Page 114 of Devil's Doom

“You’re thinking too much,” he grunts, his heavy arm pressing me closer. “Stop. Whatever it is, you can think about it tomorrow. Just relax, sweet thing. Everything’s good.”

“Such a man,” I mutter under my breath, trying to get comfortable on top of him.

Being fused together for long stretches of time feels too intimate. Even though I like the forced closeness, my thighs cramp from straddling him, and the thorns pull at me with every move. I still don’t understand why he puts them in me so often, since he can apparently control whether they come out or not.

“Woland, you don’t need to use the thorns every time.”

He makes a sleepy grunt, his hips flexing as if to check whether we’re still tightly connected. We are.

“But I do. Feels good. Stop thinking.”

Only, I can’t. He’s so relaxed, so utterly at peace, and my mind won’t stop turning. I remember flashes of the party, all those rebels smiling and so accepting. My gut tenses with foreboding. Something bad is going to happen, I just know.

“Woland?”

There’s the barest hint of impatience in his voice, but he sounds mostly resigned. “Yes? What is it?”

“You promised me long ago you’d answer a question when your thorns were inside me. Over a month passed, and I forgot, but now I remember, and well, you said you want to be better at keeping your word.”

He groans with such utter reluctance, I can’t help but giggle. This sleepy, domestic Woland is so far removed from the fearsome rebel leader. He’s almost cute, in a thorny, shadowy sort of way.

“Foul woman. Let me sleep.”

“But you don’t have to sleep,” I point out. “Come on. You promised.”

He shakes his head. “No, no, no. I need to sleep when you’re here. You’re so soft and you smell so good. You’re the best pillow. Please, poppy girl. I’ll tell you next time. I almost had a dream just now, a dream about fucking you right under the Great Oak. It was so nice. Mmm, let me dream. I want to see what happens.”

I laugh, shifting on top of him until he grunts, his cock flexing inside me.

“How am I a pillow? I’m on top of you.”

In a burst of shocking speed, he rolls us until I’m trapped under him, his weight pressing me into the mattress.

“And now I’m on top. Fuck, you’re like a fly. Buzzing and buzzing. Very well. What was the question?”

“The purpose of the latest rebel attack. It wasn’t to bring the fence down, so what was it?”

The sound he makes is very close to a muffled moan. I smile into his chest, and Woland rolls us again until he’s on his back. I sit up to look at him, but his eyes are barely cracked open, face etched in an expression of mock suffering. Gods, he’s adorable.

“There, there,” I say, patting his meaty chest. “Just tell me and you can sleep, I promise.”

“Foul woman,” he says with emphasis. “Fine. I don’t really want to bring down the fence. Nienad is working on a way to contaminate the magic that Perun harvests with his tolls. That’s the actual goal of every rebel attack. While Perun sends scores of his dragons to repel us, a small, invisible task force works on the underlying magic that powers the entire fence. We’re almost done, too. Just one more attack, and we should see some promising results. Maybe the Great Oak will wither and die. I can’t wait to see it.”

I shake my head, astonished. This is so much more elaborate than what everyone believes the rebels are doing. I remember people in the city grumbling about Woland’s movement, saying that all they do is hit the fence at random and fight Perun’s dragons.

“How many of your people actually know about this?” I ask.

He shrugs. “Nienad, me, now you… A few others. I don’t trust most of my people with truly important information, and I’d appreciate it if you kept this to yourself.”

“They bow to you and build altars to worship you,” I say, flabbergasted. “And you won’t even trust them to know your true goals? Oh, gods. They don’t know the actual reason why they fight and die.”

Woland scoffs, not at all moved by my reasoning. “Of course they know the true goal: bring down Perun. Jaga, be realistic. I have spies in Wyraj. Perun’s own son, Strzybog, is my spy, a lousy one, but still. And if that’s the case, it’s obvious Perun has spies in my movement, too. The only reason he hasn’t raided our base is because of the ancient magic that keeps him out. But he knows we’re here, right under his nose. He probably knows everything that’s public knowledge among the rebels.”

I nod slowly. It’s actually shocking that he trustsmewith this information, but then, I do know one of his most closely guarded secrets.

“So that’s why you looked for me yourself after I ran away rather than tell anyone about me?” I ask. “You don’t trust any of your people?”

“I don’t. And I actually debated wiping your memory, too, but you have a good reason to keep the prophecy to yourself, so I let you be.”

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