Page 47 of Devil’s Doom (Jaga and the Devil #2)

Chapter forty-seven

Come

I whip around, all my tension and anger making my control slip away. But it’s only Chors. He came uncalled, and I shiver in relief. He holds my ring in his wet palm, his gaze mildly questioning.

“I threw it away because it’s a lie.”

A gentle crease forms between his eyebrows as he studies my ring, as if searching for the source of deceit. He stands barefoot, the legs of his long, loose trousers trailing in the snow. His chest is bare, as lean as I remember from last time. But the silvery sheen on his cheeks seems healthier, his eyes bright and curious. There will be a full moon in a few days. He’s eating, then. Getting stronger.

“Interesting,” he says, turning the ring in his fingers until it flashes silver. “It’s just a ring. There is no curse cast upon it. How is it a lie?”

“It was given to me as a false promise,” I say, my throat growing tight.

I haven’t processed Woland’s betrayal, and it still hurts like an arrow through my heart that I don’t have the courage to yank out. Chors’ eyes lift, and he searches my face. What he sees in it must make up his mind, because he throws the ring up in the air, where it vanishes in a flash of a silver spark. He walks to me, seemingly unbothered by the cold.

“You came to see me again, didn’t you?” he asks, looking a bit puzzled, a bit pleased. His full mouth is soft, skin glistening where it’s stretched taut over his graceful collarbones.

Chors is so… So artless. So completely different from Woland, whose every word, every look, is calculated. I almost sag in relief. Being in the company of someone who doesn’t seek to deceive me feels like heady relief.

“Will you take me away?” I ask, my voice nearly breaking. “Somewhere no one will find us?”

He smiles, and it’s as if the light of the moon breaks through the clouds, suddenly silvering the land. My breath hitches. He is so beautiful, looking at him feels like a magnificent magic spell.

“Yes. We need to finish what we started. Don’t be startled.”

I want to ask about what, when he wraps his arms around me. His skin is cool, body lithe and flexible as he brings me closer and closer, pressing us together in an embrace that’s both unsettling and comforting. Silver light swallows us, and suddenly, the land seems to swoop out from under my feet.

I gasp, clutching him to me. His back is real and alive under my hands, muscles fluttering where I press my fingers into his skin in search of balance. As I lay the side of my face on his chest, his heart beats fast and light, maybe excited, maybe afraid.

A moment of weightlessness later, the silver light vanishes, replaced by a heavy, restful darkness. Somewhere nearby, water splashes against stone. It’s warm and humid, and I breathe in shakily, not letting go yet.

Chors doesn’t move away. His hands hesitant, he strokes my loose hair once before his palms settle on my lower back, light and uncertain. His touch is so unlike Woland’s, questioning rather than possessive. I want to bask in it. This is exactly what I need to chase the hurt and fury away.

“Where are we?” I ask after a moment of comfortable silence that stretches lazily. He doesn’t try to touch me, doesn’t make demands. He just holds me.

“Somewhere nobody comes. It’s where the eternal river that gave me life springs from the earth. I think most people forget this place exists.”

I gently pull away, curious. When I open my eyes, I see little—only Chors, illuminated by his own gentle glow. Beyond him, there is darkness punctuated with the rhythmic lapping of water against the shore. When I take a step, I realize my shoes are buried in sand. It’s so warm, I sweat in my cloak.

“Oh, you can’t see, can you?” he asks.

When I look up, his silver gaze is on me, intense and curious. He glows just enough to let me see him. I laugh softly.

“Mortal eyes,” I explain. “Don’t let the different colors fool you.”

His eyebrows crease in a frown, but he says nothing. All around us, glittering silver orbs come out of the walls, flooding the space. I inhale sharply, charmed and alarmed all at once.

We are in an underground cavern, wide but nor overly tall. It’s almost cozy, despite the cool light and the alienness of this space.

The sand under my feet seems silver, the walls black and glistening. There is no exit, no way out. Just the sandy shore stretching behind us until it meets the wall, and the water ahead, still and black. It’s the source of the heat.

“He won’t find you here,” Chors says, his voice a beautiful melody coming in sync with the splashing of water. “Would you like to bathe? The water is warm. I come here often to be alone. Not tonight, though. It’s the first time I showed this place to another person.”

I look at him with surprise. “Really? I’m honored. Say, is there a way out?”

He points at the far wall on the other side of the underground lake. “There. You swim underneath. But I’ll take you wherever you want when you ask. You don’t need to worry.”

I nod once, taking a deep breath. The air is humid and smells clean in a mineral, ancient sort of way. There are no plants here, no life. Just the water that gave life to a god and the warm, clean sand. I throw off my cloak with a sigh, then my boots. Chors watches me without moving. He seems mesmerized, or maybe scared. His arms hang loosely at his sides, fingers motionless.

“I want to ask you a favor,” I say, straightening. My clothes are still on, a shirt and a pair of trousers, but I feel almost naked. Today has whipped me raw, and all my defenses are gone. Trusting Chors requires strength of will.

He nods. “What favor?”

“Will you take me to your father? To Weles? I need to speak with him.”

His forehead creases, and he cocks his head to the side, watching me suspiciously. His fingers tap a rhythm against the side of his thigh.

“That’s your favor?” he asks, voice almost accusing. “You are strange. Why would you need my help for that?”

It’s my turn to regard him dubiously. “Well, he’s in Nawie, isn’t he?” I ask. “I don’t know how to get there.”

Chors closes his eyes for a moment, as if thinking. His face relaxes. “Oh, yes. He’s in Nawie. I understand it now. But spend time with me before you go. After all, I brought you to my secret place. Let’s swim.”

I press my lips together, glancing at the water. It beckons, but it’s also unsettling, the surface so completely black. I remember the utopek and his bottomless pond. What if this is bottomless, too? What if I drown, and keep drowning forever?

“That’s the only thing you want?” I ask, watching Chors warily. “Just—to swim?”

He shrugs, undoing his belt already. His trousers fall before he answers, revealing strong, lean legs and a thatch of dark hair nestled between his thighs. I yank my gaze away, my face heating.

“Yes. It’s safe. Swim with me.”

He extends his hand, and I bite the inside of my cheek, undoing the buttons of my shirt until I can tug it up over my head. I remember how easy it was to be naked around him the last time we met. Now, I hurt, and the urge to hide myself as my clothes come off is almost impossible to ignore. I do my best to breathe evenly, standing tall, but the rigidity of my posture must reveal my nerves.

Chors looks away to give me privacy, his eyes falling closed. He still holds his hand out, and I grasp his fingers gently. He leads me toward the water, which laps the shore faster and faster, as if in anticipation.

When his feet meet the edge of the lake, it stills completely, the final ripples splashing against the walls. And then—quiet.

“It’s warm,” he says, soft and coaxing. “Come in with me.”

I follow him more easily, exhaling in relief when my feet submerge. The water feels like the most relaxing bath, and I walk faster now, the sand fine and clean, no plants or slimy residue on the bottom. The lake seems almost sterile, and maybe that’s exactly what I need now. No hidden things. Just clean water and a god who holds my hand uncertainly, as if he doesn’t know how to.

When the water covers the tops of my breasts, I turn to him, feeling bolder. The warmth relaxes me. Despite forcing myself to breathe calmly for most of the day, only now do I take my first full, deep breath.

Chors watches me, standing close, but not overwhelmingly so. His eyes are clear, devoid of lust or anger. He looks thoughtful.

I snort under my breath. Why couldn’t I fall for this god? Which broken part of me wants destruction and pain, when I could have comfort and beauty instead?

“Why are you laughing?” he asks, his voice a whisper.

“Just… Wondering how different you are to some other gods I know. You’re better. Easy to be around.”

It’s his turn to snort, mischief creasing the corners of his eyes until he looks impish, like a boy preparing a prank.

“I am easy? I barely speak, and I make people impatient. You must have met some strange gods. Maybe only Dola is worse than me. She doesn’t speak at all.”

Dola. The rodzanica I met. I nod with a small smile. “I didn’t say you’re easy to understand, mind you. Just easy to be with. Your presence is comforting, just like this lake. It’s like a hug at the end of a hard day.”

He hums, closing his eyes for a moment. His unnaturally long, beautiful eyelashes fan over the sharp, silvered cheekbones. When he opens his eyes, it’s with an uncertain, speculative look.

“Would you like one? A hug?”

The question sounds innocent, and the way he blinks at me, with those beautiful, wide eyes, is, too. But we’re naked. A hug right now will not be just a hug. And I…

And I don’t care.

“Yes,” I say, my heart beating faster, a new, exhilarating tightness in my chest.

He nods once, as if confirming my consent, and steps closer, opening his arms awkwardly. I take a step toward him and slowly wrap my arms around his slim middle. One more step, and we press together, his fingertips tracing the shapes of my shoulder blades.

My breathing is fast and shallow, and his picks up, too. Warm water laps against us, the still surface suddenly rippling again. A small current wraps around my ankles until I fall forward, pressing tighter against his smooth skin. His breath hitches.

“The water,” I say softly, my body feeling light, careless, ecstatic.

“I’m the one doing it,” he explains. “Not on purpose. It just… happens.”

And it seems another thing happens, too. A warm, hard shape brushes the front of my hip. He releases a raw sound, not exactly of dismay, but of surprise, maybe. I shiver and don’t pull back.

“Not on purpose,” he repeats, his breath hot on the wet skin of my shoulder.

“Not on purpose,” I murmur, stepping just a bit closer, until my feet are between his.

That’s how we stand for a long time, his back heaving with fast, ragged breaths under my gently stroking hands. My body hums with warm arousal. He stays hard, pressing into my skin, but he makes no move to touch me. We hug, just as he said, and it’s the most peaceful sexual experience in my life.

“Thank you,” I murmur, when all my pain, my disappointment, fear, and regret wash away.

I don’t make a move to pull away, but Chors tenses slightly at my words before taking a step back. We study each other, the silver light making him look like something out of a dream, ethereal and glorious. I long to comb my fingers through his soft, nape-long hair.

“What would you like to do now?” I ask, my voice hushed in reverence.

He looks away, a muscle fluttering in his jaw, more silver dusting his cheeks. I’m not sure, but I think he’s embarrassed. As his throat bobs with a nervous swallow, I wait patiently, giving him time until his eyes fall on me again, his pupils so wide, the silver irises are merely thin circles around them.

“I saw you,” he confesses in a rush. “When he took your virginity in that forest. I watched it and touched myself, and for the first time, I thought… I wondered. What it feels like. But I don’t… I don’t. I was kissed a few times. It didn’t feel like anything, neither pleasant nor unpleasant, and I didn’t know what to do with it. You… If you don’t want to, we can just swim. Or hug more. Or talk.”

He looks away, cheeks so silver, they make his eyes glow bright, his lashes and brows dusted white. I swallow heavily. I know I want him, not because I want to hurt Woland. I’m not even sure Woland will be hurt by it. It was probably another lie.

But Chors’ desire is such a simple, beautiful thing. I’m honored by it, but even more, I crave it. Simplicity is seductive. And I can trust this man, here, in this hidden place, because I sense deeply how vulnerable he is.

And this, I can trade. An open heart for an open heart. Wounds for wounds. Pleasure for pleasure.

“Did you like it when we hugged?” I ask, my voice low with lust, because gods, I want him. Even if he stops halfway through if it’s too much, I still want to try.

He looks up sheepishly, lips parted around small, panting breaths. He nods.

“Then we can hug some more,” I say, raising my hand out of the water until it hovers over his chest, not touching yet. Droplets fall into the lake with faint splashes. “And if there is anywhere you want to touch me, you can. Does it sound good?”

He nods, the movement jerky. He’s so eager, hot breaths falling out faster and faster in excitement. My fingers twitch.

“And may I touch you, too?”

He nods again, a raw, hoarse sound tearing free from his throat. I swallow and lay my palm over his sternum. The violent thudding of his heart travels through his bones, the vibration tickling my skin. He breathes in harshly and covers my hand with his, pushing it down with surprising force.

I feel his taut stomach, the muscles hard and trembling under my fingers. Then lower, through his coarse, wet hair. When we reach his cock, he stops, his trembling hand simply resting over my palm until I twist it slowly and wrap my fingers around him.

He is long and smooth, and he leaps into my hand with a sudden twitch. His breath rushes out, and he puts his palm over mine, squeezing hard. I don’t move my hand, instead looking at his face. His eyes are closed, beautiful features lined with tension. When he throws his head back, a drop of perspiration travels down his pale, beautiful throat. I have an urge to lick it.

Instead, I lean in and kiss it gently. His breath falls out in a ragged moan, and he squeezes my hand tighter, as if to make sure it stays right there, curled around his cock.

I hesitate a moment before kissing his collarbone this time. He shivers in reaction but doesn’t stop me, and I slowly kiss my way up his throat. They are chaste, soft kisses, just lips and no tongue, and still, he shudders with every one as if it’s the most sophisticated caress.

When another drop of sweat trickles down his jaw, I don’t hold back. I lick it off with a small flick of my tongue.

Chors lets go of my hand, wrapping his arms around me. He pulls me close with a muffled moan, his voice echoing off the far walls, and I release his erection, hugging him back. He shivers, holding me tightly, and I stroke his back, my heart thumping against his through our ribs.

“It’s more intense than it seems,” he says after a while, voice trembling slightly.

“We can stop. We don’t need to do anything,” I murmur, trailing my fingers down his spine. He hunches over me a bit, and I can trace the slight protrusion of each vertebra easily.

He shakes his head before I’m even done speaking.

“No. I don’t want to stop.”