Devil's Deal: A Dark Fantasy Romance

10. Outcast

Woland moves with surprising grace for someone of his size and bulk. He leads me effortlessly through the grass, turning me until my skirts flare. The flowers in my chaplet brush his chin when he pulls me close.

I am rigid in his hold, clearly unwilling, but he doesn’t seem to notice.

“Please, just let me go home,” I finally grit out after he turns me fast, his hooves closely avoiding my bare feet. He hasn’t stepped on me even once. He’s a skilled dancer while I’ve only danced a handful of times in my life and feel unsure of my every step.

And yet, as he leads, I follow flawlessly. The dance is fast, matching the rhythm of the wild, intoxicating music.

The fact I move with ease is another proof of his skill, I grudgingly admit. It doesn’t make me hate him less, though. Now that he’s no longer controlling my body’s reactions, all I feel at his touch is revulsion.

“No. I always get what I want, poppy girl. You’re no different.”

I snort at the arrogance in his deep, resonant voice. As if I hadn’t just proven that he cannot and will not have me. As if I hadn’t resisted him so well, he was dumbfounded.

“You doubt me,” he says, an edge of amusement creeping into his voice. “But I know how to bend mortals to my will. By the end of the night, you will beg to be mine.”

His confident words startle a laugh out of me, and it’s so loud and hearty, it turns heads. Strzybog, who’s dancing nearby with a willowy girl in a skimpy garment of woven flowers, shoots me a curious look.

“You make my skin crawl with disgust,” I say, looking up into Woland’s yellow eyes. “And you know what? I don’t respect you, either. Just like you have no respect for me.”

His eyebrow rises in question, but the amused expression stays. He clearly has no regard for my opinion of him, and suddenly, I want my words to cut him, even just a little. I want him to hurt.

“You don’t respect me? I am a god and your better.” There is not a crumb of doubt in his voice. He sounds dismissive.

So full of himself. I laugh bitterly, my skirts flaring as he turns me before his warm palm settles on my waist again.

“And yet, you’re just like every pathetic, little man living in this village. So similar to weak, mortal men who are good for nothing.”

His mouth purses, eyes narrowing. I swallow down my fear and celebrate. My aim was true, my words hitting a sore spot.

“How am I like them?” he grits out, turning me so fast, I almost lose my balance. When I am in his grip again, tighter this time because anger guides his touch, I catch my breath before I answer.

“Because just like every other gutless, stupid man I know, you can’t control your temper. When someone makes you angry, you hurt them. There is no finesse, no control. You’re so pathetically weak.”

He stops entirely, his claws digging into my waist. His eyes blaze with fury, and I brace myself for a hit, knowing this might be the last one. He is so strong, so powerful, he could snap my neck as easily as I snap a branch off a dead tree.

I prepare myself and clench my teeth, swearing I will not cry or beg. I’ll die with dignity. I’m ready.

But Woland doesn’t raise his hand or call on his magic. Instead, he closes his eyes and exhales a long, hot breath. I frown suspiciously, wondering if it’s a ploy to make me drop my guard.

When his eyes flash open, I flinch. There is a world of fury swirling in his yellow irises, and yet, when he moves again, his every step is measured and controlled. His claws stay off my skin, his hands resting lightly on my body.

“You value men who don’t resort to violence?” he asks in a calm, inquiring voice that belies the fire in his eyes.

Oh. I see. He’s trying to prove me wrong.

“No.” I snort, a heady pulse of power making my body tingle with pleasure.

The devil has just changed his behavior because of what I said. I’m sure it won’t last and I don’t trust him, but it still gives me a rush. Suddenly, I feel so powerful, it rises in me like a potent glow. I brim with magic.

His deference to my opinion feels like a tiny seed of respect.

Woland’s gaze sharpens as he studies my face, his eyes flicking down to my chest. “What, then?” he asks when I don’t elaborate.

“I value people who use their violence like a weapon. Only when it’s needed, honed with skill to hit the mark. I don’t value a lamb that lays its head down for slaughter. Nor do I value a rabid dog that bites everything it can reach.”

When I don’t continue, Woland huffs in impatience, his nostrils flaring. Yet, when he speaks, his voice is cool and polite.

“And what do you value?”

I think for a moment, trying to find an analogy that will fit the previous ones.

“A ram that kills the fox to protect its young.”

Suddenly, Woland’s white teeth flash in a blinding grin. He twirls me fast and grabs me smoothly, pressing me closer until my dress tangles between his legs. I glance down and right back up, doing my best to ignore his cock hanging heavy between his thighs.

“What if you’re the fox threatening my herd, poppy girl?” he whispers in my ear, his breath so hot and intimate, it makes me gasp. “Didn’t you think of that?”

It takes me a moment to gather my thoughts, because a flustered, hot feeling ties my tongue and makes me stupid. This time, I am positive it’s not his power influencing me. I react to his nakedness and proximity.

And I shouldn’t. Get a grip, Jaga.

“Why do you want me if I am a threat to you, then? And what do you want me for?” I ask, forcing myself to look boldly into his eyes and pretend I’m unaffected.

He moves to the side, taking me with him, and we dance in a circle, feet and hooves moving in a perfect rhythm. Gods, if it wasn’t him, I would enjoy myself so much.

“Why do you want to visit the past?” he asks instead of answering, and I grit my teeth.

It’s a clear reminder of the condition he set earlier. He won’t reveal his reasons until I give him mine, and that’s not going to happen.

When I say nothing, he smirks, the air of smugness surrounding him like a halo.

“I’ll ask you something else,” he says after a pause, in which I focus on the wild rhythm, the music and fast movements making me feel hot and delighted despite my wretched company.

I can’t help but notice I got to dance, after all. And I spoke to the gods. I met Strzybog himself, and Nyja, and a dragon. Despite all the unpleasant parts, this is the best Kupala Night in my life.

“If you won’t talk about the past, what of your future, then? What do you look forward to?” he asks, turning me gracefully until my skirts billow in a whirlwind.

And just like that, my fragile joy shatters into pieces. Future? To be truthful, my future terrifies me more than my past. So much depends on it, and I feel too inept to make it what it needs to be. But I cannot tell him that.

My future is tightly woven with my past.

I shoot him a baleful look and purse my lips. Woland’s smirk turns into a grin of self-satisfaction, which I hate with all my might. At that moment, my fists itch with the need to strike him, and I bite the inside of my cheek to control myself.

“Is that another secret?” he asks, his voice pleasant, yet taunting. “Or is your future so bleak, you have nothing to say?”

I grit my teeth and look away from his knowing gaze. He’s close to the mark, and that frustrates me more than I care to admit. I look around to calm the rage and humiliation humming under my skin.

We’re close to the far edge of the circle, most of the creatures dancing closer to the river, which gives us some privacy. Outside the circle, there is a stretch of empty grass until another bonfire. In the light of it, the maidens dance.

I blink and then shiver as a loud moan makes me look more closely. Ida is there among other girls, their breasts bared, the remains of their dresses barely staying around their hips. A young man drops his mouth to Ida’s throat and kisses a clumsy, eager path down to her nipple. She moans again.

I look away, an unpleasant flush creeping up my neck. I hate that I am so affected by the sight of it. Normally, talk of sex and breeding, or even the sight of naked bodies, doesn’t daunt me, but this is different.

This is the Kupala queen being worshiped by a man the way I never was and never will be.

“What if I told you I can fill your future with adventure and bliss?” Woland’s quiet, tempting voice slithers in my ear. I gasp, his words pushing right through my defenses and landing dangerously close to my biggest vulnerabilities. “What if I said you could have power and glory at my side? All the magic you desire, immortal life, and pleasure beyond imagining?”

I wait for him to say I can have it if only I offer myself to him. Then, I will laugh in his face. No matter how brittle I feel, I’ll never belong to the devil.

But he doesn’t. He stops dancing, one hand on my waist, one cradling my palm. I glance at him in surprise and flinch when I find his keen eyes studying my face with intense curiosity. Gone is his arrogance, gone is impatience. He watches me with fascination, as if I am the most interesting thing in the world.

As if he tries to penetrate into the deepest parts of me with his gaze alone.

I swallow nervously, pleasure and unease rising in my belly. This is too much. Somehow, his interest feeds a starving, neglected piece of me, and it clamors for more. I can’t bring myself to look away. I don’t want him to stop.

“I see you,” he says quietly, making shivers break down my nape. “I see the longing. Oh, Jaga, you could have it all.”

Look away, I tell myself, but my eyes won’t budge. I am completely mesmerized. “Have what?” I ask, and my throat is so tight, my voice comes out croaky.

“Men at your feet, begging for a touch or a smile,” he says in a low voice, smooth like honey. Another blissful moan comes from nearby, and I shiver. “People and beings of all kinds begging for your favor. Those who despised and hated you, cowering at your feet in terror. Those who rejected you, begging for your company. You could be queen in her place, Jaga. It’s so easy. Just reach out and pluck what you want.”

His eyes hold mine trapped, the gold highlights dancing in his irises like a promise of magic. The image he painted for me is perfect. I want all those things, crave them with a force so great, it claws at my insides with longing.

I want them so much, I am ready to believe him.

Ida moans again, and my mesmerized thoughts briefly flit to her. There she is, the queen taking her due. Taking pleasure and worship tonight, only to be trapped tomorrow in a marriage to a violent, demanding man, her honeyed pussy itching and hurting for weeks to come.

I blink. That is not what I want. It’s stupid to be jealous of a joy so fleeting.

“I’ll give it to you all.” Woland’s voice drops an octave, a tantalizing, masculine purr that shakes me to my core. “If you say you’re mine.”

There it is.

I release a long, regretful sigh. For a moment there, I thought I could have the world. I thought I held the interest of the most powerful being I know. But it was all an illusion. Just another way he manipulates me.

“So you can’t just claim me if you want,” I say softly, looking into his demonic eyes. Somehow, they are no longer yellow, but gold like jewels in his gray face. “You need my verbal consent. Tell me, devil. Will you kill me when you realize I’ll never say those words to you?”

His eyes widen and then flare with anger. I swallow tightly, preparing for the worst. Because surely, I finally did it. He’ll kill me for my obstinacy.

To be fair, Wiosna said it might happen. I still remember her warning. “You stubborn girl. One day, you will meet your match. I pity you, because you’ll suffer greatly.”

I gasp when Woland’s arms go around me, pressing me close to his body. His chin rests on the top of my head, the front of my chaplet squished against his throat. When something sharp prickles my skin next to my navel, I hiss and jerk, but he holds me closer.

Yet, I blush, knowing what it is. The thorns.

“Maybe one day,” he answers my question, sounding surprisingly calm. “Well, then. You hated being disrespected, so you will be pleased to know I hold you in esteem now. No mortal has ever resisted me for so long.”

I blink a few times and say nothing while his chest rises and falls with deep, calm breaths. He holds me like… No, I won’t even go there. I don’t understand him. His moods change so rapidly. And I’m sure this is just another way he’s trying to get under my skin.

I haven’t been held in so long, and by a man, never.

But I can’t let myself enjoy it. He’s the devil and everything he does is calculated. He’s plotting my doom.

So I make my body hard, even though all it wants is to melt into the embrace and just allow myself to be held. I can’t fall for his tricks. They are all lies, anyway.

Next thing I know, Woland is out of reach, swathed in black smoke and hidden from everyone. For a bitter moment of disappointment and relief, I wonder if he’s finally given up. If I can go home, back to my life of a scorned outcast.

But then, the laughing, half-naked maidens and their boys walk by. No longer afraid of the circle containing the gods, they come close, some of the girls shooting me contemptuous looks. Woland is hidden, half-melted into the dark where the light of the closest fire doesn’t reach. It looks like I stand alone.

Ida stops just outside the circle, watching me with a sneer.

“Your chaplet may be pretty, Jaga,” she says, her lip curling. “But when they all float down the river, you know what will happen? Everyone will chase after mine while yours will drown. Because nobody wants you here. Witch.”

I shrug, swallowing my anger and the flare of humiliation at her words. I hate that I feel this way but I’m helpless to stop it. What she says is true. If I let my chaplet float with theirs, no one would catch it, and I want to be indifferent to that knowledge, but I’m not.

It hurts. I’m good at hiding it, though.

“Have fun,” I tell her, letting my body and face relax into indifference. “And when it starts to itch, I recommend yarrow brew.”

Ida scoffs and walks away, throwing me a triumphant smirk over her shoulder when Janek puts his arm around her. I know he’s the one she wants to catch her chaplet. Tall and strong, he’s also going to inherit the best fields in the area. All the girls pine after him.

“I finally see why you reject the eternity at my side,” Woland says, appearing close as the smoke blows away. “A life of humiliation among peasants is so far more appealing than ruling alongside a god.”

“You’re not a god,” I say at once, doing my best to ignore his amusement at my expense and the uncomfortable sting of truth in his voice.

He’s right. My current life isn’t worth shit, and until tonight, I thought it was my only option of survival.

But can I trust him? Is he truly offering me a future as the queen at his side? No, of course not. He’s a liar. Besides, a queen is not owned, and that’s what he wants from me. He wants to be my master, and I will never bow to him.

I’d rather die.

“Am I not?” he asks, coming closer. “I surely am not mortal, so what would you call me?”

He puts his arm around my shoulders, turning us both so we look at the maidens and young men by the river. The maidens stand in a row, chattering excitedly while the men strip to nothing in preparation for the race.

“I don’t know,” I say, a weight of despondence growing in my chest. “I want to go home.”

When Woland presses me closer with a quiet laugh, I know he will not let me. But that’s fine. I’ll survive, like I always do.

Only a few hours are left until dawn. Whatever he has in store, I can take it.

I’m sure of it.