Page 27 of Devil’s Doom (Jaga and the Devil #2)

Chapter twenty-seven

Please

My fear only lasts a moment, replaced by hot anger.

“This is a joke,” I growl, staring at the frozen figure of Woland. Even though he doesn’t move, the cloud of shadows around him grows with every moment. “I can’t believe it.”

“He is very jealous of your symmetrical body,” Chors says gravely.

I look up, finding his amused gaze studying my face. I release a heavy breath and try to smile.

“Thank you for coming to see me. I hope we can finish our conversation another time.”

He traces my eyebrow with his thumb, his head tilted to the side. “Yes. I haven’t really pinpointed the source of your appeal yet. I’d like to examine you in more detail.”

“So it’s not the symmetry?” I ask with a small huff of laughter. “Pity. That would be so easy to fix. I could get a scar on one side of my face, or lose the tip of one finger. My symmetry would be gone.”

Chors runs his fingers down my cheek, as if imagining my face with a scar. “I don’t think that will mar your appeal,” he says finally. “Goodbye.”

And just like that, he disappears. I blink, the night so much darker with his silver light gone. At the bank, water splashes. Woland wades in to where I stand.

I fold my arms on my chest to cover myself. I was generous with Chors, letting him see me, but Woland doesn’t deserve it. He discarded me so easily every day for the past month, and my resentment and fury have festered far too long to be brushed aside.

“You said I was free to leave,” I hiss when he stops in front of me, so tall, I have to crane my neck to see him. Chors was much more comfortable to look at.

“I also said I would kill the next man you lay with,” he grits out through clenched teeth.

I shrug. I have too much scorn for him to treat his words as more than petulant threats. Besides, he can’t really kill Chors. All gods are immortal.

“A woman has needs, and you weren’t there to meet mine,” I say archly.

I could explain that nothing happened between me and Chors, but I’d rather just poke the devil and see what happens. When Woland releases a low, threatening sound, reaching for my throat, I send a current of magic to my palm and slap his hand away with force.

“No. I’m done with your games.”

I circle around him, just out of his arms’ reach. Woland’s shadows shoot out to stop me, but they don’t touch my skin. The pendant hiding under my collarbones pulses with a reddish light. He moves with impatience, his long legs carrying him too close for comfort.

“We aren’t done talking.”

He grabs my wrist, tugging me back. I smirk and grow spikes. Woland lets go with a grunt, and I make it to the bank unobstructed. He follows, water splashing with his angry steps.

“Jaga. We aren’t done.”

I snort with a harsh laughter. “No, dear. You aren’t done, but I’m going. If you want to talk to me, you’ll have to wait a month. I’ll see you on winter solstice if I have time.”

I don’t bother with drying myself, just shrug on my shirt to cover my nakedness. Woland comes closer, watching me with belligerent eyes, but he doesn’t try to touch me. I dress fast, my movements jerky with fury.

When I’m ready, I grab my bag and turn away. Not toward Slawa, but the forest.

“Goodbye.”

“You’re not going anywhere.” He appears in my path in a whirlwind of shadows, barring my way.

“So that’s how much your word is worth?” I mock him. “And you want to rule Slawa? Wake up! You can’t even keep your own promises. You will be just as bad as Perun if not worse.”

His lips purse, his tail twitching with tension. I snort out a humorless laugh, seeing his mulish expression. He is so obstinate, yet he doesn’t even know his own mind. Gods, how I hate him.

Woland looks away, his jaw working. Finally, he takes one step to the side, his brows pulled low over his eyes. “I can keep my word.”

“Splendid.”

I set out for the forest, giving him a wide berth. As I leave him behind, triumphant that I got my way, a tiny ache blooms in my heart when I realize he will truly let me go. It was just like he said. When he got me, and I sat tightly in his room just as he commanded, he lost interest at once. So that’s what my appeal was—the thrill of the chase.

It wasn’t about me in the end. It was about my ability to tell him no.

When my heart wrenches with a horrible, tearing pain, I trap a sob in my throat and quicken my steps. Gods, how I hate myself, even more than him. I’d like nothing more than to take my heart out of my chest and slap some sense into it.

It’s preposterous that I ache for someone who cares for me so little.

When a wall of shadows rises in front of me, blocking my way, I stop, doubting my eyes for a moment. Does my stupid, pining heart make me see things again?

“I’ll let you walk away if you give me back my collateral.” Woland’s quiet voice is right behind me. It vibrates with barely suppressed anger, and I realize he’s furious with himself.

He can’t do it, after all. He can’t let me go.

I turn with a contemptuous snort. “No. This is my only guarantee that I’ll have some peace. I’m not giving it back.”

His nostrils flare, hands clenched into fists at his sides. For the first time since I met him, Woland looks uncertain, his eyes jumping from the glow nestled in the hollow of my throat to my bag, and up to my eyes.

“Are we going to just stand here?” I mock him, wrestling with my stupid heart that wants me to comfort him, of all things. I should rip it out and give Wera to eat.

“I thought I could do this,” Woland says quietly, as if to himself. “A full month. I knew you were there, well within my reach, and still, I didn’t touch you. I really thought it was done.”

When he looks up, I let out a noise of surprise. He’s desperate, eyes burning bright, face tense with helplessness.

“What did you do to me?” he asks, angry yet pleading. “Undo it. Undo it now!”

I shake my head in confusion. “What do you mean? I didn’t do anything to you. It’s you who does things to me, over and over. I begged you to leave me alone, didn’t I? But you didn’t. So if you’re suffering, good. Finally, some consequences for the devil.”

He takes a deep breath and straightens, regaining some control.

“Not just for me,” he says slowly. “As you see, I am unable to let you leave. You might have gotten stronger, but you’re still no match for me. That’s it, then. We’re going back.”

He takes a step toward me, his hoof sinking in the dewy grass. I stumble back.

“No. I won’t be trapped in your rabbit warren, especially when you won’t even deign to see me. You can’t make me.”

He stretches one side of his neck, walking steadily closer, while I retreat, refusing to let him out of my sight.

“Actually, I can, but I’d rather you came willingly. Was my absence the problem? I’ll be more accessible.”

I gape at him, taken aback by the sudden change in his manner. He’s collected again, his eyes cold as he awaits my answer.

“Your absence was a blessing,” I hiss through clenched teeth, lying right into the liar’s face. “And the problem is you. Goodbye.”

His shadows rise around us, illusive walls of soft, downy darkness. I stop and grit my teeth, knowing from experience this space outside time is impossible to escape. Woland comes closer, and I look away, breathing hard with helpless fury.

“Why did you come to see Chors?” he asks, his voice mild.

When I don’t answer, he gently cups my cheeks in his palms. I expect another choking attempt, since my burned-off hair is too short to grab now. His gentleness surprises me, and I don’t push him away.

“Please, tell me,” he says, guiding my face up to look at him.

“No,” I grit out when our eyes meet. I hold my heart in an iron fist, ignoring its frantic beating that urges me to just look at him. His face is so handsome, eyes inquisitive, mouth soft. I don’t know this Woland. Something changed between us, and I am unmoored, desperate for an anchor. Desperate enough to fall for whatever lie he’s telling me with that tender expression and gentle thumbs that slowly brush my cheeks.

He looks puzzled. “No? But I said please. I was polite.”

I snort hard, unable to help myself. “And? Politeness doesn’t entitle you to anything.”

The devil exhales in frustration, the familiar rage stirring in his eyes, even though his hold remains gentle.

“I thought it would, with you. Everything that works on my subjects, you turn against me. I thought I’d try something else, but you defy that, as well. What should I do, then?”

“This is unbelievable,” I mutter, stifling a ridiculous urge to laugh. “Or it would be, if I didn’t know you’re as arrogant as you are powerful. Maybe more. You’re asking me for a way that will get me to do what you want, every time you want something, isn’t it? A thing like that doesn’t exist. You should start by accepting that.”

He looks into my eyes without blinking, his brows furrowed. For a moment, I see Chors again. Somehow, Woland’s eyebrows remind me of his, perfectly shaped, thick, and expressive. I wonder if all gods are made this way—and whether my newfound obsession with eyebrows will go away once mine finally grow back to their former glory. They are still thin after being burned.

Finally, Woland speaks. “In other words, you’ll keep denying me out of spite, and you expect me to just let you. Even when the thing I want is an answer to a simple question. I can’t accept this. Why did you seek out Chors?”

I almost stomp and groan like a child. He understands nothing, and if I told him my true reason for coming here, I would risk both my future and my past.

“Because he’s pretty and I was horny.”

He doesn’t react at once. His face grows hard, the neutral mask I know so well shuttering his eyes. He studies me, finally shaking his head.

“You want me to get angry and drop it, but I won’t. Chors doesn’t fuck. He watches, but that’s it. And you—you are too smart to be led by base instincts. You didn’t even fuck me without an agenda. You had another reason to see him. What was it?”

“Why do you care so much?” I ask, exasperated. “It has nothing to do with you!”

“Because I want to know everything about you,” he says without hesitation, his claws burying in my short hair. “I got used to seeing you every day, hearing your jokes, watching you learn, and…”

He falls silent, inhaling sharply. I stare at him with utter disbelief.

“You watched me all that time.” I almost sputter, I am so indignant. “I wasn’t seeing things! You were there, every day… And you never came to talk to me, not once. Why? What is wrong with you?”

“Fuck.”

His hands drop away as he retreats, tilting his face up with a weary exhale. I glare, my clenched fists shaking. All that helpless pining, all that rage and humiliating rejection, Nienad’s stupid comments about how I wasn’t doing my job… And he was there all that time. Watching me. Listening to it all.

Woland doesn’t look down when he speaks again, his muscular throat bobbing with every word.

“Remember how I wiped the upir’s memory? I want to do it to you now, but I’m afraid you’ll sniff it out somehow, or ever worse, I’ll fucking tell you myself. Because that’s what I do now. I tell you deeply humiliating, idiotic things. It was bad enough when I did it while you slept, but this is a thousand times worse. I’ll have to go and torture some mortals later so I feel like the devil again.”

He finally looks at me, dry amusement dancing in his eyes. His smile is crooked, maybe even self-deprecating, and I have an urge to blink rapidly. I don’t understand what happened to him over that month and what all of this is supposed to mean.

“Do you expect me to thank you for not wiping my memory?” I ask, an overwhelmed cackle building in my throat.

Woland shakes his head. “Just come home with me. Please.”