Page 28 of Devil’s Doom (Jaga and the Devil #2)

Chapter twenty-eight

Consort

I like him so much more when he asks, and yet, I have to remind myself it’s no different from a brutish demand. Woland expects me to say yes to his “please”, and if I don’t, he’ll use force to get his way.

But I decide to test him. Maybe I’m wrong. Maybe whatever happened to him during this bizarre month taught him some respect for other people’s wishes.

“I have something to do,” I say slowly, watching him. “But if you let me go, I’ll promise to come back in a few days.”

His nostrils flare. “It’s not good enough.”

When his shadows disperse, I realize we’re back in his dungeon at the rock bottom of the rebel base, the space lit with just a few golden orbs, the table laid. My shoulders slump in defeat, and I drop my bag with a curse. All that walking, and for what? Woland can trap me with a thought.

“I’ll make it up to you,” he says, golden eyes glittering. “Whatever you want.”

“Put me back where you found me,” I say bitterly, turning away. “I don’t want anything else.”

He doesn’t move when I go over to check on my vipers, still trapped in their orbs. They watch me with wary eyes, but they seem calmer. I should probably let them out, or maybe I can train them to be my little protectors. I’d wear them wrapped around my arms under my clothes, and if Woland came near, I’d tell them to bite.

“I saw how you dealt with that curse yesterday,” Woland says. “It surprised me. I expected you to wait until sunset to treat that chochol, but you chose to suffer instead. Why?”

I’d like nothing more than to be silent, but I’m too angry for that. “The poor boy spent a long time in pain for no fucking reason. Why did you put such a stupid curse on him, anyway?”

“He spoke badly of you. I taught him a lesson.”

I turn fast, glaring at him. “Nienad said he failed to get out of your way. And what do you mean, he spoke badly of me? Who cares? Everyone here talks shit behind my back. Your punishment punished me, too, since I was the one to treat him.”

“Well, the curse was clearly designed to make him suffer and stop you from healing him. It’s your fault for not minding my warning.”

“No, it was not clear!” I explode, the vipers beginning to slither in agitation. “I was convinced it was just a petty cruelty you carelessly threw in because you were bored!”

He shakes his head with an infuriating snort of amusement. “Love, I am never carelessly cruel. Every time I cause pain and suffering, it’s for a clear purpose. Perun is the one who throws tantrums. My every move is calculated.”

He has no right to sound so pleased with himself saying things like that, but after spending some time among his people, I understand it. Cold cruelty is definitely appreciated here, as is magical power.

“Calculated,” I mutter, conjuring water for my belladonna. “Kindly calculate yourself out of this room, then. I don’t want to see you.”

“But I want to see you,” he says smoothly, his hooves thudding over the stone floor as he comes closer. “And since my absence made you leave me, I won’t make the same mistake again. See, Jaga? Even the devil learns. Come now. Let’s make up. I was celibate for over a month, and I deserve a reward.”

A reward. Bastard.

I decide there and then that I am done with him. Keeping my face averted, I do my best to prune hostility out of my voice.

“Congratulations, you won me over. I changed my mind. You can make up for everything.”

He stops behind me, so close, I feel his body heat caress my back.

“Of course. What can I do for you, love?”

I force my jaw to unclench and smile to make my voice sound pleasant.

“I’m tired. I’d like you to draw me a fragrant bath, but make it truly special. I got used to your luxuries down here. So go above and beyond, if you truly want to atone. And to be honest, I’d like the bath space to be cozier.”

He lays his large palms on my shoulders, squeezing once. I grit my teeth and don’t recoil.

“As you wish.”

As soon as he disappears in the bathroom, I get to work. Aiding myself with magic, I dig out a large piece of the belladonna root. Using charms Nienad taught me, I clean it fast and extract the juice. It glitters in the light of the orbs, so innocent, yet so deadly.

I send it into Woland’s goblet, which sits by his place at the head of the table. It drops into his wine with a faint splash. It’s done.

Seconds later, he comes out, tall with pride.

“All ready. Let me help you undress,” he says, looking way too smug.

“Just a moment. I’m thirsty.”

I extend my hand, calling a goblet. He nods, his poisoned drink flying into his hand, as well.

“To a night of peace and quiet,” I say, smiling with barely suppressed menace.

“To a night of fucking my consort,” he counters, his golden eyes gleaming with confidence.

I shudder. It’s good that I had the foresight to poison him. I am determined to hate him, and knowing Woland, he won’t stop until he gets his way. I loathe the thought of touching him. Even my body’s response, usually so eager, is lukewarm.

I drain my goblet, hoping he’ll follow suit. Woland takes a long drink but pauses, pulling the rim away from his mouth. My heart hammers once, half with fear, half—disappointment. His gaze sharpens, lips curving in a lopsided smirk.

He sniffs his wine, looks at my belladonna, then at me. I stop breathing.

He knows.

I brace myself for an attack. But the devil chuckles under his breath and gulps down the rest of his wine with careless abandon. When he’s done, he grabs another goblet, sniffs it, and pulls a long drink. He swishes it in his mouth and spits out. When I blink in confusion, he grins, showing off his sharp teeth.

“I wouldn’t like to hurt you when we kiss. Now, let us bathe. I’m eager to wash every inch of you. Especially those inches Chors touched with his slimy hands.”

My shoulders drop in defeat. “So that’s it? Let me guess—gods cannot be poisoned.”

He comes closer, his tail swaying contentedly. I grit my teeth when he reaches for the ribbons fixing my cloak under my chin. He unties them with care, and the heavy fabric pools around my boots.

“Some can,” he answers, his predatory smile making me shiver with foreboding. He really won’t let it go tonight. “I am unique in the way I respond to toxic substances. You see, common alcohol, even as strong as vodka, barely makes me tipsy. I need a stronger poison.”

His claws are careful yet insistent as he undoes the top three buttons at the front of my shirt. I clench my fists, breathing hard. Gods, to think that even yesterday, I would have rejoiced at his attention. Stupid heart.

“What does it mean? You’re drunk?” I ask, taking a step back when he pulls my shirt out of my trousers. “That’s enough. I don’t want you to touch me.”

He snorts, throwing his head in an animalistic gesture. “That’s too bad. And no, I’m not drunk—yet. But I will be, and love, let me tell you one thing: it took a formidable amount of self-control to watch you day after day and deny myself. Your little drink took away my willpower. In a moment, nothing will stop me.”

I swallow thickly, glancing at the door at the far end of the room. Woland grins and snaps his fingers. The door vanishes. A thick, uniform rock appears in its place.

“What…” I stumble back when he takes a step closer, the sound of his hoof echoing.

“Come now,” he says, his smile so wide, so pleased. “You missed me, didn’t you? You left because you had needs and I didn’t provide. Let me fix my mistake.”

“Touch me and I’ll stick you through with a knife,” I gasp, my hands flying to my belt where my weapon sits.

Woland huffs with amusement. My knife vanishes, just like the door. When I look down, helplessly trying to find it, the devil moves with breathtaking speed. He lays his palm on my chest, his arm snaking around my lower back until I’m trapped against him, a hard knee parting my legs.

A pulling sensation starts behind my sternum, a helpless drawing out that makes me feel liquid and lightheaded. My legs buckle, and he holds me up with a murmur.

“That’s it. See? That’s my good little witch. So strong, but you don’t need to be strong right now. I’ll take care of you. Just relax and let me do it, and if you need to fight me, fight. I’ll take it all. I’m done promising myself it will stop. I’ll always want you. Fuck, you drive me insane.”

When he pulls his hand away, I blink heavily, touching my sternum with confusion. I feel hollow, somehow. Drained, but… But I had so much magic just now.

“Try to repel me, love,” he says, his smile obscenely wide. “Go on. Make your skin thorny again.”

Spikes , I think. The spell has served me well in the past, yet now, it doesn’t work. My chest pangs with hunger.

It takes me a moment to understand what happened. Woland laughs under his breath, his fingers kneading my waist.

“You took my magic,” I whisper with horror. “I didn’t know you could do that.”

“You know little about me,” he says, picking me up so suddenly, I choke on my breath. Steps steady, he carries me into the bathroom. My boots drop to the floor on the way, pulled off with magic.

“See, Jaga, I spent a long time watching you, back in the mortal world and here. I know a lot already. For example, I know that you don’t give up until all your resources are spent. In each of your duels with Wera, you fought viciously until a moment came when your magic was spent, your weapons knocked out of your hands, and you couldn’t scratch or bite anymore. That’s when you gave up.”

The bathroom looks splendid. Hundreds of tiny light orbs float under the ceiling, some of them golden, others pink or red. They dance slowly, circling each other. The shimmering light is soft and sensual. The air smells of roses, heavily scented steam rising from the bath.

But that’s not the loveliest part. The floor is a meadow of soft grasses and flowers, so out of place here at the bottom of his dungeon.

Woland truly outdid himself, yet I cannot appreciate it. My chest hollows with a sickly feeling of powerlessness. With no magic and no door, no weapon and no poison, I can’t defeat him.

“You need to believe there is no way out, and then you’ll cave,” he says softly, letting me stand in the cool grass. Behind him, the door disappears, replaced by solid rock. “I have no interest in letting you refuse. You’re going to take me, you’ll let me make you come, and just this once, we’ll fuck for fun. I’m tired of tricking you with deals and trades. Take me because you want me.”

“But I don’t want you,” I whisper, my voice hoarse with fear and helpless desire I’m unable to control.

By gods, he’s right. When there’s no way out, I lose my will to fight. Curse him.

“You do,” he says with a smile, pulling my shirt up. “Be good and raise your arms.”

I obey because I see no way to stop him. Not only do I have no magic, I am physically weak from the lack of it. My legs shake, and when Woland pulls off my shirt with murmured words of praise, I want nothing more than to burrow into a nest of blankets and sleep.

Maybe that’s the answer. Maybe he’ll get what he wants and then leave me alone if I don’t participate.

When careful claws unbuckle my belt and unbutton my trousers, I look aside, telling myself the fire in my belly is just nausea, the tingling between my legs—a phantom sensation. But when Woland pulls my trousers down and guides my face up to look at him, I can’t pretend anymore.

He has me trapped and helpless, and for a sick, twisted reason, my body responds to that with shocking need.

“I hate you,” I whisper, falling helplessly into his golden eyes.

They soften as if my words are those of affection, not loathing.

“You don’t,” he says with utter confidence. “But it’s difficult to want someone like me, isn’t it? Much easier to pretend you hate me. Here, love. Don’t fall asleep on me now.”

A shallow cut appears next to his nipple, right on the meaty muscle over his heart. As blood wells and trickles down, dark and luscious, I am helpless to stop myself. I am empty, and here is a promise of being full again.

He’s right. I hate that I want him, and yet, how can I not? I love magic above all else, and his very lifeblood brims with it. Sometimes, when I’m drunk on his blood and open to see, I feel like his very essence is magic itself.

How can I not love him?

The weight of his palm on the back of my head is unnecessary. I fall on him with a moan of need. As soon as my lips press to his hot skin, he groans with pleasure, arching until his erection brushes my stomach.

“You boasted about drinking my blood, but you had no idea,” he says, voice hoarse and passionate. “It is something to boast about. No one has ever drunk so much of me. Oh, fuck. Here.”

When the cut under my tongue seals, another one opens lower down, on the side of his stomach. I seal my lips to it, drinking, but too soon, it heals, too.

“Here.”

I watch the cut over his navel, realizing what he’s doing. When I look up with a whine of distress, Woland cups my face and leans in to kiss my forehead.

“Be good for me, love. I waited a long time for you.”

Feeling liquid and helpless, I lean in, bowing in front of him like one of his subjects. I suck as much blood as I can, and when the cut closes, I breathe out shakily. His skin splits again—underneath his navel.

When I press in hesitantly, my chin brushes the flat circle of his thorns, his cock nudging my throat. His long, audible breaths sound hungry and wanting. Claws bury in my short hair.

When the wound heals, I close my eyes and stay, because I know what will happen next. It’s utterly humiliating that I won’t be able to resist. Somewhere along the way, I got hooked on his blood, and when he offers, I cannot refuse. No matter which part of him I’ll have to suck to get it.

“Are you afraid?” he asks in a hoarse whisper. “You’re shaking.”

“It’s from hate,” I say, my face contorting. “But I hate myself even more than you.”

He pulls me up until our eyes lock, and he looks so infinitely tender, I want to scream. It’s him again, the same devil who took my virginity, the lie and the manipulation. I know better, and yet, my stupid heart that’s drunk on his blood wants to believe him so badly.

“I hate myself for wanting you, too,” he murmurs, caressing my face with long fingers that suddenly have no claws. “It’s just this once, love. Just this, and then it will be over.”

I shake my head. “Liar. I don’t believe you.”

“Smart girl. My lies will make it easier. It’s so hard wanting the devil, isn’t it? So humiliating to need his cock. But you only have to do it once, just for a bit. And I’ll let you go.”

When a comfortable, padded stool appears in front of him, I kneel on it without protest. He cups my face in his palm and just looks at me, his nostrils flaring, lips soft around harsh breaths.

“Beautiful.”

Some of my strength comes back, enough to glare at him with all the loathing I can muster. “You get off on this, don’t you? Soon, you’ll have me bowing in subservience like everyone else.”

He laughs, shaking his head. “No. I admire your strength and I adore you precisely because you refuse to bow. But this is different. This is me taking my consort after a month of respecting her wishes that made us both miserable. I’ll fucking have you on your knees tonight.

“Open wide for me.”