Page 45 of Devil's Doom

At the same time, I couldn’t have stopped it. When they came into my life, I was starving for company and affection. And if you starve someone long enough and then put food in front of them, they won’t be able to stop eating.

“Fine. I haven’t learned. But it seems like you’ve learned little, too. I’m disappointed,” I say, forcing my voice to be calm.

He raises a single eyebrow. “Oh? And what haven’t I learned?”

“What happened the last time you killed my friend?” I ask through clenched teeth. “Did it work out the way you wanted?”

His eyes glitter, that obnoxious smirk gone. I stare at him with belligerence until he heaves a long-suffering sigh and purses his lips.

“Your friends are still alive, aren’t they?” he asks, angry and a bit petulant. “But their continued existence depends on what we decide in this room. I can let them live. I can send their souls to Wyraj. Or I can obliterate their bodies and souls until nothing is left. Which is why you will negotiate with me—you can’t afford not to.”

Even as he threatens me with things that make my blood chill in my veins, he keeps playing with my hair. I wonder why. Is it something he enjoys or simply another manipulation tactic?

I hate that I can’t tell when he lies. I used to think strong lust or anger made him honest, but I learned the hard way that he can easily deceive me while buried thorns-deep in my cunt.

The devil’s deceit isn’t just limited to words. He lies with his whole body, and it’s sick, but I crave that body and his lies. My chest warms with longing, my core pulsing with need, and I bite the inside of my cheek, doing my best to hide it.

He grips my hair and sharply bares my throat. I cry out from pain even as a wanton spark of desire shoots through my belly. I’m as twisted as he is.

But Woland isn’t about to guzzle more of my blood. His fingers trace the space between my collarbones, his eyes tight with a frown. When I try to look down, his hold loosens, and he lets me. I notice the faintest reddish glow painting the skin over my sternum.

“So that’s where it is,” the devil whispers, stroking that place until it flares with sensitivity. “A part of me that you willingly put inside you. That’s perverse, little witch.”

I try to scoff, but it comes out forced. My heart beats faster, his touch and that peculiar, intense look in his eyes making me squirm.

“I had to hide it from you. You’d take it away.”

He hums in thought, gazing at that glow, his fingers stroking and stroking in a hypnotic rhythm. He speaks with slow deliberation, as if trying to solve a riddle.

“Maybe. But you could have chosen any other way. You could have made me unable to touch it or a number of other things. But you chose to bury it next to your heart.”

Suddenly, he grins, his eyes sparkling with triumph. My throat grows dry. Even as I can’t help but drink in his gorgeous face, cold shivers crawl down my spine. I feel like he discovered something, only—what? I didn’t bury the pendant inside me consciously. I just wanted to hide it, and my magic did the rest.

“Here is what I propose,” Woland says with an easy smile, confident and infinitely amused. “You and your friends will stay here and join the rebellion. You, my darling, will make yourself available whenever I want to have your blood or fuck. And in return, I will protect your friends and stop trying to claim you.”

“No.”

That word is a reflex. It’s what I always say to him, and my panic at his suddenly triumphant mood makes me resort to old patterns. Woland doesn’t seem deterred, a low chuckle vibrating in his throat.

“Fine. I feel generous today, so I’ll let you choose how they die.”

He grins like it’s a good joke. I clench my fists and hit his chest once, frustrated.

“No. Let me think it through.”

“Oh, think away. I’ll amuse myself while you consider.”

Before I have time to ask what he plans, Woland’s large hand settles low on my back. He pulls me closer in a sharp tug, his erection nestling between my legs. He rolls his hips, his eyes on me, sparkling smugly.

“Gods,” I gasp out, trying to sound dismayed even though I’m anything but.

I hate him, I fear him, yet I missed him with all my being. Now that he’s here, seducing me like the devil he is, I can’t even pretend to be indifferent.

“What’s the matter?” he asks with false concern. “Do I distract you?”

“Eat your tail,” I grumble, looking away to hide my blush.

He laughs, warm and hearty, and I clench my teeth, resisting the urge to look at him. Woland is beautiful when he laughs, but I should probably train myself to stop noticing it. I wish I were more in control, but my body comes alive under his touch, and it feels too good to deny myself.

---