Page 108 of Devil's Doom

I choke on my saliva and cough into his chest. He holds me tightly, swaying to the rhythm until I get my bearing.

“A w-wedding?”

He hums, his chest vibrating under my face.

“On spring equinox, I think,” he muses, letting me step away until my hands are both in his, and we dance in a circle, fast and breathless. “I hope for the war to be wrapped up by then, but of course, that’s up to you. It doesn’t matter, in the end. As long as you’re mine.”

I shake my head, wishing for a moment of quiet. The happiness burgeoning in my chest makes me all distracted, and I wish it were gone for just a moment so I canthink.It wasn’t so long ago when he told me victory was more important than me, and now… Now it’s the opposite? Now I don’t have to let myself be claimed anymore?

What changed?

But the music seems to only grow louder, Woland’s smile more handsome, and the hot wine in my blood sings a loud, horny song. It tells me to let myself enjoy it. To take all those things I’ve been denied all my life. Here is an ancient god professing his love, and by Weles, I should take it.

Just once, I deserve to be queen.

When Woland picks me up, I straddle his waist, laughing with headless joy. He spins us, faster and faster, and the music swells, until it’s one with the noise, the laughter and shouts bleeding into the melody. Faster and faster the world spins, the colorful orbs joining into one dizzying blur of a rainbow. Woland’s face is the only constant, a glittering, grinning mask that I cannot help but love back.

He loves me. More than victory.

When the wild spinning stops, it’s to silence and the crackling of fire in our room. I laugh into the side of his neck. Gods, I’ve never been happier, and when his skin splits under my lips, the magical, rich blood wetting my tongue, I suck on the wound with a needy moan.

“Drink, my perfect, beautiful bride,” he murmurs, sending shocks of pleasure down my spine. “I’ll give you everything. Drink from me.”

I think I’ll give him everything, too. The wine howls in my head, demanding we go back and dance some more, but there’s another howl between my legs, warm and throbbing, and I press in, drinking faster as I hump him, this perfect god with blood made of magic and starlight.

“Good, love?” he asks, breathless, as his hands slide down to cup my ass. “You’re so good. I’d marry you tonight. In fact, let’s go back. I’ll tell your upir friend to marry us.”

I pull my lips away, laughing into his neck as the wound seals. “No! No, no, no, wait. Everything’s happening so fast. You’re so fast.”

“I want to be with you forever,” he says, voice hot and tender, as he pulls my head back to lick a long strip up my throat. “Fuck, I smell your blood even through your skin. You make me so happy.”

He bites in, a jolt of pleasure jerking my entire body until it pools in my lower belly. I rub against him, the wine so hot in my veins, telling me to do everything I’ve ever wanted, to take the happiness and the glory, because it will end tomorrow, because this thing is too good to last, because I’m not made to feel this kind of pleasure.

I try to swat the thoughts aside and lean into how good he makes me feel, each pull he takes from my vein like a stroke to my clit.

“Yes, have as much as you want,” I encourage him. It’s the first time, I think, but he gave me so much, made me feel so welcome, and I want to give him something back.

“I want all of you,” he breathes into my neck, licking and kissing my bleeding skin. “Fuck, Jaga. I want you forever as my bride, as my consort, my wife, as mother of my children. Say yes. Just say you’ll be mine.”

“I want you, too,” I whisper, a hot blush staining my cheeks, because it was never me confessing my feelings, always him, but I have things to tell him, too. “You’re so powerful. So magical. I want you so much.”

The words feel clumsy in my mouth, too big and too hot, but he groans with pleasure as if I gave him the most beautiful confession.

“Yes. Tell me, love,” he whispers, the dress coming apart as he slides it off my shoulders, the seams turning into black smoke. “Tell me how much you want me. I need to hear it.”

“I tried not to,” I admit, desire and shame squirming in my belly. “But I can’t help it. When I look at you, I… You’re so beautiful, and… And I can’t help but want you. Love you. You are… You’re magic itself, so glittering, so precious, and who am I… Who am I not to love you?”

He freezes, pulling away until our eyes meet, and he looks astonished, his bloodied lips parted, eyes wide as he takes me in. He looks so much younger like this, and I don’t understand which of my words shocked him so much. I thought it was utterly obvious. After all, I stayed here, by his side, only going when he neglected me for too long.

But now, when he stays with me all the time, all my plans of going to Weles evaporate. I don’t need much—just his attention, his sweet words, his touch.

“Say it,” he whispers, hoarse and demanding.

“Which part?” I ask with a self-conscious little laugh, knowing I’ll say anything, whatever he asks for, because I’m glowing with love and happiness, and I want him to glow, too.

There’s a moment of hesitation, when something glitters in his eyes, a sudden coldness, a calculation… But then he breathes, and his eyes soften. This Woland is warm and soft, and he demands simple, perfect things.

“That you love me.”

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