Page 38 of Devil’s Doom (Jaga and the Devil #2)

Chapter thirty-eight

Pillow

“I’m thirsty.”

My voice is a scratchy, dry thing, rasping in my throat. Woland makes a muffled sound, something between sleep and comprehension, and a moment later, a cup floats to my side. I try to sit up, and he grunts reluctantly and moves with me until we’re both seated, and I straddle his hips.

“The thorns are very inconvenient,” I point out after quenching my thirst.

He merely grunts again, pressing me to his chest as he lies back down.

“Don’t care. They feel phenomenal. I’ll fuck you again after they release and put them back inside you—in your pussy this time.”

I shiver, his content, sleepy mood failing to rub off on me. I am exhausted and utterly spent, my every muscle aching, and yet, I can’t shake the acute awareness of his seed sitting deep inside me. Maybe taking root.

No, I do not trust my rune. It’s too flimsy.

I’ll have to make a potion as soon as he lets me go. It’s the only way I’ll have any peace of mind, because it doesn’t matter if Woland loves me or not—he is the devil. He won’t stop from getting what he wants, even from the woman he apparently intends to marry.

Marry the devil. What a joke.

“You’re thinking too much,” he grunts, his heavy arm pressing me closer. “Stop. Whatever it is, you can think about it tomorrow. Just relax, sweet thing. Everything’s good.”

“Such a man,” I mutter under my breath, trying to get comfortable on top of him.

Being fused together for long stretches of time feels too intimate. Even though I like the forced closeness, my thighs cramp from straddling him, and the thorns pull at me with every move. I still don’t understand why he puts them in me so often, since he can apparently control whether they come out or not.

“Woland, you don’t need to use the thorns every time.”

He makes a sleepy grunt, his hips flexing as if to check whether we’re still tightly connected. We are.

“But I do. Feels good. Stop thinking.”

Only, I can’t. He’s so relaxed, so utterly at peace, and my mind won’t stop turning. I remember flashes of the party, all those rebels smiling and so accepting. My gut tenses with foreboding. Something bad is going to happen, I just know.

“Woland?”

There’s the barest hint of impatience in his voice, but he sounds mostly resigned. “Yes? What is it?”

“You promised me long ago you’d answer a question when your thorns were inside me. Over a month passed, and I forgot, but now I remember, and well, you said you want to be better at keeping your word.”

He groans with such utter reluctance, I can’t help but giggle. This sleepy, domestic Woland is so far removed from the fearsome rebel leader. He’s almost cute, in a thorny, shadowy sort of way.

“Foul woman. Let me sleep.”

“But you don’t have to sleep,” I point out. “Come on. You promised.”

He shakes his head. “No, no, no. I need to sleep when you’re here. You’re so soft and you smell so good. You’re the best pillow. Please, poppy girl. I’ll tell you next time. I almost had a dream just now, a dream about fucking you right under the Great Oak. It was so nice. Mmm, let me dream. I want to see what happens.”

I laugh, shifting on top of him until he grunts, his cock flexing inside me.

“How am I a pillow? I’m on top of you.”

In a burst of shocking speed, he rolls us until I’m trapped under him, his weight pressing me into the mattress.

“And now I’m on top. Fuck, you’re like a fly. Buzzing and buzzing. Very well. What was the question?”

“The purpose of the latest rebel attack. It wasn’t to bring the fence down, so what was it?”

The sound he makes is very close to a muffled moan. I smile into his chest, and Woland rolls us again until he’s on his back. I sit up to look at him, but his eyes are barely cracked open, face etched in an expression of mock suffering. Gods, he’s adorable.

“There, there,” I say, patting his meaty chest. “Just tell me and you can sleep, I promise.”

“Foul woman,” he says with emphasis. “Fine. I don’t really want to bring down the fence. Nienad is working on a way to contaminate the magic that Perun harvests with his tolls. That’s the actual goal of every rebel attack. While Perun sends scores of his dragons to repel us, a small, invisible task force works on the underlying magic that powers the entire fence. We’re almost done, too. Just one more attack, and we should see some promising results. Maybe the Great Oak will wither and die. I can’t wait to see it.”

I shake my head, astonished. This is so much more elaborate than what everyone believes the rebels are doing. I remember people in the city grumbling about Woland’s movement, saying that all they do is hit the fence at random and fight Perun’s dragons.

“How many of your people actually know about this?” I ask.

He shrugs. “Nienad, me, now you… A few others. I don’t trust most of my people with truly important information, and I’d appreciate it if you kept this to yourself.”

“They bow to you and build altars to worship you,” I say, flabbergasted. “And you won’t even trust them to know your true goals? Oh, gods. They don’t know the actual reason why they fight and die.”

Woland scoffs, not at all moved by my reasoning. “Of course they know the true goal: bring down Perun. Jaga, be realistic. I have spies in Wyraj. Perun’s own son, Strzybog, is my spy, a lousy one, but still. And if that’s the case, it’s obvious Perun has spies in my movement, too. The only reason he hasn’t raided our base is because of the ancient magic that keeps him out. But he knows we’re here, right under his nose. He probably knows everything that’s public knowledge among the rebels.”

I nod slowly. It’s actually shocking that he trusts me with this information, but then, I do know one of his most closely guarded secrets.

“So that’s why you looked for me yourself after I ran away rather than tell anyone about me?” I ask. “You don’t trust any of your people?”

“I don’t. And I actually debated wiping your memory, too, but you have a good reason to keep the prophecy to yourself, so I let you be.”

A cold shiver crawls down my spine. I check on my mental barrier, strengthening it to make sure he can’t manipulate my mind. “Really? What reason do I have?”

He opens his eyes with a disbelieving laugh. “Jaga, you can’t tell anyone that you’re instrumental to winning their fight. If you did, they’d know instantly that the only reason they keep suffering under Perun’s rule is your obstinacy. Everyone would hate you.”

He shakes his head with a chuckle, and I look away, hugging myself, suddenly cold. He’s right, and I knew it, too, didn’t I? But it’s not that simple. Woland’s followers believe he’s the better choice, but is he, really? I don’t know. The responsibility of making this decision for all of Slawa is crushing. I’d rather it fell to anyone but me.

“Relax,” he says, pulling me closer. “I won’t tell anyone. They will keep loving you, just like yesterday at the party. It was good, wasn’t it? So much better than the miserable life back at your village.”

I sigh into his chest and don’t answer, because I’d have to admit that I’m actually grateful he brought me into Slawa. Yes, it’s dangerous, and yes, the terror of dragons and Perun’s tolls is horrible, but in the end, I love being here. It’s a land of magic and wonders. I can use my powers openly here, and I finally fit in. No one will ever banish me for being magical.

Although, as Woland just pointed out, they could cast me out for other reasons. It would be even worse, I think, than being run out of my village. Back home, I was never fully accepted. But yesterday, I felt for the first time in my life like I fully belonged.

It would be terrifying to lose that.

“Let’s sleep,” Woland murmurs, stroking my hair. “And I can tell you one more secret. The attack is tomorrow. Who knows? Maybe we’ll somehow win without me claiming you. And once we win, we can finally be happy.”

He sighs contentedly, and I do my best to relax, even as my gut squirms with an unpleasant premonition. I have to remind myself I am no Nyja, and I cannot prophesize the future. I only feel this way because I’m so unused to my life being good.

All I know is constant fear and hate, and when things are finally turning for good, I expect fate to slap me hard for daring to be happy.

Woland breathes deeply, his chest rising under my cheek. When his thorns release, he mumbles something incomprehensible but doesn’t wake. I slip out of his arms to get ready. Maybe I won’t contribute my soul to his war efforts, but I will do everything in my might to help his people, who accepted me with so much joy yesterday.

That I can do.

He finds me a few hours later in the forge. Draga trains me in a set of simple evasive maneuvers. As a healer, I won’t take part in combat and will be assigned warriors to watch my back, but I still need to know what to do if a spell or an enemy manages to get through them.

“You weren’t there when I woke up,” Woland says, shooting me an unhappy look. “Come here.”

Draga bows, and I come over, wondering if he wants to punish me. But the devil only takes my face in his palms and kisses me deeply, as if I left him for weeks and not mere hours.

“You were gone,” he repeats, whispering the words against my mouth. “Don’t do that.”

I melt a little, my heart beating fast, a red glow filtering through my skin between my collarbones. Woland kisses me again, and I kiss him back with the fervor of this new, precious love that I finally allow myself to feel.

Yes, I love him. I told him as much. And still, I swallowed a contraceptive potion as soon as I left our bedroom, because I don’t trust him. Not yet. Trust and love do not go hand in hand, not in a relationship as complicated as ours.

“You thought I left you?” I ask, shaking my head with a laugh. “Where would I go?”

“I don’t know. I’m just afraid I’ll lose you again.”

My chest tightens painfully, and I don’t know how to react. All I know is that I’m done telling myself he’s a liar, because why would he lie like that? He holds me closely, his face buried in my hair, breathing me in, and my heart wrenches with joy that’s as intense as pain.

Would it be so wrong to belong to him?

When he pulls back, I am shocked to discover that the red glow under my skin is brighter than ever, bathing my face and stomach, coloring the world around me red. Woland’s eyes flicker to my chest, and his mouth tips in a small, private smile. It’s gone by the time he looks into my eyes.

“Try to sleep before tonight, love.”

I nod even though I know I won’t be able to do that. Especially when Woland goes over to Wera and his other lieutenants, and I know the entire base will soon buzz with preparations for the attack.

And maybe he’s right. Maybe we’ll win. And if not, at least we’ll poison Perun’s tree.

I am too giddy to sleep.