Chapter 22 Honey
Chapter twenty-two
Honey
I flap my wings once, shooting up and toward the mountain’s peak. Her laughter chases me, tinkling and pretty, and I remember with a shiver how Jaga pretended to be her—with her hands on me, her eyes piercing, a cackle in her throat.
“I can’t fight her or it won’t work,” I explain myself to my girl, hating the fact that I have to.
Ah, what is this feeling, squirming in my gut so unpleasantly, sticky like tar and slugs? Jaga is silent, and I fume, flying fast to my destination and hoping Mokosz follows instead of calling for Perun.
If he comes, it will be over. I finally remember why I stopped publicly making mischief. It’s because my pride cannot handle running from him when I remember the times he cowered in front of me.
How low I have fallen.
“I will find a way to play her just right. Without touching her. Maybe. She’s very touchy-feely.”
Still, Jaga is quiet. I fly over the luxuriously high wall of Perun’s grove and land right in the middle, by the biggest oak. Shudders of revulsion squirm through me, growing more potent when I smell the trees.
I fucking hate oaks.
“Please, say something. Anything. Tell me you hate me.”
Jaga shifts in my mind, something like reluctance, anger, maybe humiliation coming through our bond before she finally speaks.
“Do what you have to. I don’t care.”
I almost huff with frustration before I remember how she looked after she saw me kiss Mokosz. I sent my shadows to follow her and witnessed it all, her hurt and fury, bitter jealousy, and pain. She flung off the ring with barely a grimace, even though it razed through her finger.
She cares. And now I know what it is, squirming in my gut like slugs.
Guilt.
I could have played Mokosz a thousand different ways that day, but I chose a kiss, because I hated Jaga for making me lose. I wanted her to hurt.
I’ve learned my lesson, too, when she went and fucked my son for that kiss. She’ll always hurt me more in the end.
So this time, I make a promise—to her and myself.
“I won’t kiss her, I won’t seduce her, I won’t even touch her. You have my word.”
“Whatever.”
“What are you doing, big boy?” Mokosz asks, coming out from behind a tree, her hand sensuously trailing its bark. “Have you lost all your senses? Ah, if Perun were here, he’d turn you into a pile of dung to fertilize his grove.”
She grins and skips over, light and careless like a girl. I put up an invisible barrier between us, a spell so subtle, it’s from another time. Mokosz hesitates, frowning, and takes a step back.
The spell makes her reluctant to be near me.
It’s magic at its most basic, far less flamboyant than what most gods prefer, this art almost forgotten in Slawa.
It’s the kind of spell a mortal whisperer might cast with a rhymed murmur, or even by simply wanting more space.
It’s magic that’s barely magic, but—will and intent.
Hopefully, Mokosz won’t realize what I’ve done.
“He likes to dish out punishments, yes,” I drawl, cocking my head. “Tell me, my lovely goddess. How did he punish you when he found out the girl you buried was gone from her grave?”
She gives me a sullen look, huffing with displeasure. “And how do you know she’s gone?”
“I have my sources. I know Weles has her. It seems we share an enemy, my most stunning queen.”
In my mind, Jaga scoffs.
“I’m manipulating her,” I explain while Mokosz studies me with suspicion. “Don’t you know? You catch more flies with honey than vinegar.”
“Since when are you so wise?”
I bite back a smile, knowing what she means. Oh, I should have poured all my honey and charm on Jaga when we first met until she drowned in it. She wouldn’t have been able to resist me.
“I guess it’s easier to make smart decisions when I don’t care for the woman I try to charm. Don’t distract me now.”
“You’ve never openly acted against Weles,” Mokosz says, shaking her head. “You avoid those bigger than you. Why now? Do you really care about the girl so much?”
She seems bitter and unhappy, and I realize Mokosz is truly jealous of Jaga. I laugh deep from my gut, shaking my head in indulgent mirth.
“Care? Please, don’t you know me? She was just a distraction. No, what I care about is Weles taking what’s not his. He could have taken any of my toys, and I would have been just as offended.”
Jaga is silent. I hope she knows this is all deception.
Mokosz nods at last, looking partly convinced. “But why are you trying to piss off Perun?”
“Because you’re right, of course,” I say, spreading my arms wide in a gesture of complete honesty. “Weles is too big for me, and I can’t fight him myself. Perun can, only he doesn’t seem too eager. I heard Weles is hunting for allies. I’d like Perun to get them first.”
She clicks her tongue, shaking her head with pity. I see boredom glazing her eyes—the conversation hasn’t revolved around her for the past few minutes, and I’m losing her.
“You haven’t told me what he did after the bies fled from her grave. Whatever it was, it must have been horribly unfair. It wasn’t your fault.”
She sneers, her beautiful face twisting in a look of loathing so deep, my spine tingles with pleasure. It seems Perun punished her harshly.
She moves so fast, I don’t have time to consider stopping her. Mokosz grabs the front of her dress, yellow like honey, and tears it in half. I press my hand to my mouth to hide my expression, and choke on suppressed glee.
Perun has mutilated his wife horribly. Her breasts are perfectly even globes with no sign of nipples, and she is smooth between her legs, no hair, no cleft, no cunt, no clit. Nothing. Her body is completely deprived of the organs most commonly used for fucking.
“Gods,” Jaga whispers in my mind, aghast.
“Fuck’s sake, I can’t help it, I’ll laugh in her face. Please, tell me something desperately unfunny and help me control myself.”
“Me and Foss are fucking right now. I have the tip of his tail in my mouth. Delicious.”
The laughter dies in my throat. I blink at Mokosz, unseeing, because I’m racing down the mental link between Jaga and me, and now I’m there, looking out through her eyes, and she…
She’s drinking wine. On my throne. Fully dressed. With no Foss in sight.
“Oh, you fucking, little…”
“Unfunny enough for you? Deal with Mokosz.”
Oh. I see.
I go back, reeling from the spike of hate and fury that’s still riding my blood. I want to rip something apart, preferably a silver-scaled dragon. Jaga is such a vicious cunt.
She’s perfect.
Mokosz fixes her dress and glowers at me, her arms folded on her chest. My lack of reaction angers her, but I don’t fucking know how to react to that. It’s a small blessing that my urge to laugh has thoroughly passed.
“How do you piss?” I ask, incredulous. “No. Forgive me. That just… Fuck.”
“I don’t,” she spits with hate. “I stopped drinking and eating. I’m miserable.”
“Of course you are,” I murmur. This would be the perfect moment to embrace and comfort her, but fuck, I gave my word. “Oh, sweetheart. I won’t touch you. Forgive me. I wouldn’t like to rouse your appetites when you can’t get relief.”
Her shoulders drop, and her expression softens a little. “Thank you. This must have really shocked you, to make you so pleasant. And you’re right. It’s beyond frustrating, and I’d rather not touch anyone. I hate him so much.”
I nod with emphasis, my voice dropping into an approximation of a soothing coo. It would be easier as Weles, but what can I do? Woland’s rasp will suffice.
“You must have tried to break this curse. What have you tried? Maybe I could help.”
She scoffs, throwing her head with frustration. “Nothing will help. You know how powerful he is. I don’t think he’ll reverse the curse even if I deliver you to him, which I should do now.”
I twist my lips in sympathy. “But will he be grateful if you do that? Be straight with me. Will Perun thank you after you fight so hard to please him?”
“He won’t!”
She stomps her bare foot, and flowers explode where it touches the grass, red clover and Carthusian pink. Jaga shudders so powerfully, I sense it through our bond. She viscerally hates this magic.
I keep talking to pull Mokosz where I want her.
“No, he won’t. He’s so ungrateful and so demanding, isn’t he? I must say, I’ve always hated to see how he pushes you around. Keeping you locked up in Wyraj whenever he wants… This isn’t right. You are a powerful goddess. You deserve to get your due.”
“I do! You are so right!” she bursts out, waving her arms with emphasis.
Butterflies appear out of thin air, frolicking between her fingers.
“I always try so hard, and he never has a good word for me. I don’t remember the last time he thanked me. Must have been… Before Rod. Oh, Woland, why can’t Weles be more powerful? I’d gladly be his. He had manners, at least, when I was with him. He was chivalrous.”
A bitter taste fills my mouth, and I throw my head. “I thought you hated Weles. Weren’t you going to chain him up? How is that going, by the way?”
She spits on the ground, and a clump of wheat grows from the spot, ripening fast until the stalks sway, golden and ready for harvest. She kicks them with annoyance.
“So you don’t know everything. I should tell you, if only to get back at my dear husband.”
I grin. “I take it your plan has failed. You don’t have to tell me. Say, Mokosz, why are you here? Did Perun send you?”
She shakes her head. “I heard a commotion and was curious. He couldn’t care less what happens in Slawa these days, as long as Weles sits tight in Nawie. We’re supposed to only get him when he comes out—as if that will ever happen! Oh, and if the redhead is at large, too.”
She looks away, chewing on her tongue with a mutinous expression. I imagine it rankles her very much that Perun cares about Jaga.
“Do you want him to hurt, Mokosz?” I ask gently, spinning temptation like soft spiderwebs. “I can make it so it will. Only, you can’t be here, or he’ll know you failed to stop me. Go far away, and I promise, Perun will rage and quiver after I’m done with him.”
She eyes me dubiously. “What can you do? Frying the dragons was fun, but he won’t cry over them. You’re not powerful enough to really hurt him.”
I shrug, giving her a slow, private smile. “Then it doesn’t hurt to let me try, does it? Either I won’t do much, and Perun won’t care, or I’ll succeed, and he will suffer. You have nothing to lose either way. Poor Mokosz. How long has it been? You really need a fuck, don’t you?”
She purses her lips, looking sullenly away.
Her hand trails up her breast, and I remember the look of the smooth globes devoid of nipples, now hidden under her dress.
I hold back a cringe. Fuck, she looks so freaky now.
I don’t know why it’s this shocking. I’ve seen far worse depravities, yet the quiet menace of Perun’s punishment for his wife shakes me deeply.
I would feel sorry for her if she hadn’t hurt Jaga. As it is, Mokosz can go fuck herself.
Only, she can’t.
“I just thought she can go fuck herself. Get it? Jaga, I’ll laugh again, but don’t help me this time. You can’t do things in moderation, always jumping to extremes.”
A soft echo of Jaga’s laughter permeates my thoughts, and now, I have an urge to smile, joy bursting in my chest. Oh, it was a great idea to come here.
“Having you in my head is the best thing that’s happened to me in months.”
She doesn’t answer. Mokosz sighs, looking up at the branches of the tallest oak swaying above us in the gentle summer breeze.
“Fine. I’m going. I’ll send pollen into the city to make the bieses forget I was here, not that Perun would ever deign to question the rabble. Make him pay, and don’t tell anyone I was here. Can I count on you?”
I give her a small bow. “Of course, my lovely goddess. I can keep a secret.”
She nods curtly and disappears. Hundreds of butterflies explode out of the air where she stood a moment ago. I watch them, white and yellow wings beating the air.
“You did it,” Jaga says, sounding neutral. “What now?”
I bare all my teeth in the meanest grin I can muster and leap into the air, forming my shadows into bat wings again. I beat them, rising above the oaks, and feel into myself. I am still comfortably full. Should be enough, but—it wouldn’t hurt to have more.
Also, this is an excellent excuse.
“Would you mind sending me a bit of your magic, beloved? I’m about to perform a great feat here, and I’m not certain I have enough.”
“How?”
“Through our bond. Let me show you.”
I close my eyes and focus, finding the current of magic wrapped around my heart like a second bloodstream.
I push a small charge toward her, and the bond is reluctant at first, rejecting me.
It’s natural since it’s so fresh. I push a bit harder.
Jaga gasps, and I know it pours through now, a faint, thin trickle.
We’ll have to make it bigger, stretch this bond to take more. But for now, it’s enough.
“Did you get it? Intent is enough. Find your magic and push it toward me. I’ll be grateful.”
I don’t tell her the repercussions of this, and I don’t have to. Her magic forces me not to lie, but it doesn’t account for lies through omission. Truly, Jaga should have asked me why I’ve never shared a mental bond with anyone before her.
I had a very good reason.
It takes her a moment. She fumbles, and I can tell she’s frowning in concentration as she tries. Jaga always strives to do everything best, even when it’s her first time. Other people are reasonable and allow themselves to fail. Not her.
When it finally comes through, tingles of ecstasy run up my spine, my being lighting up all over.
“Oh, perfect,” I breathe, my voice coming through like a moan, because I can’t control myself.
This is sweet torture, Jaga’s power trickling in drop by drop, like slow licks and edging touches. It pours right into my brain where pleasure and yearning live. I close my eyes and hover in the air, letting myself get drunk on this feeling. She, coming inside me.
“This is tiring. It fights me,” Jaga complains five minutes later.
Hasn’t she noticed? The magic’s pouring so much faster now, the bond wider between us. She’s really given it her all. Like always.
“It’s enough. Thank you, beloved.”
“I asked you to stop calling me that.”
“You asked me to stop calling you ‘love’, beloved. They are two different words.”
“No endearments. Just stop.”
I sigh. It’s like a dance, one step forward, three steps back. The tune we dance to is repetitive and frustrating, always the same mistakes like false notes over the underlying drumbeat of the forces pulling us together.
I close my eyes and push my shadows into the ground, murmuring ancient spells under my breath.
“As you wish, you fucking nuisance. Now watch.”