Page 44 of Devil's Doom

“I gave you too much,” he says in a ragged voice. “The things you make me do. Fuck, how I hate you.”

“Yet you behave so much better than when you claimed to love me,” I say, my voice dreamy and slow, my mind and body suffused with the glittering force of his power.

Woland snorts. “You still have that sharp tongue. Good.”

He slides his claws through my hair, combing it gently. When I open my eyes, I realize we’re surrounded by his shadows. That means we’re outside time, and it helps me relax. In the aftermath of our intimate blood exchange, I need this moment of peace.

I’ll hate him later. I’ll fight him. But this stolen moment I take.

“Where are we?” I ask, settling more comfortably against his naked chest.

His skin is smooth and warm, muscles playing underneath as he moves to accommodate me. He’s just as I remember him, gray-skinned, lean, robust. His antlers tower above me, and I hate the ease with which I accept him now.

The devil. My lover.

“I call this room the rock bottom. It’s the deepest cavern in the rebel base,” he says. “The toll does not reach here. It’s where I stay when I’m in Slawa.”

We sit in silence, and it feels like the last few weeks haven't happened. But they have. He lied to me. He used me. And as I think about it, the warmth flowing through my limbs evaporates, a chill of fear settling in.

Here I am, so comfortable in his arms and drunk on his blood. So foolish, because this is another lie, another deceit, another manipulation.

Woland doesn’t truly need anyone, and certainly not as desperately as he pretends to need me. He is older than time and powerful beyond comprehension. And who am I?

A mortal woman who had the misfortune to be included in a prophecy. I am no one.

Woland growls quietly as I pull away, my body rigid. When I look at him, his face is perfectly blank, eyes opaque. That’s the devil I know, his mask firmly in place. His emotions are wiped clean, just like that, and it reinforces my conviction that he lied to me again. Nobody can shut down true passion just like that. It’s unnatural.

I grit my teeth and make my threat.

“If you touch them, I’ll go to Perun and give myself to him. I don’t care how much time and power it takes. I’ll do it.”

Woland releases a slow breath, something glittering deep in his eyes. His tail twitches with tension, but otherwise, he’s still.

After a long pause in which my heart launches into a violent rhythm of desperation and fear, he nods once.

“Let’s negotiate.”

Chapter sixteen

Trust

I try to get off his lap, but he holds me without effort, his eyes quizzical as he observes my struggle. I huff with frustration, squirming in the cage of his arms until I end up straddling him, my hands planted on his chest.

When I make a little headway, he simply readjusts his hold and brings me closer, until my skirt bunches around my hips, my core pressed against his erection. His mouth twitches in a small smirk, a fissure in his mask, and I groan in helpless fury.

I wish I didn’t spend all my magic. My well is filled to the brim, but it’s his power, and as I once learned, I can’t use his own magic against him. All I have is my physical strength, and it’s clearly not enough.

When my attempt to break free makes his cock buck against me, I give up, shooting him a foul look. Woland chuckles with obvious pleasure.

“Negotiating implies a level of trust,” I hiss. “I don’t trust you at all.”

He inclines his head slowly, his neck muscles taut under the weight of his antlers. “And yet, we will negotiate, because I have power over your friends, and you’re currently helpless to stop me. Honestly, Jaga. Sometimes, you’re such a thrilling challenge, and then you blunder so badly.”

I dig my nails into his chest. “How did I blunder?”

“You found people to care about. Again. When will you learn? The only way to be strong is to stay completely self-reliant. Caring for others is a weakness. Believe me. I am ruthless enough to exploit it, and I’m not the only one.”

I stare at his smug face, his eyes hooded, that glib mouth so sensuous, and I have an urge to claw his smirk right off. He’s right. Lech, Rada, and Dar being at Woland’s mercy is my worst nightmare, andof courseit happened. I should have learned not to make friends.

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