Page 97 of Devil's Doom

He falls hard, his body prostrated in front of me, his antlers almost at my feet. Meanwhile, my trousers drop, my belt cut through, but it doesn’t matter, because the forge erupts with screams of outrage, and I’m cackling, gleeful and triumphant.

And then, I’m not.

A powerful force wraps around me, pressing my arms to my sides. I fall, unable to keep my balance, and Woland is on me, angry and delighted as he kisses me heavily, his hand groping my breast.

“So powerful,” he breathes into my mouth before sucking on my lower lip, his hot tongue pressing to mine. “Such a strong witch.”

I try to push him away, the laughs and murmurs around us making me keenly aware that everyone’s watching, but Woland grips my wrists in one hand and presses them to the floor above my head.

“Go on. Blast me off, you pretty thing. I know you can.”

He kisses my throat, his erection digging into my thigh, and I don’t understand how he can keep going after the night we had.

“People are looking,” I choke out, gathering my magic as best I can despite how distracting his kisses are.

“I want them to see. You’re only mine. Everyone will see it,” he says, coming back to my mouth.

He devours me with deep kisses, humming with pleasure until my lips tingle from the vibration of his voice. When his hand dives between my legs, finger pressing to my back entrance to prepare me for his cock, I let my magic fly.

I intend to do exactly as he said—blast him off—but Woland doesn’t even twitch despite the enormous amounts of power I put into the spell. He pulls away enough to look at me, his eyes glittering with amusement.

“Then again, nothing will push me off when I’m on top of you.”

His finger is right there, making me warm, wet, and relaxed, and I breathe faster, hating that my body responds so eagerly to him, even despite the crowd of onlookers whispering while they watch, as shameless as he is.

“Woland,” I say through clenched teeth. “Please. Not here.”

I expect him to ignore my plea and take me right on the floor, in front of a few dozen rebels, so it’s a surprise when he pulls away from my throat and places a tender kiss on my cheek.

“How about now?”

His shadows cover us from every side, the space growing quiet save for our heavy breaths. I relax, knowing we’re hidden, and he dives back for my lips as if he can’t stop kissing me even for a moment.

“The way you wield magic makes me so horny,” he says between kisses, his lips soft and warm. “I love how you manage to surprise me. So smart.”

When he slips inside me, there is a moment of pain, of stretching and bursting. I wince, turning my face away, and he strokes my temple, murmuring words of comfort and praise.

“It won’t hurt in a moment. Fuck, you feel so good around me. So magical. My perfect girl. Here, let me make you come. It will feel better, I promise.”

He brings me to orgasm with his fingers, then fucks me in long, even thrusts, and I forget about where we are until he comes deep inside me, without thorns this time, and his shadows disperse.

The murmuring voices return, and as he pulls out with a pleased grunt, I’m deeply aware of our audience. I cover myself hastily with my torn clothes while he’s already up, his glistening cock swinging between his thighs.

“I’m pleased with her progress,” he says to Wera, walking out of our training area while the barriers disappear. “But she should be tested in the field, as well.”

She bows deeply. “I’ll design a suitable test.”

I patch my clothes with magic, fixing my belt until I’m more or less clothed. I know my face is flushed, forehead sweaty, and when I look around, I meet too many magical eyes, insensitive in their prying. Draga raises her hand in a cheerful wave, then my eyes catch Lech’s blue ones.

His mouth tilts in a sardonic grin, and he gives me a curt nod. I’ve seen him around, but ever since he told me he hated my company, I haven’t talked to him. A pang of sadness squeezes my chest, and I bury it, turning sharply away.

“Let’s go.”

Woland takes my hand, his thumb stroking my skin a few times. He leads me out of the forge, and when we’re alone, he presses my back to a wall, leaning his forearm over my head.

“Are you all right?”

I stare up into those treacherous, golden eyes, desperately trying to pierce through them, into the depths of his mind. What is he thinking? My head spins with confusion, but the glittering gold of his irises holds no answers. I don’t even know whether I can trust the worried tilt of his brows.

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