Page 115 of Devil's Deal

Lore

Another night, another wake. I stifle a yawn, looking at Magda’s form stretched on my table that’s no longer a place for patients, apparently, but for corpses. I dressed her in a long, brown, linen dress and combed her hair into a loose braid. She looks so peaceful and entirely too young to be here.

“Why did you do it?” I whisper, rubbing my eyes. “Was it really worth it, dying for a man?”

She doesn’t answer, but if she did, I wouldn’t even be surprised. After everything that happened yesterday and today, my limits of belief have stretched to include a great many things.

Like Woland giving me pleasure in return for nothing.

Saving my life, I can understand. He’s made it clear he wants me alive. But that orgasm was completely unearned and all for me. Oh, he took pleasure from choking me, I’m sure, but he could have taken so much more. He could have sated himself on me and I would have given him everything. And yet, he never took. He only gave.

I crumple my dress in my lap, breathing out with annoyance. Here I am, allowing myself lewd, inappropriate thoughts while I’m supposed to guard a soul. What if Rod comes and somehow reads my mind? All those gods seem to be so in the know, it’s not that unlikely. Maybe they see inside mortal minds. I bury my face in my hands and groan.

It’s still early, though. I’m probably safe, but my body feels charged and primed for more pleasure, and I can’t shake off that sensitive need, no matter what I do.

I’m only thankful Woland isn’t here.

“Waiting for Rod, poppy girl?”

I open my eyes and look up through my fingers. Woland leans over Magda, watching her critically from every angle, like a farmer appraising a newborn calf. I blink and sit back against the wall, straightening my dress over my lap.

My hands are empty tonight. I learned my lesson about wielding knives around demons.

“Why are you here?” I ask. It comes out tired rather than demanding. “Don’t you have a life?”

“Currently, dear Jaga, you are my life.”

I scoff, his tone of voice making it clear he’s joking. Also, he’s given me a non-answer. Again. It’s like he can’t communicate in clear, direct sentences. Everything is a riddle.

He stares at Magda for a moment longer and then straightens in a graceful motion, his antlers brushing against a roof beam. I finally notice he’s clothed. A long sort of robe sits low on his hips, falling down his legs. His upper body is still bare, lean muscles and gleaming dark skin on display, but his cock is hidden.

I wonder if it has anything to do with what he did to me today. Is he trying to put up a boundary between us? Or maybe it’s because I asked him about his nudity last night. It might also be completely unrelated to me, though I doubt it.

“Why the skirt?” I blurt out, feeling uneasy and defensive, I don’t even know why.

“Because you keep ogling me.”

I shoot to my feet, sputtering with indignation. “I keep ogling you? It’s you who has no shame! You parade around with your cock out like it’s public property!”

When he bursts into a low, warm laughter, I realize I’ve been played. He wanted to get a rise out of me, and he did. Now, he leans over Magda and whispers in her ear, though loudly enough for me to hear, because it’s for my ears. Of course.

“I bet you’re the first mortal who got to have the word ‘cock’ spoken out loud during their wake. And twice now. Lucky girl.”

I sit down, embarrassed and angry. Woland straightens and gives me a charming, satisfied grin. I have a childish urge to stomp my feet, which I suppress with a great effort.

A wake is not a place to throw a tantrum, and I’ve done enough damage as it is.

I am so ashamed, and yet so relieved Wiosna didn’t see any of it. She’d rise from the dead to box my ears like she used to when I was a girl.

“So you know I saw Rod last night?” I ask to change the topic. I sound petulant, which I hate.

“Of course,” he says, turning his palm slowly in a controlled gesture.

A large, comfortable-looking chair appears by the table with a soft thud. Woland sits down, spreading his legs wide, and leans his elbow on the table, right by Magda’s head.

I know if I ask him to remove his elbow, he’ll point out I already defiled the wake with lewd words, so I don’t. He smirks like he knows exactly what I’m thinking. When he sprawls more comfortably, the skirt, which I realize is just wrapped around him, falls open to reveal a thigh. I sigh and look away.

“What do you want, Woland?” I ask, looking at Magda’s palm, open and lifeless on the table, fingers loosely bent.

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