Page 165 of Devil's Deal

Or maybe it’s something else. Maybe after he claims me forcibly, I’ll be incapable of having sex at all. I have no idea how a god can force a mortal to submit completely, and the mystery tears at the threads of my sanity. My thoughts run rampant, unchecked, and since I’ve never been in such a situation before, facing the unknown with no way out, I don’t know how to stop.

When Woland finally appears in the evening, just after moonrise, I jump away as if burned and eye him warily, my hands clenched into fists.

He has the audacity to laugh. “It’s good to see you, too, love.”

I bristle all over. “Don’t call me that.”

He tilts his head to the side, his antlers casting tangled shadows on the ground. He’s nude, like always, his skin gleaming dark in the silver moonlight.

“What’s wrong? Having second thoughts? I promise I’ll be gentle,” he says with a mocking grin.

Strangely enough, it’s easy to calm down when he is finally here. This is the Woland I know, and even though he’s evil and ruthless, I can’t imagine him torturing a yes out of me.

I shake my head in response to his question. I still want to have sex with him, of course, I do. This is the only way I know that might unlock my magic, and I’d try it even if it were disgusting and horrible.

But it won’t be. As I take him in, my body wakes up with a thrum of need, my anxiety settling and turning into another sort of tension. He’s beautiful, powerful, and strong, and yes, I want him. I want him in ways I could never want a mortal. I’m glad it will be him.

“No second thoughts.”

“Good.”

He comes over. I notice he holds his hand behind his back, and when he brings it out with a flourish, I gape, shocked and unnerved.

He holds a bunch of the most beautiful, magical flowers I’ve ever seen. They shine with gentle silver light, their petals half-translucent, their stamens gleaming like jewels. Then I notice the leaves. They are ferns.

“Tell me these aren’t fern flowers,” I say, my heart beating too fast in awe.

He arches an eyebrow, offering me the bunch with a small bow.

“You want me to lie to you? Fine, darling. These aren’t fern flowers.”

I finger the delicate, frondlike leaves and stare at the silver blooms that brim with magic, like fern flowers are supposed to.

These are legendary. The fern flower blooms on one night a year—Kupala Night. Whoever finds it will have riches beyond imagining, wealth, many children, and all other blessings. Every Kupala Night, a few bold youths go into the woods to search for the fern flower, but I never heard of anyone who found it.

The devil brought me these flowers that I didn’t even believe were real. And not just one—he brought me a bunch. I hesitate to take them, feeling like my touch might mar their perfection.

“You’re a liar,” I murmur, staring at the fragile beauty in his dark, clawed hands.

Woland laughs, thrusting the flowers into my arms. “Yes, these are fern flowers. They grow here and there in Slawa, so it’s not such a great rarity as it is in this world. Go on, take them. They are for you.”

I wrap my fingers around the ferns, glancing between the flowers and his face. He watches me expectantly, the silver glow reflecting in his golden eyes.

I can’t help it. I’m flabbergasted.

“Really, Woland? Flowers?”

Yes, they are magical and beautiful, but I’m thrown by how out of character the gesture is. I would expect him to bring me a knife or a poison, or truly, nothing at all. He’s arrogant and demands all the reverence and worship for himself.

Now that my awe and shock have worn off some, I’m suspicious more than anything.

Woland clearly doesn’t like my reaction, because his smug grin vanishes, replaced by a displeased frown.

“Yes, Jaga, flowers,” he says, mocking me. “You told the rusalkas you wanted this. Flowers, songs, stealing kisses. At least pretend to be grateful.”

I watch his face, trying to figure out why he’s so upset. Woland shoots me an offended glare and looks away, his jaw working when he swallows.

The strangest possibility comes to my mind. Maybe the flowers aren’t a trick. Maybe he simply wanted to make me happy.

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