Page 83 of Devil's Doom

He comes closer, his tail swaying contentedly. I grit my teeth when he reaches for the ribbons fixing my cloak under my chin. He unties them with care, and the heavy fabric pools around my boots.

“Some can,” he answers, his predatory smile making me shiver with foreboding. Hereallywon’t let it go tonight. “I am unique in the way I respond to toxic substances. You see, common alcohol, even as strong as vodka, barely makes me tipsy. I need a stronger poison.”

His claws are careful yet insistent as he undoes the top three buttons at the front of my shirt. I clench my fists, breathing hard. Gods, to think that even yesterday, I would have rejoiced at his attention.Stupid heart.

“What does it mean? You’re drunk?” I ask, taking a step back when he pulls my shirt out of my trousers. “That’s enough. I don’t want you to touch me.”

He snorts, throwing his head in an animalistic gesture. “That’s too bad. And no, I’m not drunk—yet. But I will be, and love, let me tell you one thing: it took a formidable amount of self-control to watch you day after day and deny myself. Your little drink took away my willpower. In a moment, nothing will stop me.”

I swallow thickly, glancing at the door at the far end of the room. Woland grins and snaps his fingers. The door vanishes. A thick, uniform rock appears in its place.

“What…” I stumble back when he takes a step closer, the sound of his hoof echoing.

“Come now,” he says, his smile so wide, sopleased.“You missed me, didn’t you? You left because you had needs and I didn’t provide. Let me fix my mistake.”

“Touch me and I’ll stick you through with a knife,” I gasp, my hands flying to my belt where my weapon sits.

Woland huffs with amusement. My knife vanishes, just like the door. When I look down, helplessly trying to find it, the devil moves with breathtaking speed. He lays his palm on my chest, his arm snaking around my lower back until I’m trapped against him, a hard knee parting my legs.

A pulling sensation starts behind my sternum, a helpless drawing out that makes me feel liquid and lightheaded. My legs buckle, and he holds me up with a murmur.

“That’s it. See? That’s my good little witch. So strong, but you don’t need to be strong right now. I’ll take care of you. Just relax and let me do it, and if you need to fight me, fight. I’ll take it all. I’m done promising myself it will stop. I’ll always want you. Fuck, you drive me insane.”

When he pulls his hand away, I blink heavily, touching my sternum with confusion. I feel hollow, somehow. Drained, but… But I had so much magic just now.

“Try to repel me, love,” he says, his smile obscenely wide. “Go on. Make your skin thorny again.”

Spikes, I think. The spell has served me well in the past, yet now, it doesn’t work. My chest pangs with hunger.

It takes me a moment to understand what happened. Woland laughs under his breath, his fingers kneading my waist.

“You took my magic,” I whisper with horror. “I didn’t know you could do that.”

“You know little about me,” he says, picking me up so suddenly, I choke on my breath. Steps steady, he carries me into the bathroom. My boots drop to the floor on the way, pulled off with magic.

“See, Jaga, I spent a long time watching you, back in the mortal world and here. I know a lot already. For example, I know that you don’t give up until all your resources are spent. In each of your duels with Wera, you fought viciously until a moment came when your magic was spent, your weapons knocked out of your hands, and you couldn’t scratch or bite anymore. That’s when you gave up.”

The bathroom looks splendid. Hundreds of tiny light orbs float under the ceiling, some of them golden, others pink or red. They dance slowly, circling each other. The shimmering light is soft and sensual. The air smells of roses, heavily scented steam rising from the bath.

But that’s not the loveliest part. The floor is a meadow of soft grasses and flowers, so out of place here at the bottom of his dungeon.

Woland truly outdid himself, yet I cannot appreciate it. My chest hollows with a sickly feeling of powerlessness. With no magic and no door, no weapon and no poison, I can’t defeat him.

“You need to believe there is no way out, and then you’ll cave,” he says softly, letting me stand in the cool grass. Behind him, the door disappears, replaced by solid rock. “I have no interest in letting you refuse. You’re going to take me, you’ll let me make you come, and just this once, we’ll fuck for fun. I’m tired of tricking you with deals and trades. Take me because you want me.”

“But I don’t want you,” I whisper, my voice hoarse with fear and helpless desire I’m unable to control.

By gods, he’s right. When there’s no way out, I lose my will to fight. Curse him.

“You do,” he says with a smile, pulling my shirt up. “Be good and raise your arms.”

I obey because I see no way to stop him. Not only do I have no magic, I am physically weak from the lack of it. My legs shake, and when Woland pulls off my shirt with murmured words of praise, I want nothing more than to burrow into a nest of blankets and sleep.

Maybe that’s the answer. Maybe he’ll get what he wants and then leave me alone if I don’t participate.

When careful claws unbuckle my belt and unbutton my trousers, I look aside, telling myself the fire in my belly is just nausea, the tingling between my legs—a phantom sensation. But when Woland pulls my trousers down and guides my face up to look at him, I can’t pretend anymore.

He has me trapped and helpless, and for a sick, twisted reason, my body responds to that with shocking need.

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