Chapter 45
Chapter forty-five
Habit
“Fine,” she murmurs, stretching lazily in the grass. “Be Woland. Let him be in charge.”
I change instantly, humming as I tighten the muscles in my neck to carry my antlers, shortening my claws so as not to hurt her. I am still hard, and she looks at me with a small smile, so beautiful in this world I made for her.
I trail my trimmed claws down her torso between her breasts, cupping her belly and stroking it. The need to heal her is overwhelming, and I could do it, but then she’d know and blast me off her.
Though maybe not. She used to be more powerful than me, but I have grown in strength recently, and I can’t tell whether we are equals now or she surpasses me still.
She would look so good swollen with my child. Weles yearns and longs for it, his need subdued. I buzz with a violent craving, my fingers twitching against her soft skin. I need all of this to be mine.
For myself, too, but even more, for the world.
And yet, and yet. It’s never worked before. Haven’t I learned anything?
“What are you waiting for?” she asks with a soft sigh, opening her legs.
“I want to look at you,” I say, my voice as soft as I can make it. “Will you let me braid your hair after we fuck? I miss it very much.”
She takes a deep breath, her face falling. She looks sad as she stares up, watching a flock of wild geese flying over the golden sky like an arrow.
“I always thought my hair was so vile. Then you saw it loose one day and couldn’t help but touch it. It wasn’t all bad, Woland. Not by far. That’s what hurts the most.”
I stroke her thigh with my tail, wanting to push her so bad, it’s a physical effort to keep my tongue behind my teeth. She’s vulnerable and open, and maybe I could bind her to me with a promise or a vow so she doesn’t leave me, but I can’t afford to be selfish anymore.
She almost gave herself to me back in the rebel base, after I announced our betrothal. But I was a fool, and I didn’t push for the right answer, chasing meaningless words of love instead.
She said she loved me, and I needed that more. I should have been smarter. So now, I forbid myself from being selfish again. So much rides on this. I am convinced I will die if she’s not mine, because Nyja’s prophecies always come true, and she said it clearly.
The winner will slaughter the loser, and I can’t win if I don’t claim Jaga.
Time’s up. I don’t have a choice anymore.
“Your hair is beautiful, as is all of you,” I murmur, leaning in for a kiss.
My antlers press into the grass around her head, trapping her for me, and I kiss her softly, so very sweet. It will have to be a lie, maybe. One that she’ll think is true, one that will convince her. I don’t know what to do yet. She has always thwarted me before, the glorious beast.
She kisses me back with a sigh, her arms twining around me so tightly, even though she’s tired and weak. I cut my tongue and give her my blood, letting it flow freely. I’ll get her drunk on it until she sees the universe unfold like a flower. That should distract her well enough.
She will be hurt. She will hate you. She’ll never love you again.
I silence my conscience, this fresh, uncomfortable thing that I grew in response to Jaga’s pain that I caused. Yes, she will hate me, and we will both suffer. I’ll never have the sweet future with her I always dreamed of.
But does it really matter, since she’ll leave me anyway?
No, it doesn’t. I have to make sure we’ll survive, not just me and her, but our allies, too. Jaga is too obstinate to do what’s right.
She’ll cry and hide her tears from you. She’ll be broken for good.
I send an engorging spell at my fading erection so she doesn’t notice. Fuck, there is nothing less arousing than contemplating hurting the only woman I’ve ever loved, but I’m used to dealing with this by now.
It’s become a habit.
Jaga pulls blood from my mouth, kissing me with growing enthusiasm. I try to forget what I must do and enjoy it, but the weight of my responsibility sits in my chest, impossible to chase away.
I don’t think I’ve ever truly enjoyed her as Woland, and it makes me ache. It was always marred by my scheming.
Well, at least Weles got to fuck her with only pleasure.
I deepen the kiss, growling as I do my best to focus on the scent and feel of her, her warmth, her lovely skin under my fingers.
She presses one knee to my side, and I pull it closer yet with my shadows, feasting on her.
More blood pours down her throat, more magic, until she keens in my mouth, galaxies exploding in her mind.
“I see the Great Oak! So many souls in the branches, Woland, oh! You can’t burn it. Where will they go? And those roots, they go deep into the heart of the world. This tree will never fall.”
“Drink, love.”
She does, arching her back, as I give her more than I’ve ever done before.
Soon, she is delirious, laughing and shaking as she tells me about the stars caressing each other with light across the night sky, about the secrets hidden deep under the ground.
I think she sees Swietowit buried in his grave, because she talks about a sleeping god whose eyes grow out of the ground, thousands of them mounted on green stalks like daisies.
Who knows, maybe it’s all true.
I press my hand to her belly, kissing her harder as I flood her mouth with blood. She should have her bleeding soon and is not fertile, but I know the intricacies of female bodies, and I can work with that.
So this is it, then.
Her scars dissolve gently, slowly. I get her stupidly drunk on more and more blood, and she doesn’t notice.
Carefully, I find her ovaries, all those perfect eggs nestled within, ready to be children.
Her body is reluctant at first, but I coax and cajole it, flooding her bloodstream with all the right substances until she’s ripe and ready, a tiny egg on its way.
The part of me that loves her screams for me to stop. The part that loves Slawa and myself strangles the screaming. I’m doing this for her, too, I remind myself. If we lose, she’ll suffer for an eternity. And if they manage to kill her somehow, she’ll be gone forever, no afterlife for her.
This is the only way.
I leave the scar on her belly untouched so she doesn’t suspect anything. But all the inner ones are gone, her womb well and healthy for the first time in her adult life. I speak to it in slow spells, caressing it with magic, and its lining softens into a perfect nest for my baby.
It’s time.
“I love you so much,” I growl in a voice on the edge of breaking, because it’s true, completely and utterly. “I never want you to hurt again. Please, my love. Please. Be mine.”
She laughs a drunken laugh, like she knows it’s a joke, because we’ve played this game too many times. This, too, is a habit. Me begging, her saying no.
It doesn’t matter. She’s incoherent at this point, too drunk to speak without slurring.
I settle between her thighs and slide up her body, pushing inside with equal bliss and pain.
I briefly think how I’ll keep her from terminating it when she finds out, and my cock softens when I realize I’ll have to keep her sedated until she gives birth. It’s the only way.
I make myself hard again with a frustrated spell. I can’t fail now, even though I hate having sex like this. It’s the last time she’ll ever fuck me, and it’s miserable.
But I can’t be selfish anymore. There’s no more time.
“Please,” Jaga slurs, wrapping her arms around me. “Oh, I missed you. You are so good. I love you so much.”
I still, buried deep inside her, and the screaming in my heart and head grows louder, obliterating all else. She loves me, after all. She just has to be drunk out of her mind to say it.
This changes nothing.
“I love you, too, my sweet, beautiful witch,” I murmur, and my voice trembles, but she doesn’t notice. “I’ll always love you. But you were right all along. You’ll have to leave me after. I’ll never stop hurting you, and we both know that. You deserve better.”
And I’ll let her go, I realize. She will be mine once for all, my claim forced on her with this child she’ll probably hate, and I will still let her leave me. Because she wants to be free above all else, and I will let her—as soon as I force her to do this one thing.
She sighs and shakes her head with a smile.
Her eyes are closed, that glorious hair strewn in the grass around her, and I speed up, gritting my teeth.
I’ll have to come through pure manual stimulation, because there is no thought or sight that will push me over the edge right now. I’m drowning in guilt.
“Oh, Woland. No. I don’t want to leave you. I won’t. It’s stupid to pretend that I can. I need you, and there’s no one else like you, no one. You are perfect. So evil. So good.”
She giggles, her muscles clenching around me in pleasure. I almost pull out and give her all her scars back. Almost. But this would be selfish, and I can’t put my flimsy happiness above the fate of Slawa and my family. Perun means to destroy us, and he will sooner or later.
Hiding is no longer an option.
“So evil,” I whisper almost without a sound. “Yes, my love.”
My hips snap faster, and I push all thoughts out of my mind until it’s only us, my body and hers, seeking pleasure together.
I push my shadows into her, violent in my need to be done, and wring orgasms out of her that make her tighten.
The pressure grows, and I growl, throwing my head, and close my eyes.
I can’t do it if I know it’s her, so I imagine another woman, someone I don’t care about, a faceless body to use and discard. She writhes and moans, sounding like Jaga, and I plug my ears with my shadows.