Page 33 of Devil’s Doom (Jaga and the Devil #2)

Chapter thirty-three

Toy

A week passes in a blur. Woland doesn’t leave my side, spending every night buried deep inside me, and walking me everywhere during the day. I’m helpless to deny him, but I stop speaking and only answer direct questions. I have one goal now: to remember he’s a liar.

It’s hard. He’s sweet and tender, and kisses me constantly. He braids my hair every morning, feeds me at meals, whispers unctuous words of love when he fucks me. I develop a nervous tick in my eyelid and an irrational itch on my inner forearm that no herbs or magic can cure.

He leaves the base in short bursts, three hours when I’m busy in the sick chamber, two more when I chitchat with Rada and Lutowa. I am never completely alone.

It’s hard to breathe.

All my life, I was mostly on my own. And even though I told myself that I loved it and it was for the best, a part of me longed for company. I looked at Ida and other girls in the village, how they always moved in groups, holding hands, exchanging secret whispers. I watched the couples disappearing together in barns for quick trysts in the middle of busy summer days, and I thought, I want that, too.

So it’s a shock of sorts that now that I have constant company, it’s so loathsome. I dream of spending just one night on my own, with nothing but the sheets touching my skin. I take longer and longer in the bathroom, just breathing and pressing both palms to the cool, unfeeling wall, because as soon as I come out, he is there, the weight of his eyes on me like a leash.

I never thought I would miss being alone so badly, but here it is. My heart doesn’t help. Every day, it beats with longing and hope, craving to drink in his kisses and smiles like parched earth, and every day, I deny it that sustenance.

Remember his lies. Do not trust him. Remember what he is.

When Wera informs me one morning that I’m going to be a part of a covert rescue mission in the city, I heave a sigh of utter relief. It doesn’t dissipate even when she tells me Lech will accompany me for my protection, and that she will be in command.

“You will be our healer, and if everything goes well, you won’t need to fight. We’re going to pull out two rebels who were locked up in the guard tower. They are due to be tried tomorrow, so we’re going tonight.”

When I ask her for more details, she says in a patronizing tone that I don’t need to worry about anything, only follow her lead.

Woland comes to collect me at the end of my training session, perfectly on time.

“Are you coming, too?” I ask, wondering if he’ll let me go alone.

“Not as my handsome self,” he says with a blinding grin. “But I’ll send a few shadows your way to make sure you’re safe. I’ll never let anything happen to my beautiful poppy girl.”

My heart thumps sickly in my chest, eager to take in that scrap of praise. I clench my jaw and deny it.

Another lie. He’ll watch to make sure I don’t run.

“How does that work?” I ask idly when he sits by my side in the common dining room, a few plates already floating through the air to settle in front of us. “How far can you send your shadows?”

He wraps his tail around my waist while his hands are busy arranging the food until everything I’m supposed to eat is on one plate, the fork in his hand, and no cutlery for me. I grab the triangular tip of his tail on impulse, a bit too hard, maybe. He shivers and shoots me a sultry look.

“Careful, that’s sensitive. And to answer your question: I can send them far enough. You needn’t worry. If anything threatens you, I’ll be there in an eyeblink.”

I strangle my heart’s eager yipping of a dog begging for a bone, and translate his words in my head: If you try to run, I’ll catch you before you make three steps.

“I feel so safe,” I say without inflection, digging my nails into his tail sharply before I let go. “Can I please eat on my own?”

“No.” He piles a portion of soft, herb-seasoned cheese onto the fork. “Let me dote on you, sweetheart. I love taking care of my consort. I could do this for eternity.”

I don’t even bother to suppress my shudder of revulsion. Gods. Even just a week has me contemplating drastic measures, like blinding myself so I don’t have to see his face every minute of my waking time. An eternity of this? I’d rather die.

“Good thing I’m mortal,” I mutter under my breath, not even caring that he hears me.

Woland only laughs, feeding me a forkful of eggs. He doesn’t care what I say or do, as long as I’m constantly under his control.

I wanted to at least pretend to believe him at the start, but it messed with my head too much. Maybe it’s a mistake to show him my mistrust and discomfort—maybe he’d leave me alone if he believed I trusted him—but the cost of that would be too great. My heart already hangs by a thread.

“That’s a good consort,” he rumbles when my food is all eaten, my kefir drunk, mouth wiped carefully with a napkin. “Just a quick fuck, and you can run off to Nienad.”

I close my eyes as he buries his face in my throat, his hot lips sending tingles down into my belly. He fucks me five or six times every night and then at last twice during the day, and I don’t protest. For one, I enjoy it. He doesn’t try to fuck my cunt, and with the threat of pregnancy gone, I’m able to lose myself in the pleasure and forget about how horrible my life is right now.

And secondly, it helps me remember what I am to him. Not an object of love, but an object alone. When he plows my insides with his cock, breathing heavily into my hair, I feel like it.

Like a thing he’s using.

“Kneel on the bench and lean on the table, love,” he says, already urging me up with his hands. “No one will see, I promise.”

That’s not quite true. He never hides what he’s about to do to me, and only when he’s certain people have seen me exposed, with his hand between my legs, do his shadows descend to give us privacy. He usually releases them while he’s still inside me, too, making sure his subjects see his cock leave my body, wet and sticky with his spend.

I do as I’m told, already buzzing with anticipation. I let myself want this, because for fifteen precious minutes, I’ll become just a body to use, he will be just a cock inside me, and the world will disappear in a whirlwind of black smoke. Such a relief, this moment of nonexistence among orgasms his magic squeezes out of me like juice.

Under me, the table and bench rise to become the perfect fit for him. He stands behind me and lifts my skirt, his finger already sinking in my ass as it grows pliant and welcoming so I can take him. He moves it a few times inside me, murmuring with pleasure.

“See? You are so obedient, so good for me, and yet, I can’t help but want you even more. This is how it will be, my love. I’ll want you forever, even when you’re completely mine. I’ll take care of you. You’ll see. Open wider.”

I slide my knees further apart. My head lies comfortably on my arms folded on the table, and I open my eyes to see if we’re hidden yet. We’re not. I look right into the eyes of a blushing wila sitting three tables away. I blink heavily, she blinks back, and Woland returns with two fingers, gripping my nape with his other hand.

There’s no need for him to do that since I am perfectly docile, but he enjoys the control too much.

“So good,” he murmurs. “I love how you open for me, just wide enough to fit me whole. Say, pet, I don’t want to hide today, after all. There’s fewer than ten people in here. You can close your eyes and pretend we’re alone, all right?”

I swallow with difficulty. My body already hums, relaxed and eager, and he won’t stop moving his fingers inside me, each slow glide against my smooth muscles making me arch higher just to feel him a bit deeper.

“What if I said I don’t want to be seen?” I ask, expecting him to say he doesn’t care.

“Then we’ll hide. But pet, you take it well. Look at us now. I’m fucking you with my fingers and you’re relaxed and soon you’ll come for me, even though everyone can see. You’re ready.”

Ready. I finally understand why he never hid us at once, why he made sure people saw so much of this. He has brought me to this moment, desensitizing me to public nudity and touching.

“I can’t believe they respect you so much,” I mutter, shaking my head. “All you do is follow me around and fuck me.”

“I give them what they want,” he says, claws burying in my hair until they press at my scalp in the most delicious way. “And I’m also hard at work planning another rebel attack. Your sweet ass gives me inspiration. Well, sweetheart. Can I fuck you without the cover of shadows?”

The only explanation for the twisting, hot feeling in my belly is that his perversions leak into me every time he fucks me. Because what seemed unthinkable even just a few days ago, right now makes me wetter and hotter as I contemplate being fucked right here, right now, probably spoiling breakfast for those poor people. I sigh and nod into my elbow.

“Fine.”

When I look up, the wila is still there, a chochol female sitting next to her. They whisper, their eyes glued to us, and they don’t look away when they meet my gaze. Woland pulls out and presses his hard cock into my back hole, pausing while he reaches around to touch my clit.

“You’re going to have a loud, screaming orgasm as soon as I’m inside you, pet,” he says quietly, voice taut with focus. “And it will look like you’re hurting, and those people will be appalled on your behalf, but none of them will know that you’re actually coming harder than ever before.”

He sounds raspy and eager, and I understand he really loves this, public fucking and playing games. A moment later, he shoves inside me in a hard, brutal thrust, and magic slams into my pelvis, gripping my insides in claws that dig in and refuse to let go.

I scream. My clit and everywhere else pulses and throbs with vicious currents of sharp-edged pleasure, so good, so horrible, tears flow from my eyes. He fucks me, hard and grunting, reaching deeper inside me than ever until my belly aches and my breathing grows shallow, not enough space for a full breath in my lungs.

The orgasm rolls through me like a storm, and on its heels is another, and then another, and all I can do is howl, my nails scratching the tabletop until splinters lodge under them. He’s a force behind me, each slam of his hips making my hipbones dig into the edge of the table until I know I’ll have bruises.

It’s fast and merciless, and when my orgasm ends, leaving me too tight to enjoy it and too raw to speak, I hide my face in my arms, squeezing my bleeding hands into fists. The violent force of his assault shocks me. He’s never fucked me like this before.

“So good… Taking… Every inch…”

His voice is guttural, so beastly, it raises the hair on my nape. His claws dig into my hips with a sharp sting, and I should tell him to stop, but I feel him behind my sternum now, and I can’t take enough air to say even a word.

But even if I could, I wouldn’t. This is perfect, the utter distillation of everything we are. He—the master, and me—his toy. Take that , I tell my broken heart. A man who fucks a woman like this can’t love her. Take that once and for all, and stop with those stupid hopes.

“Look at you… Just taking it…”

He grunts like an animal, slamming so deep inside me, I feel him in my throat. I can’t breathe. My vision blacks out at the edges, and another orgasm grips me like a vise, tight and biting. Woland comes, throbbing deep as he floods my insides with his cum, and when I think it’s over, he yanks my head up and buries his teeth in my nape.

His hips flex again. He’s still fucking me.

“And still taking it,” he grunts, letting my head drop onto my shaking arms. “I knew you could. I fucking knew. You’re perfect.”

His magic attacks me, wringing pleasure from every pore of my body. I moan, utterly defeated, conquered for everyone to see, and Woland doesn’t stop. He takes me with complete abandon, ridiculous, impossible words leaving his mouth.

“I fucking love you, pretty thing… Love how you take me… Can’t wait to give you children… All mine… My perfect witch.”

And I don’t understand it. He fucks me like I’m a thing, certainly not a person, and this type of sex was my safe space, my assurance that I knew what was happening between us despite his lies. Yet now he says he loves me while fucking me in the most degrading way possible, and I don’t know what to think.

Even worse, people around us hear him. Someone mutters distinctly, “Did you hear that? He said he loves her,” and I shake my head. I wish I could tell them that no, they heard wrong, except, Woland’s violent thrusts fuck my breath out of me, and I cannot speak.

“Such a perfect home for my cock, for me, ” he grunts, driving himself so deep, I wonder if he’ll ever come out again. “So beautiful… So good… My perfect girl…”

When he stills, his orgasm driving him deep inside me, I can’t help the sobs that make me tremble weakly. My face is buried in my arms, hidden from everyone who sees my utter degradation. In my chest, my heart sings.

See? Maybe no man fucks a woman he loves this way, but he does. He loves me. He truly loves me.

I lose, a week after he said those cursed words the first time. And when Woland takes me into his arms, his shadows wrapping around us for privacy as I fall apart, I can’t help but be glad of his embrace.

He loves me.