Page 25 of Devil's Deal

He blows on the nearest fire.

I watch in awe as the fire lifts cleanly off the ground, leaving behind singed earth, and gently floats further and further down until it settles with a sizzle in a new spot. Strzybog does the same with two other fires that are not directly by the river. As the circle grows larger, I can breathe more easily.

It’s like the magic concentrated inside becomes diluted, the air lighter and easier to take in.

Meanwhile, a few people jump away from the bonfires that suddenly appear too close for their comfort. There are a few raised voices and fearful looks, and the majority of the crowd moves further away, circling the big Kupala fire.

Ida stays nearby, her eyes narrowed on me. At that moment, with her face twisted into a mask of hate, she doesn’t look beautiful at all.

Evidently, what Swietko regarded as a punishment for me is the object of envy in Ida’s eyes. How quaint. I wish I could trade places with her, but I’m trapped. So I sigh, putting another fake smile on my face, and turn to Strzybog.

“Thank you. This is much better,” I say when he straightens, beaming. “Out of curiosity, how far can you blow them apart?”

His white teeth flash in his handsome face, blue eyes gleaming with mischief. “As far as needed, poppy girl.”

I nod, glancing at Nyja. She and Strzybog seem like the kindest and most trustworthy of the visitors. I think being trapped just with them can even be a pleasure. There are so many things I can ask them.

Maybe I will just ignore the others.

“So the mortals are never in control? It’s just for show?” I ask.

Nyja shakes her head. “Not necessarily. Most of us can’t tamper with the fires, or even cross into the mortal world. Strzybog, of course, can cross freely and is powerful, so…”

“Stop. Don’t give away our secrets,” Foss cuts in, smoke blowing out of his nostrils.

There goes my plan to pretend he’s not there.

I turn to look at him and flinch, seeing how much he’s changed in an eyeblink. He has grown and his face looks no longer human-like but completely alien, lengthening into a muzzle covered with thick, silver scales.

“Oh, goody,” Strzybog says with a laugh. “You want to give the mortals a show now that you have enough room to spread out? Go for it!”

“I do not give shows,” Foss hisses, closing his eyes. A moment later, he returns to his earlier shape, just hints of scales here and there betraying what he is.

When the dragon turns away and gulps his mead noisily, Strzybog raises his eyebrows at me with a grin. “Works every time,” he says under his breath, leaning to my ear.

When Woland growls, he rolls his eyes and steps away. “Oh, for fuck’s sake. Either claim her and be done with it or let me play.”

Just then, the first lively notes of music drift over, and Strzybog glances at where the musicians stand.

“Ah, finally! Mortal entertainment,” he says, clapping his hands. And even though he shows excitement and good humor, I have an inkling Strzybog doesn’t think much of the mortal world and the things it has to offer.

Play, he said. Like we exist only for his amusement.

I’m about to ask him about it when a heavy forearm curls around my waist. When I look up, my eyes meet Woland’s yellow gaze. He towers over me, his antlers obscuring the sky. His overwhelming proximity makes my stomach tie into knots.

“I enjoyed your wine,” he says, and my skin flames with heat.

I don’t know why, but he made the words sound entirely too suggestive. Something squirms in my belly, hot and eager, but the feeling is lost under the current of revulsion.

Cold slithers down my spine and I try to move away, but his grip tightens. Sharp tips of his claws dig into my stomach.

“It can be so easy, Jaga,” he says, lowering his face to my ear. My eyes widen, because his voice sounds so different. It’s lost all the cruel, demanding edges and is now soft and tantalizing like a caress.

When his lips press to the shell of my ear for the briefest moment, I jolt hard.

“W-what?” I ask, desperately trying to call back my previous disgust while a hot, helpless wave of need shivers down my spine. Suddenly, his proximity feels confusingly good.

“Giving in,” he purrs.

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