Devil's Deal: A Dark Fantasy Romance

16. Nettle

He looks at me, grinning in the light of one smoking torch, and all I want to do is claw out his eyes. But Woland stands at his full size, teeth bared tauntingly, and I know I can’t attack him and win. I am not powerful enough to get my revenge yet.

But that doesn”t mean I have to be polite. Without a word, I put both buckets in the corner and survey the barn. I had a look at it before, taking in the horrifying sight of a dozen lambs ripped to shreds by a feral creature. Now, only smaller bits and the blood are left behind.

Men have carried out the corpses to burn outside the village.

“Did you do it?” I ask in a cold voice that trembles slightly, but not from fear. I’m livid. “You get a kick out of killing baby animals?”

I don’t look at him, and when Woland laughs, loud and hearty, I clench my jaw so hard, my teeth hurt.

“I can tell you who did,” he says, his voice light and amused, as if he’s about to share some juicy gossip.

But of course. To him, it’s all play. I’m sure if it were mortal blood staining the packed earth, he’d be just as amused. Maybe more.

Bile rises up my throat, my hate so strong, it chokes me. Bogna’s mauled face flashes in my mind and I clench my fists, wishing like hell I’d prepared better. I was so convinced the devil was done with me. I thought I’d have to find him myself, and that meant I had time to learn and prepare.

Yet, here he is, and I am as defenseless as those lambs were. I’ll have more foresight next time.

“Yes, you can tell me, but I’m sure it will be a lie. So no, thank you,” I say, forcing my voice to sound cool.

I ignore him, bringing the torch to examine the walls instead. I’ll start with those. Hopefully, by the time I’m done with the mess, the packed earth will soften enough for the men to shovel it out in the morning and bring in fresh soil. The barn will be as good as new.

When a dark, clawed hand wraps around my throat, lightly but firmly, I gasp and almost drop the torch.

“Look at me when you speak,” he says, his voice a low purr. “And we still have to train you to take my name, little witch.”

He strokes the side of my neck with his thumb, and I swallow against his palm, tingles bursting along my spine. While I’d love to say my skin crawls with repulsion at his touch, that’s far from the truth. Hot helplessness flows through my veins, and I close my eyes for a moment, centering myself.

“I have nothing to say to you and your name is a curse,” I say, acutely aware of my vulnerable position. He can choke me. After all, he’s done that before. And if he wants to kill me, I am utterly at his mercy.

Really, I shouldn’t mouth off. Fear pools in my gut, and I stand still and frozen, my body rigid.

Woland’s palm tightens just a fraction and slides off, his claws teasing my skin. He steps away, the heat and mass of him disappearing from behind my back, and I gasp in a relieved breath.

“I have many names,” he says, his voice tinged with amusement. “Maybe you’ll like one of the others better than Woland.”

I take a deep breath to compose myself and turn, looking at him with all the indifference I can muster. I take in his towering form, the enormous, dark gray antlers, his yellow eyes that gleam like twin wills-o’-the-wisp, leading me astray.

He’s naked like he was that night. His hooves are dark with blood.

“I have work to do,” I say, glad my voice sounds unaffected. “Tell me what you want, I will tell you no, and let’s be done with it. You can go back to slaughtering babies or whatever you do in your free time.”

I expect him to lash out and rage, but instead, he laughs, his voice intimate and pleasant. Unease creeps up my back as my insides twist with recognition. My body remembers this sound. Even worse, it remembers how good he felt, and I hate myself for it.

After I’m done here, I’ll purge his every touch and every last piece of influence out of me, I swear.

“I don’t slaughter anyone, poppy girl,” he says, tilting his head to the side, his neck muscles cording. “Others do it on my bidding. But yes, if you’d like, I’ll take responsibility for what happened here.”

I swallow. So he is the one who killed the lambs, only… he didn’t do it. He sent another creature, then.

If I can believe him.

And I can’t. He’s a skilled liar and manipulator. Not only can’t I believe a word he says, I also shouldn’t trust my body around him, because he might control it. I growl in frustration and go back to my buckets. I dip an old rag in the vinegar and start scrubbing the nearest wall.

Behind me, Woland huffs in amusement, starting to pace evenly. His hooves splash in the bloody mess with every measured step. I force myself to look ahead and not glance back even as the hair on my nape rises, my instincts recognizing him for what he is.

A prowling beast.

“Why are you so cantankerous?” he asks after a long, tense pause. “Offended I didn’t give you a proper goodbye before I left? I’m sorry, dear. I’ll make sure to kiss you silly before I go this time.”

His voice echoes with mocking laughter. He makes it sound like we’re lovers who just had a spat, and not mortal enemies. I clench my teeth, Bogna’s smashed-in face appearing in front of me like an image burned onto the barn’s wall.

“What do you want?” I ask, scrubbing viciously.

Of course, the blood won’t come off, but that’s not the point. I’m removing the smell and the residue of death so animals can live here without fear.

“You,” he says, stopping behind me. His voice is serious for once, deep and resonating. It makes chills run up my back.

“I’m not available. If that’s all, you can go,” I say, forcing myself to breathe evenly.

His proximity unnerves me, and I sense he’s done playing. When he steps closer, his naked body brushing my dress, I swallow a startled gasp.

“You are available unless you got married since the last time I saw you,” he says mildly.

I clear my throat and move down the wall to scrub another part. He moves with me, his body just a whisper away from mine.

“Oh, is that all it takes to get you off my back?” I say, my voice trembling. “Should I just get married then?”

He inhales deeply, and then his mouth presses to the top of my head, his hand on my stomach. I freeze, gripping the dirty rag in my fist. The scent of vinegar burns my nose and all I can see is Bogna’s face etched into the bloody wood in front of me. I should be uncomfortable and disgusted, but I’m not.

Woland moves closer, his warmth racing across my skin. The pulse of terrified arousal in my belly makes me burn with shame.

Gods, how I hate him. Even more because I want him, too.

“If you marry a mortal man, I’ll eviscerate him before he has a chance to lie with you,” he says in a low, calm voice, his warm breath tingling over my scalp. “And then I’ll take you in your bloody marital bed whether you’re willing or not. I don’t care what you think, Jaga. You’re mine, and if you want me to prove it, I will.”

My breathing grows fast and ragged, my body shaking in tremors I can’t control. White hot fear burns inside me, swallowing up the hate, the unwelcome desire, and all my courage. Woland presses closer, making me whine in terror, then moves back with a satisfied hum.

His point is made. And I am blind from terror.

I brace both hands on the wall, fighting a dizzy spell so potent, black swirls before my eyes. Behind me, the devil snorts, either amused or annoyed. I don’t know. All I know is that my insides have shriveled into a ball of ice.

This time, I believe him. I believe he will rape me if he wants, and there is nothing I can do to stop him. I’ve never felt so helpless before.

And yet, when my feverish mind conjures the scene of what it might be like, with me screaming and thrashing under his violent weight, a red flame of need heats up the ice within me. My eyes widen when I realize what I feel, and I stumble out of the barn. I make it to a clump of nettle growing by the doors before I vomit all over it.

I pant, bent in half, the taste of acid in my mouth making me retch again. I sense rather than see Woland standing close. When I finally straighten, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand, he is in the doorway, watching me with serious, glittering eyes.

“So mortal,” he says, his expression hidden in shadow even as moonlight paints his naked body in a silvery glow.

“Get out,” I hiss, my hands shaking from fury and terror. “Get out and never come back!”

For the longest moment, he doesn’t move. Then, when I’m ready to scream, his antlers lower in a shallow bow.

“I’ll come back once he starts killing people. Maybe then you’ll see reason. Because you can stop it, Jaga. Three words from you and this village and all its people will be safe. All you have to do is let me claim you.”

I shake my head mutely, and he bares his white teeth in a grin.

“Or maybe not so mortal, after all. Maybe all you care about is yourself. Time will tell, and unlike you, I have all the time in the world at my command. Goodbye, poppy girl.”

He vanishes in a cloud of shadow, leaving behind a faint scent of sulfur. I let out a sharp breath, then another, and another. I sob without tears, my body wracked with terror and relief. Grasshoppers play their loud song, and finally, the warm night breeze dries the sweat from my forehead and cools my fever.

I gather the dregs of my strength and go back inside the barn, resuming my work. My mind is empty of thought, my body exhausted, my eyes glazed over. I’m so wiped out, I almost miss it.

When I finally notice the bloody clump of something gray snagged on a rusty nail, I blink and stare at it for long moments before I realize it’s not lamb wool. No, it’s fur, and the color makes me think it belongs to a wolf.

And yet, the nail is at the height of my shoulder, and no wolf is that tall. Also, Woland said “he”.

I’ll come back once he starts killing people.

I let out a long, controlled breath and resume scrubbing with double force. After I finish here, I’ll have a world of work to do. Because I know who killed the lambs.

And I know he will be back.