Page 134 of Devil's Deal

“As a matter of fact, yes,” he says tersely. “I had three beautiful wilas at my feet, licking me with their crafty tongues.”

Pain shoots through my chest. Then—anger. And then, I look at his cock, hanging flaccid and unbothered. I grin sharply, honing my anger to strike.

“Are you sure you enjoyed it?” I ask, looking pointedly at his crotch. “Or do you need a little remedy to help your tiny man stand? I have just the potion, so say the word.”

He stares at me, potent disbelief on his face. He’s not angry yet, though I know he will be. For now, he seems to have trouble accepting that I said what I said. I drink him in, his eyes wide open, his jaw a bit slack, that sensuous mouth soft, until finally, it flattens.

His expression morphs slowly, and I am too fascinated to be scared yet. His brows lower, eyes narrow, the muscles in his cheeks tense, sharpening his look into one of cold fury. His tail lashes the air, and then he’s in motion, a dark, hooved beast charging right at me.

For the briefest moment, I wonder if he’ll kill me. He could. After all, he can bring me back to life.

He grips my throat with one hand and yanks me up. I kick instinctively, my feet in the air, my face level with his. He brings me so close, his hot breath fans my lips.

“This is all your fault,” he growls, so low, the sound vibrates in my bones. “When I look at other women and they aren’t you, I can’t…”

He breaks off sharply and closes his eyes, his regret over revealing too much obvious in his expression. His nostrils flare as he breathes out with exaggerated control. Slowly, he lowers me until my feet meet the cool grass. He releases my throat. I choke in a breath.

And I’m not scared. The things I feel are liquid and bold, and maybe I should be jealous about him trying to fuck other people, but I’m not. He never promised me anything, and yet, I have this power over him, and it’s sweeter than victory or revenge.

My blood sings with triumph. It makes me obscenely wet.

“Why did you call me here?” he asks, not opening his eyes.

When I glance at his body, I see he’s hard, and painfully so. His thorns lie flat, his cock a spike pointing at me. Another thrill of power settles low in my belly, the heat mounting.

Because I fully believe what he almost admitted. In his rage, he is the least controlled, and all his lies slip from his grasp.

And that means I am the only one he desires.

I’m ecstatic to use it against him.

“Explain the mark you put on my chin,” I demand.

He snorts, shaking his head with dark amusement. I have trouble keeping my eyes on his face, because they stray down. There’s a bead of arousal on the tip of him, shimmering when it catches the light of the moon.

“You’ll know soon enough,” he says with a cold laugh. I think he enjoys denying me after I mouthed off just now.

It doesn’t matter. I’m done playing to his tune.

“I want to take your trade,” I say softly, watching his face curiously to see his reaction. “But in return, I want two things: tell me the secret to ruling time and explain what this mark does.”

He swallows once, his neutral mask shuttering his expression, but he’s not so controlled below. His erection strains, hard and wet, and I know he wants me.

“The trade is off,” he says in a low, strained voice. “And don’t think you can jerk me around by my cock. Yes, I lust for you, but I’ve lusted after many a female—mortal, bies, or goddess—and a few males. I am old, and I know it will pass. You should go home, Jaga. Go home, do your whispering, and soon, you’ll see exactly what it does.”

I want to stomp and rage, because I hate how easily he dismisses my newfound power. But I’m not done yet. Woland may be old, his experience far outweighing mine, but I am determined to do what it takes.

And after all, how hard can it be to seduce a man, even when he is an ancient devil? I’ve seen it countless times. So often it takes just an inviting look from a woman or the sight of her bare calf, and a man is rearing to go.

When I was about ten, I saw something that convinced me women don’t even have to make an effort. Wiosna’s neighbor was weeding her garden on her knees, and when her husband saw her, he hiked up her dress and took her then and there. He didn’t even need encouragement.

I can’t imagine Woland is any different at his core.

So I come closer, untying my braid. I’ve slung it over my shoulder, and it hangs down to my waist. I undo it slowly, and despite his words, he watches me with obvious desire as I stand right in front of him.

It takes courage to use my hair like this. I’ve spent such a long time believing it ugly and cursed, but I can’t let my insecurities obscure the truth. And the truth is, when he saw my hair loose, he was mesmerized.

“Please, Woland,” I say, looking up as I take my hair out of my braid, strand by long strand. “We can help each other. And it’s like you said: I’d like to do you this favor.”

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