Page 96 of Devil's Doom

“What do you require from me, master?”

“Duel my consort. I want to see what she’s learned.”

Wera’s mouth stretches in a hideous smile, and I already know she’ll go even harder on me than normal. I scoff, trying to shake off Woland’s hands that rest heavy on my shoulders. Thinking no one will hear me, I mutter, “Duel me yourself if you’re so curious.”

The strzyga levels me with the snakelike stare of her milky eyes. “Is that how you address your master?” she asks, much too gleeful as she raises her expectant gaze to Woland. She probably thinks he’ll punish me.

“It’s been ages since anyone challenged me to a duel,” he says with a low laugh. “But that’s my pet—so ambitious. Say, love, have you conquered Wera at least once in your training?”

“She has not, master,” the strzyga replies with an unpleasant titter.

He turns me so I face him, his grin sharp and blinding. “Then I guess I’ll have to go easy on you. I accept your challenge. And I’ll even give you a fighting chance, no matter how meager.”

He presses his clawed palm to my chest. Magic pours in, heady and rich, and the air fills with the faint smell of poppies and lovage, and something else, something dark and rainy. It’s too much, too fast. I grip his forearm to steady myself when my legs threaten to buckle, even as my heart hammers with joy, welcoming my own magic that he took away last night.

It feels intimate, much too forceful, and I grit my teeth to stop from making needy sounds of arousal. My entire body thrums, awake and brimming with power.

“Done,” Woland says, his voice pitched low. “Let’s fight. Try to stay on your feet for longer than three minutes.”

He takes my hand, the one with the ring, and leads me to the nearest empty duel area. As soon as we cross the line drawn on the floor, the barriers hum to life, trapping us inside.

I bite my tongue quite hard. I’ve never been more furious with myself for talking without thinking, because it’s obvious Woland will destroy me within a matter of seconds. And it shouldn’t be so humiliating, because he’d probably defeat anyone here easily, but my stupid pride won’t let me lose.

And lose I will.

When he faces me, his cock is half-hard, and he palms it without shame, giving himself a long stroke.

“I like this game, pet,” he says, eyes lecherous as they slide down my body. “Are you ready?”

Around us, the forge is quiet. Everyone watches, and I don’t think I’ll ever be ready for this, but what can I do? I widen my stance, calling my magic to hum at my fingertips, and give him a curt nod.

Not a second passes when a spell slices down my shoulder, barely grazing my skin. It cuts through the seams connecting my sleeve to the rest of my shirt. I hiss and whirl away, conjuring an invisible rope to tangle around his hooves. Woland dismisses my spell with a lazy flick of his fingers and sends another cut my way. My second sleeve sports a gaping hole.

“Are you trying to undress me?” I ask, flicking a harmless itching spell at his groin.

The air in front of him shimmers with a shield that easily repels my attack.

“Yes. And you’re doing nothing to stop it.”

When another slicing hex flies at my shoulder, I call a shield just in time. Woland sends something glittering and dark my way, and the shield shatters. We exchange a few more hexes, and I manage to avoid most of his, yet I still end up with my shirt barely hanging around my shoulders.

“Ha!”

Woland’s hex lands, and the shirt falls off me, revealing the thin undershirt below that I know is quite see-through. He grins, and I lose the remnants of my control. Around us, people whisper, and someone laughs under their breath. I discard all the flimsy,efficientspells Wera taught me, since they never worked for me, anyway.

Mud, I think, focusing on the floor under his hooves.Wet, thin, sucking mud.

Magic pours out of me in waves, and the floor transforms. He looks down in surprise, just as his hooves sink in the squelching mass. As he raises his hand to dismiss my spell, I end it myself.

The floor is stone again. And he’s trapped.

“Clever,” Woland huffs, completely unconcerned. “But I only need to do this.”

He snaps his fingers, and the stone cracks. I’m not done, though. While he’s busy walking out of the rubble, I send invisible spiderwebs to wrap around his antlers. Their hold is loose, weightless, and I don’t think he notices it.

Woland steps onto the even floor and sends a sharp cutting spell to my belt. I don’t put up a shield. Instead, I gather dozens of my spiderwebs into my palm andtug.

“What the…”

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