Page 100 of Devil's Deal

“But I want to help you,” he says, smiling innocently, except that look won’t ever fool anyone. It doesn’t belong on his demonic face.

“Leave.”

He huffs with exasperation, and then I’m in his arms as he deposits me smoothly on the bed. I curl up into a ball, and when he strokes my hair, I growl, because I don’t have the strength to push his hand away.

He stops touching me, and I squeeze my eyes shut, hoping to make him go away with sheer inertia. Woland is ancient, with many lifetimes of amusements behind him. He probably gets bored easily.

And yet, after time passes and I drift away in my little cocoon of agony, he speaks. His voice is unusually gentle.

“I can make it go away,” he coaxes. “One little drop. I’ll give it to you for free.”

I exhale, my insides knotting tighter. Oh, gods, how I want it. I know how his blood makes me feel, like I’m less mortal, unencumbered by hunger and exhaustion. It can remove my pain.

One little drop. Will it really hurt if I get it?

I crave the ease and relief, I need the power and pleasure of tasting his blood, and yet, there is this tiny, stubborn voice in my head saying no. Because I’m already so much weaker than Woland, and every time I allow him closer or take something he gives, I weaken myself more.

I might feel strong with his blood buzzing in my veins, yet that magic won’t allow me to ever get an upper hand.

Besides, I’ve suffered through many menses. I can deal.

“No,” I whisper hoarsely.

His hoof stomps hard on the floor. I don’t look up, only curl up tighter, and Woland snarls with anger.

“I’m simply offering to soothe your pain!”

I’d laugh if I didn’t think it would make me hurt more. “Nothing is ever simple with you.”

His exhale is long and measured, and I know he’s trying to keep his temper in check. If I weren’t in such horrible pain, I’d enjoy aggravating him. Refusing him is so rewarding.

“You’re right,” he says after a while, his voice cool. “I didn’t just want to help. I wanted to soften the blow.”

A quiet note of menace rings out in his voice, enough to make me open my eyes. I don’t stir, though. This is the most comfortable I’ll get, and I’d rather stay like this as long as possible.

“What blow?”

Woland laughs, unpleasant and cold. A shiver runs down my back, and I know whatever’s coming won’t be good. Despair pours into my chest, and for the first time in a long while, I feel like crying from helplessness and rage.

I swallow it all back. He cannot see my tears, I will not allow it.

“Your little mentor is back in Nawie.” His voice grows gentle, pitying, though I know it’s deceptive. “She shouldn’t have been let out in the first place, but I allowed it, hoping she’d talk some sense into you. But weeks passed, and you’re still as stubborn as you were that night, hm? Now you’re on your own. Let’s see how long it takes before you beg me to take you in.”

I blink a few times, trying to make sense of everything he just said. My abdomen pulses with more and more pain, until all I can do is squeeze my eyes shut and clench my fists tight.

“Wiosna?” I whisper under my breath.

Woland snorts, but I ignore him, my foolish, naïve hope making me wait… and wait… but she never answers.

She’s truly gone at a time I need her the most. Ida believes I’m a witch, I’m about to become the only whisperer in the village, and the devil is still bent on claiming me.

I am all on my own.

Chapter thirty-three

Bargaining

It’s dusk, and ever since he arrived, Woland’s been with me in my cottage. It’s like he’s waiting for me to shatter into pieces so he can strike. Not a bad strategy. All that keeps me together at this point is clutching at the energy within me that I recognize as my zmora. She, too, feels my pain, but pain only makes her stronger.

---