Page 47 of Devil's Deal

When a dark, clawed hand wraps around my throat, lightly but firmly, I gasp and almost drop the torch.

“Look at me when you speak,” he says, his voice a low purr. “And we still have to train you to take my name, little witch.”

He strokes the side of my neck with his thumb, and I swallow against his palm, tingles bursting along my spine. While I’d love to say my skin crawls with repulsion at his touch, that’s far from the truth. Hot helplessness flows through my veins, and I close my eyes for a moment, centering myself.

“I have nothing to say to you and your name is a curse,” I say, acutely aware of my vulnerable position. He can choke me. After all, he’s done that before. And if he wants to kill me, I am utterly at his mercy.

Really, I shouldn’t mouth off. Fear pools in my gut, and I stand still and frozen, my body rigid.

Woland’s palm tightens just a fraction and slides off, his claws teasing my skin. He steps away, the heat and mass of him disappearing from behind my back, and I gasp in a relieved breath.

“I have many names,” he says, his voice tinged with amusement. “Maybe you’ll like one of the others better than Woland.”

I take a deep breath to compose myself and turn, looking at him with all the indifference I can muster. I take in his towering form, the enormous, dark gray antlers, his yellow eyes that gleam like twin wills-o’-the-wisp, leading me astray.

He’s naked like he was that night. His hooves are dark with blood.

“I have work to do,” I say, glad my voice sounds unaffected. “Tell me what you want, I will tell you no, and let’s be done with it. You can go back to slaughtering babies or whatever you do in your free time.”

I expect him to lash out and rage, but instead, he laughs, his voice intimate and pleasant. Unease creeps up my back as my insides twist with recognition. My body remembers this sound. Even worse, it remembers how good he felt, and I hate myself for it.

After I’m done here, I’ll purge his every touch and every last piece of influence out of me, I swear.

“I don’t slaughter anyone, poppy girl,” he says, tilting his head to the side, his neck muscles cording. “Others do it on my bidding. But yes, if you’d like, I’ll take responsibility for what happened here.”

I swallow. So he is the one who killed the lambs, only… he didn’t do it. He sent another creature, then.

If I can believe him.

And I can’t. He’s a skilled liar and manipulator. Not only can’t I believe a word he says, I also shouldn’t trust my body around him, because he might control it. I growl in frustration and go back to my buckets. I dip an old rag in the vinegar and start scrubbing the nearest wall.

Behind me, Woland huffs in amusement, starting to pace evenly. His hooves splash in the bloody mess with every measured step. I force myself to look ahead and not glance back even as the hair on my nape rises, my instincts recognizing him for what he is.

A prowling beast.

“Why are you so cantankerous?” he asks after a long, tense pause. “Offended I didn’t give you a proper goodbye before I left? I’m sorry, dear. I’ll make sure to kiss you silly before I go this time.”

His voice echoes with mocking laughter. He makes it sound like we’re lovers who just had a spat, and not mortal enemies. I clench my teeth, Bogna’s smashed-in face appearing in front of me like an image burned onto the barn’s wall.

“What do you want?” I ask, scrubbing viciously.

Of course, the blood won’t come off, but that’s not the point. I’m removing the smell and the residue of death so animals can live here without fear.

“You,” he says, stopping behind me. His voice is serious for once, deep and resonating. It makes chills run up my back.

“I’m not available. If that’s all, you can go,” I say, forcing myself to breathe evenly.

His proximity unnerves me, and I sense he’s done playing. When he steps closer, his naked body brushing my dress, I swallow a startled gasp.

“You are available unless you got married since the last time I saw you,” he says mildly.

I clear my throat and move down the wall to scrub another part. He moves with me, his body just a whisper away from mine.

“Oh, is that all it takes to get you off my back?” I say, my voice trembling. “Should I just get married then?”

He inhales deeply, and then his mouth presses to the top of my head, his hand on my stomach. I freeze, gripping the dirty rag in my fist. The scent of vinegar burns my nose and all I can see is Bogna’s face etched into the bloody wood in front of me. I should be uncomfortable and disgusted, but I’m not.

Woland moves closer, his warmth racing across my skin. The pulse of terrified arousal in my belly makes me burn with shame.

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