Page 30 of Devil’s Doom (Jaga and the Devil #2)

Chapter thirty

Love

“It’s only my fingers,” he murmurs, stroking my shaking back with his big palm. “Only my fingers, nothing else. It will feel so good when you let it happen. And I really need you to feel good for me. I didn’t care before. I was selfish, I suppose, but no one complained.”

I release a broken, shaky breath. Is this really what he wants to tell me now? That he didn’t care about the pleasure of his thousands of lovers before me, yet he somehow cares for mine?

“Is this supposed to make me feel grateful?” I grit out as his fingers move within me, my pelvis throbbing with bliss I loathe to feel. He knows how to touch a woman for all his assurances that he never cared for giving pleasure.

“No,” he says easily, his cock sliding rhythmically against my wet buttock. “It’s supposed to make you feel special, because you are. I keep telling you.”

My eyes no longer burn, sorrow and fear turning into anger. This man’s audacity has no bounds.

“Oh, yes, so special. Because I am the only person you deign to treat decently from time to time, in between breaking me into pieces. Fuck me and let’s be done with it. I want to sleep.”

He sighs deeply, pulling his fingers out of me. I tense, expecting a hard thrust that will probably hurt. Instead, Woland pulls me back into his lap and turns me until I straddle him, his strong arms pressing me to his chest.

“Is it because of what happened last time?” he asks mildly. “You’re afraid of my thorns, aren’t you? I can stop them from embedding. I really want to put them inside you, but if you’re afraid…”

“It’s not the thorns!” I hiss, scratching down his sides as hard as I can. “Stop pretending to care about me! You want something, then get it, and stop with the lies! I’m here, aren’t I? Use me how you want, trick me again, I don’t care! Just spare me your sweet words that mean nothing.”

He is silent while I breathe raggedly into his chest. Tears threaten to fall again, and I pull away, desperate to escape. Maybe I’ll blast a hole through the wall. Maybe I’ll bring the mountain down on our heads. I don’t care. I just want to hide and be alone.

Woland holds me tightly despite my struggles, and I press my panting mouth into his chest and scream, the rage and pain too much, the fear too horrible. He’ll just do it again. He’ll make me hope, make me feel loved, and then he’ll yank it away, and I can’t… I can’t…

“Nothing I say will make it stop, will it?” he says softly, yet I hear him over the sound of my soul-shattering sobs. “But I can show you. It’s different. It will be different. I won’t try that again, Jaga. I just want to be with you, as close as possible. That’s all I want, I swear. I fucking need you, and I know you need me, too. Don’t be a coward now.”

I stop sobbing, a cold, serpentine rage filling my chest. I pull back and look at him with deep contempt.

“Call me a coward again, I dare you.”

He shrugs, his golden eyes serious as they study my face.

“You are. You’re letting fear stop you from taking what you want. Try me, Jaga. See what happens. Let me prove that fear wrong.”

“I don’t want you,” I hiss, my hands clenched into fists. “How many times do I need to say it?”

“As many times as I told myself I don’t care about you,” he counters, his jaw flexing. “Thousands, probably. And it still didn’t make it true.”

I shake my head, refusing to believe him. “Fuck me, then. I didn’t say no, did I? I’m not afraid.”

“Good.”

I just catch the way his mouth flattens into a determined line before his shadows wrap around us like smoke. When they disperse, we’re both in bed, the soft sheets soaking up the bathwater sliding down our bodies. Woland pulls me on top of him until I straddle his hard stomach.

“Kiss me,” he says. “Show me you’re not a coward.”

“I don’t have to prove anything to you,” I grit out, and yet, I do as he says. This is manipulation, too, so crude it’s laughable. But it works, because I care what Woland thinks of me. He’s the only person who knows all my ugly parts and still accepts me.

Though maybe that, too, is a lie.

His lips are soft and hungry, tongue urgent as I slick mine into his mouth. His hands wander, cupping my ass, stroking my back and thighs, burying in my hair. His tail wraps around my ankle like a restraint. I kiss him until I’m breathless, my core tight. I want this to be over.

But when I pull back, intending to impale myself on his cock and ride him to a fast orgasm, he doesn’t let me. He grabs the back of my head, fusing his lips to mine with a hungry grunt, and rolls us until I’m trapped under his bulk.

When I try to stroke his cock, my hands are yanked up, soft yet sturdy ropes tying around my wrists.

“Not too tight, sweetheart?” he asks, his mouth hovering above mine.

“Just fuck me already,” I hiss, straining against the ropes. They aren’t tight enough to hurt, but I can’t move my arms. I’m helplessly open, and a beat of uncertainty pulses in the pit of my stomach. Maybe I should have let him call me a coward, after all.

“I know what you’re doing,” he says. “And it won’t work. I want you to open and receive everything I give you, and I’ll give you a lot. You won’t go anywhere until you take it.”

I try to scoff with disdain. “I know your cock is big, but do get over yourself. I can take it just fine.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

Before I have time to ask what he means, then, his mouth is on my throat, hot lips trailing gentle kisses over my sensitive skin. The pendant trapped under my collarbones lights up, casting the side of his face in a reddish glow. He smiles, looking up.

“It’s like it’s saying hello. Did I tell you how brave you were, hiding it like that? Because you were. So brave and strong. It must have hurt, yet you did it.”

I frown, unsure why he’s telling me that. I wasn’t brave—I was desperate.

“It was the only way to keep it safe.”

He smiles and shakes his head, gentle fingers trailing down my cheek. His lips are wet, glistening in the red glow.

“No, it wasn’t the only way but the bravest way. You are a very brave woman. And so beautiful.”

He kisses my forehead and my temple, and I squirm with discomfort. I got used to brushing his compliments aside as just more lies and manipulations, but now that I’m tied up and vulnerable, it’s harder. The hungry beast in my heart that clamors for acceptance and love wants to take all his sweet words and beg for more.

“Are you done?” I ask, my jaw clenched when he kisses the corner of my mouth, and then up and up my cheek, so slowly, I want to scream.

“I told you when I'll be done. Close your eyes.”

He kisses the left one, the one that’s green and normal. Then, he places another kiss on the other corner of my mouth and trails up my cheek, toward the eye that almost got me killed. The useful, though hated, magical eye that I had to hide. The ugly one. The one I sometimes dreamed of gouging out.

“Woland,” I say through clenched teeth.

“This one is hard for you,” he muses, soft lips brushing the skin under my eye. I squeeze it shut so hard, my entire face is scrunched up. “Why don’t you take just this one kiss, sweet thing? Just one. Relax for me. You have beautiful eyes. The prettiest I’ve ever seen.”

“Lie,” I say, refusing to relax my face.

“No. Sacred truth. Your eyes are gorgeous. I could spend entire days looking into them. Let me show you.”

I shake my head, and he blows gently, making my eyelashes tingle. My chest is tight, my body so rigid, it trembles. I can’t do it, after all. I am a coward.

“Just for a second,” he coaxes, his voice warm, infinitely patient. “Just open your eyes for a second, my pretty witch. It won’t hurt, I promise. I’ll reward you if you do.”

I exhale sharply, clenching my useless fists. This is ridiculous. I should do everything he wants to make him get it over with, and so I brace and open my eyes. He strokes my cheek with his thumb, watching me with tender awe.

“There she is.” His murmur caresses my lips, and I keep my eyes open longer than a second, after all, because the look on his face is too precious to lose sight of. “You are so beautiful. I adore your eyes, however you look at me. I adore them when you’re angry, puzzled, uncertain, afraid, but I love them the most in those rare moment when you look at me with wonder. I look at you often like that, but I’m too proud to let you see that. It will change.”

I turn my face away, swallowing with difficulty. Things shatter in my chest, but the shield I put up to protect myself from heartbreak stands strong. Woland kisses the corner of my purple eye, and when it flutters shut, he kisses my eyelid.

“That was so brave,” he says, not a hint of sarcasm in his voice. “I promised you a reward. It’s another thing I’m not good at, but I’ll make an effort to keep my word with you.”

I don’t have it in me to scoff with doubt. I am too busy reminding myself I can’t fall for it. He’s a liar, and all he wants is to use me, and it’s all a giant plot to make me give him my soul, and I don’t want him, anyway, and…

Woland’s tongue spreads me open, the warm bones of his antlers caging my hips. I huff with frustration, helpless to stop the pleasure as he parts my legs wider to make more space for himself.

“Give me your cock,” I demand, voice tight.

He licks me with infuriating thoroughness and pulls back. “All in good time. Take the orgasm I’m about to give you, and we’ll see.”

“Curse you,” I mutter, my head falling back on the pillow. He holds my thighs open, his tongue so hot and so leisurely, I want to scream. I swear, he’s doing it on purpose to torture me.

“I love making you come,” he murmurs, lips moving right over my clit. “It makes me feel powerful in ways nothing else does. Here is this strong woman who has told me no so many times, and yet, she can’t help but come for me. It’s a heady feeling. Maybe I can’t conquer you in ways that matter the most, but I get to make you scream and tremble for me.”

My lips purse, and I stare at the ceiling, doing my best to ignore the slow heat spreading through my body from every careful lick of his tongue.

“I should have known this is a game to you,” I mutter. “I won’t come, then. You can’t force me.”

“Maybe a friendly wager, then? If you come for me, I get to put my mark back on you—anywhere I like. And if you don’t, you get to put a mark on me that I will keep from healing. You could squeeze my throat. It felt interesting when you tried that.”

My nostrils flare as he takes my clit into his mouth and sucks gently, his antler grinding against my hip in an unpleasant way that still fails to mar the pleasure.

“Call me a coward all you want, but I’m not going to risk it.”

“Smart girl.”

He reaches for my breast with his long arm. As he sucks and licks in a maddening rhythm, his graceful fingers roll my nipple until I grind on his tongue, wordlessly asking for more.

I was right not to take the wager, after all. The devil makes me come with shameful ease, his grin wide when he emerges from between my legs.

“Did you try very hard to stop it?” he asks, eyes glittering smugly. “I can’t tell, because it was as easy as always.”

I huff a small laugh. “Not very hard, no. With no bet, I had no good reason to deny myself.”

He slithers up my body with grace until his golden eyes hover over mine. They are soft, creased with warm laughter. I exhale quietly, and he places a chaste kiss on my lips.

“How about a wager where you have absolute control? Your body might betray you and orgasm even if you don’t want it, but your tongue won’t speak words unless you let it. Will you be brave, my witch?”

I want to roll my eyes, but the way he looks at me keeps me suspended in a helpless daze. More pieces of my armor crack, and I find myself smiling back with wonder. He can be so beautiful if he wants. It’s a travesty that he lets me see this side of him so rarely.

“Maybe. What are the terms?”

He kisses me again, nestling his long body more comfortably between my spread legs. “You lose if you beg me to stop. You win if you take it all until I fuck you, and I promise not to cause you any physical pain at all.”

My body hums with wellbeing after that orgasm, and I find myself nodding before I think better. But he’s right, after all. Nothing can force me to speak if I don’t want to.

“Say it,” he whispers, his thumb caressing my shoulder. “Do you agree?”

“Yes. I can’t wait to see you covered in wounds from my teeth,” I say with a smirk, to which he smiles indulgently.

When he speaks, his voice is soft, his fingers gentle when they caress the glowing hollow of my throat.

“There was a goddess I thought I loved, many centuries ago. When she smiled at me, I felt happy. When she lay under me, I was proud. She was the most beautiful woman in all the worlds, and I hung on her every word. She told me often how much she loved me. She gave me a child.”

I frown, staring into his sincere, calm eyes. This isn’t what I expected. Is he trying to make me jealous? I am not devoted to him, and I don’t demand fidelity on his part. I don’t understand why he tells me this. Woland’s forehead lines with tension, his voice growing slower, words labored, as if he has to tear each of them out from the depths of his soul.

“She betrayed me in the end, and that was when I realized I wasn’t truly in love. My heart didn’t break. I let her go, and even now, I can look at her without hate, because I never truly wanted her. I wanted what she represented, at least for a while back then. I was young.”

He pauses. His throat bobs when he swallows roughly.

“It’s different with you,” he says, voice dropping to a hoarse whisper. “You asked why I avoided you, and it’s because you terrify me. I’ve never felt anything like this for another person. Do you know what my biggest regret was when you said you’re infertile? It wasn’t that I failed, or that I couldn’t claim you for my goals. My first regret was that we wouldn’t have a child together. I want to have one with you. No, not one. Many. I want them desperately.”

I shake my head, frowning. I don’t know what he’s saying, and yet I do, too. My stomach fills with foreboding. When I test my restraints, they hold fast. When I turn my face away, swallowing a plea to make him stop, he merely kisses my cheek, so tender, I want to scream.

“And then you left. I never once thought about how that would affect my goals, not until much later. My first reaction was to rage because you were gone, and I need you more than anything. Without you, I can’t breathe.”

Stop, I beg him with my thoughts, but Woland is merciless. His voice is ragged, growing louder, and if this is a performance, it’s a superb one. I desperately remind myself that I should never trust him. He lies with every breath.

But what if it’s true?

“I’m not just addicted to your blood, though that’s a part of it. Remember what I did when I caught you? I drank, because being without your blood and not knowing whether I’d have it again was an anguish I couldn’t bear. So I drank almost until you passed out. And then I watched you every day, because I couldn’t get enough. I still can’t. You said tonight that no one has ever loved you, but Jaga, that’s not true.”

The words are out of my mouth before I can control myself.

“No. Stop. Don’t ever say that to me.”

He ignores my barked order, his breath hot when he leans in to put his mouth over my lips, as if he wants to breathe the words into me.

“I love you. It’s an imperfect love, sometimes cruel and demanding, but it’s love nonetheless.”

“Stop!” I scream, writhing under him. My wrists chafe as I struggle against the ropes. “Stop lying to me!”

He peppers my face with foul, manipulative kisses, and I thrash in agony. He’s true to his word—nothing he’s done causes me physical pain. What hurts is my stupid heart, because it desperately wants to believe him, and the strife between fear and the need for his words to be true makes me rip apart.

“When I saw you with Chors, I had to accept how I feel,” he says, voice shaky. “When she betrayed me, I got over it so fast. But if you ever do it, it will break me. How isn’t that love, no matter how ridiculous and unwelcome? Tell me.”

I shake my head, a raw whine pouring out of my throat. He had to spoil this, too. It wasn’t enough for him to turn my first time having sex into a humiliating farce. Now my first confession of love is a joke, too, and I am the butt of it.

“I win,” Woland says softly. “And all it took was ripping my heart out and giving it to you, but you won’t have it, will you? It’s too ugly. Too damaged.”

He slides down my body, and I snarl like a wild cat, kicking and spitting. If he puts his mouth on me again, I swear, I’ll find a way to tear out his treacherous tongue.

But Woland doesn’t try to lick me. He places a hard, searing kiss that tingles with magic—right over my scar that I begged him not to touch.

“It’s a promise,” he says, when I heave in large, sobbing breaths, tears falling down my temples. “One day, when this is all over, you will let me heal that part of you. One day, we will be happy.”