Page 79 of Devil's Deal

My clear, bright mind makes the connection and I realize what happened. He made me take his name, just like he promised.

And I loved it.

Chapter twenty-six

Deal

Woland presses his forehead to mine, his antlers resting on the ground on either side of my head. He is still hard, and I feel echoes of pain in his arousal. It’s like we share this space, sensations bleeding through from him to me the same way we bled into each other’s mouths.

He feels suddenly too close, my skin itching everywhere we touch. I’m trapped under him, his body a cage. I hate it. I’d rather fuck than share this intimate, impossible space with him. With anyone.

My impulse is to reach down and touch him to make this physical and not emotional, but when I try to move my hand, he presses it harder into the ground with a snarl.

“Stay,” he hisses, low and menacing.

I flex my hands, testing his hold. A growl reverberates in his chest, a warning, but I can’t stay still now. Somehow, stroking him to orgasm seems easy right now, but this—this being together in the afterglow of pleasure, the taste of his blood and mine still lingering on my tongue while his breath fans over my lips… It’s unbearable.

I fidget and squirm, letting the leg still hooked over him fall, sucking in my stomach so it doesn’t touch him. He raises his head and looks at me, his eyes feral, and I squeeze mine shut.

It is all the things I hate, intimacy and closeness, and I must stop it from getting to me. I have to remember what he is.

Or better yet, I should remember who I am.

Because this isn’t me, this strange, virginal being afraid of his gaze. I’m stronger than this. I’m a witch, no matter how atrocious, and a whisperer, and I killed a werewolf tonight.

This isn’t me.

So I open my eyes and bare my teeth at him. “Get off.”

His eyes narrow and instead of doing as I say, his shadows slither around my legs like living vines, keeping me trapped.

“We exchanged blood,” he says. “We’re joined right now, whether you like it or not. And I’ll be damned if I don’t take what’s mine.”

“And what’s that?” I ask, swallowing convulsively when fear prickles along my spine. I’m unraveling. He’s so close, my boundaries grow fuzzy. I’m losing myself.

He leans in, his hips rolling until his cock bucks against my thigh. His lips brush mine when he says, “Your body under mine, where it belongs.”

The prickles of fear turn hot and insistent, spreading into my belly, squeezing my throat with eager tightness. I don’t know where unease ends and lust begins, but both swirl in my veins. His body is heavy and strong on top of me, his skin hot and smooth. I am deeply aware of how hard he still is.

This, I can take.

And yet, Woland makes no move to fuck me. Instead, he nuzzles his nose along my temple and then lower, sliding it over my jaw. He retraces that path with his lips, trailing hot kisses that smell of blood.

“Stop,” I whisper, my chest heaving with something tender.

I’ve never been intimate with anyone but him, because how? Everyone feared and despised me. I have no experience with this, no way of defending myself when emotions arise, taut and painful.

Here he is, this being made of magic, wielding unimaginable power, and he touches me like I’m precious. I both crave and loathe it, but loathing is stronger. He is the devil who killed my friend and sent a bloodthirsty monster into my village.

When I try to push him away using magic, he laughs and nuzzles my ear. “Using my own power against me, little witch? You should know better than this.”

I shake my head, trying to escape his soft, seeking lips. Frustration mounts within me, the shell of my solitude that’s my protection and weapon cracking under his assault.

Woland hums in satisfaction, pulling away until he looks into my eyes. “So this is what you can’t handle?” he asks, both amused and predatory, his white teeth flashing in a cunning smile.

“You drank my blood and humped me until you came when I choked you. You willingly cut yourself on my name and let me kiss you, but when I do this,” he murmurs, dropping a chaste kiss on my forehead, “you want to run?”

“Just be one thing!” I snarl, angry, terrified, and flooded with longing that knocks my breath from my lungs. “Be my enemy, like you’re supposed to be!”

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