d throw away by leaving. I’m giving you the chance to learn real battle magic, to go to war at my side, and make a difference in the world. I have witches and warlocks here who know secrets hidden from most. One of them might tell you how to travel to the past, in case you’re still interested.”

I hiss under my breath, shooting him an angry look. I don’t believe it for a second—he’s teasing me with what he knows I want the most. And yet, I can’t afford to discount that completely. I’ve neglected my goal long enough, and I’m not getting any younger.

“And if I leave right now? Despite all the things you tempt me with?” I ask, jutting my chin in a challenge. “Will you truly let me go?”

He inclines his head with a knowing smile. “I don’t think you’ll go. After all, you want to stay by my side despite everything I did. You missed me so much, you crafted the illusion of my face every night before bed. Well, pet. Now you get to have the real thing.”

Rage stiffens my spine when he throws my words in my face. I said them because he begged me, but now, he makes it sound as if I am the desperate one.

“The next time you beg me, you’d better do it on your knees,” I say through clenched teeth.

He nods with a grin, completely unfazed. “I already did, remember? We had so much fun after that.”

Yes, I remember. He cheated and lied, tricking me into sucking his cock because I swung at him with a knife when he knelt at my feet. Now, as he sits more comfortably, spreading his thighs, my anger gives way to confusion. Just like when I wrapped my hands around his throat, Woland doesn’t seem to mind when I tell him to kneel. He doesn’t mind feeding me his blood, either—as long as other people don’t know about it.

“You care about power a lot,” I say slowly. “But if you kneel for somebody, you’re powerless, aren’t you?”

He snorts softly, running his hand along his tail that rests on his muscular thigh.

“Love, a truly powerful man doesn’t mind being on his knees, because no position ever limits him. Many people don’t understand it, but if I fall to my knees in front of you, I am still stronger. I’m still in control. Make sure you remember that the next time you tell others about what we do in private.”

I watch him with a frown, considering our conversation, but Woland seems to be done with it. When he raises his arms over his head, yawning widely, I snort with a surprised laughter.

The bed and eating were strange enough, but the yawn makes him seem utterly domestic. I realize with a jolt he feels comfortable around me. This is the devil without his mask on, and it confuses me even more than his behavior earlier.

It’s like another layer of him has peeled away to show more depth underneath. I asked him once to be just one thing, and he laughed at me. Maybe if a person lives as long as he does, complexity is inevitable. Maybe simplicity bores him.

“I’d love to take you to bed,” he sighs, stretching his neck. “But that will take hours, and I’ve neglected my tasks long enough. Think about what I said, will you? Your training starts tomorrow. You’ll have a chance to show off.”

“Why are you so insistent I learn?” I ask.

It’s one thing to keep me here so he can control me, but giving me tools to get stronger is an unexpected show of trust. Especially since he seems to think highly of me. Woland’s words of praise, though not meant to flatter, feed a hungry, neglected place inside me.

He’s right. I am capable and strong. I will have his people’s respect if I try hard enough.

“You wanted to fight,” Woland says with a shrug. “You said you hate what Perun is doing. We both know there is a way for you to bring him down this very second, but since you won’t let me claim you, you’ll have to contribute in other ways.”

My stomach churns when I realize he’s right. Everything I saw out there, the deadly tolls, the rapes, the rule of terror, will end—if I let Woland claim me, giving him the power to win against Perun.

But will Woland be any better? Just today, he crushed his loyal follower without hesitation or mercy, and for what? Because she said the wrong thing. How is that different from Perun’s daily heretic trials?

“How would your rule be different from Perun’s if you won?” I ask, swirling the wine in my goblet to fool him into thinking I’m not that eager to know.

“I’d bring the fence down,” Woland says easily. “I’d let the people of Slawa speak freely, too. The daily heresy trials would end, as would the weather tantrums. Do you know every time Perun is furious, a storm rolls over the land, killing at least a dozen people? Sometimes, it happens once every two months or so. At other times, there’s a storm every week, especially when Mokosz gets frisky with other gods. I will bring an end to that.”

“Hm.” I take another small sip, marveling at the tart, fresh taste. It’s exactly like my wine, as if I made it myself. “You speak of things that would end, but what would you start? Surely you have ideas—what to add, how to make things better.”

“Let’s wait and see,” he says, his eyes glittering. “Any chance you might suck my cock before I leave?”

Desire coils in my lower belly. I shake my head.

“Pity.” Woland gets up, stretching with a deep groan of pleasure. “Knock on the bath three times, and it will fill with water. If you’re hungry, knock on the dining table. And for fuck’s sake, stay here for now. That was enough trouble for one day. Draga will come to get you tomorrow morning.”

“When will you be back?” I ask, standing, too.

He gives me a cunning smile. “What, are you going to miss me? That’s adorable.”

“No. I want to know how much peace I’ll have before you come back.”

His smile grows wolfish. He comes over in two long strides and takes my chin between finger and thumb, leaning in. His lips stop just shy of mine.

“Then I won’t tell you. Stay sharp, love. I could be back any minute.”

His shadows surge up, hiding him from view. As the last trace of his breath caresses my unkissed lips, he’s already gone.