Chapter 50 Belonging
Chapter fifty
Belonging
Jaga
It’s not yet night where we go, but it’s close. As soon as Weles pulls me out of darkness, I stumble away from him. It’s cold, the last days of winter holding the land in an icy grip, even though most of the snow has melted. I wrap myself in warming charms, taking in my surroundings.
My heart stutters with fear and rage when I recognize this place.
It looks different with the grass dull from cold, the trees naked, but the house is just the same, its lights twinkling warmly behind a low hedge.
It’s the same spot Woland brought me to when he took me to Slawa—the house that was to be my prison once I was his.
I turn to him, my fists clenched.
“I will not be a possession you put away out of sight,” I growl, shaking from anger.
He’s powerful, there’s no question about it. Probably more powerful than me. But I won’t go down easily. I’ll fight him every step of the way until he gets bored and lets me go.
Weles huffs with amusement and claps his hands.
Around us stretches a translucent dome of soft, golden light.
The grass grows greener, and a white blanket made of thick wool stretches on the ground.
Candles come to life around the perimeter of the dome, and a basket of food appears, accompanied by two crystal goblets and a bottle of wine. My wine.
“If you think you will fool me again...” I begin, but break off in surprise when he drops to his knees in front of me and presses his face to my belly, embracing me tightly.
“Thank you,” he whispers, his voice full with emotion. “My queen. My goddess. Thank you for this victory.”
I shake my head, uncomprehending. This isn’t like him, not at all. It sounds like another lie, a manipulation, only—he has no reason to lie to me anymore.
He got what he wanted. He doesn’t need me anymore.
“Weles,” I begin uncertainly, not knowing what to say.
“Yes, it’s me,” he sighs into my clothes. “But you gave yourself to Woland. It will be more appropriate like this.”
He pulls away carefully, not getting up, and wraps himself in magic.
He grows taller, so tall, his face almost reaches mine when he’s on his knees.
It used to be level with mine when I wore no heels.
Now, he falls a little short. His antlers spread wide, and his eyes glitter gold and pleased.
When he smiles, I realize he looks so much younger.
Here is a happy Woland, the same one who entranced me that day when I bled under a tree, and he came to comfort me. I stare, mesmerized. It takes effort to remind myself I shouldn’t. It’s over. I was supposed to leave. Go far away from him, and build a happy, pain-free life for myself. It’s time.
I don’t move.
“There is something we have to do, one last thing, and then, we can finally rest,” he says with a sigh, those glittery eyes hypnotizing me.
I don’t dare look away. He doesn’t need me anymore. Yet here we are.
“When I speak, you will feel a flutter against your heart,” he explains softly, holding my waist in a warm grip. “It will be like a knocking. I’d like you to open and admit me entrance.”
I frown, not understanding. He got everything he’s ever needed, so what more does he want from me? I will not allow another bond, though it doesn’t sound like that.
“Weles, but what…”
He presses his finger to my lips. “Ready? Here it is. I belong to Jaga.”
I gasp, staring at him without comprehension. Something brushes my heart, a magic spark, an invitation, a pleading. My heart, so very bruised, so starving and miserable, opens wide to let it in.
A piece of Woland’s soul, or essence, or being, something magically and intimately his, flies in and settles in the deepest depths of me.
I stare at him, awed. My magic burns hot, currents of it forging through my bloodstream, like a storm of darkness, like a healing.
I gasp. My body heals and floods with well-being, just like when I drink his blood, but so much better.
Because this magic is mine now. I no longer need to drink his blood. He’s inside me. I have it. I have him.
Woland’s smile is gone. He watches me carefully, his face utterly bare, all masks and pretenses gone. He’s unsure and vulnerable, waiting for me.
I don’t know what to say, so I cup his cheek and tilt his face to kiss him. Our lips press together, and he lets out a shaky breath that tickles my skin, and then we kiss, slow and careful. A kiss that is a first, because we have no more reasons to be together, here, now.
Our only reason is that we want it.
He sighs into my mouth, feeding my soul, and embraces me tighter. I bury my fingers in his hair, stroking the warm bone of an antler, and he sucks on my tongue with a pleased hum, and pulls back.
“Will you sit with me? I want to celebrate only with you. For days, if we can. Let’s hope they won’t need us.”
I nod, speechless still, and he gets up, guiding me by my hand to the blanket. He sits, naked and shameless, and I hesitate, looking down at myself. These clothes were my armor, a protection. It’s so strange but—I don’t think I need it anymore.
With a sigh, I let the leather and boots fade away.
Some day, I will put them on again, but today, I can be bare.
I sit down on the blanket, naked like him, and look up.
Despite the magic and the piece of him inside me, I am apprehensive.
This is so different from what I expected—from what I deserve, or ever had.
“What happens now?” I ask, my throat so tight, my voice is barely a whisper.
Woland smiles, shrugging. “Anything we want. Isn’t it nice for a change?”
I shake my head, huffing with frustration, and he opens the basket, handing me a white piece of sheep’s cheese in a linen napkin. I stare at it, distracted.
“Anything we want—and you start off with cheese? That’s rather mundane, Woland. Aren’t we gods?”
He laughs under his breath, taking another napkin for himself. “Sure. I want to do all the mundane things with you, Jaga. Everything. Anything. Let’s start with cheese.”
I nibble on it, and it’s excellent, hard and spicy with a hint of herbs. Woland devours his fast and pours the wine. I smell it to confirm—dewberry wine.
“Do you drink any other kind?” I ask, a bit irritated, a bit pleased.
“I might. Now that I have you, it’s not as important to surround myself with reminders of you all the time. I tried to quench this longing, but no wine or lovage soap ever helped. It’s you I craved. I can have other kinds of wine now.”
“You have me,” I say carefully. “And I have you.”
He nods as his smile grows wider, his sharp, white teeth peeking between his lush lips. “Yes. We belong to each other. How does it feel?”
I look away, staring at the golden candles. Outside, it’s still winter, but here is our little bit of summer.
“Not as bad as I expected,” I answer honestly.
Woland throws his head back and laughs, and I stare at his stomach, the muscles tensing and releasing as he heaves in air to laugh some more.
I understand his longing and the wine, because I was starving, too.
For so long, I denied myself his presence, and I did my best not to look at him, whether he was Woland or Weles.
Even though my eyes were ravenous for him, all my senses deprived and yearning.
I can finally look until I have my fill, because he belongs to me.
“Not as bad as you expected,” he repeats after me, grinning with teasing, mocking joy. “Oh, poppy girl. You know how to pay a compliment.”
I shrug, swallowing the last bite of cheese before I fold the napkin and put it away. “It’s the truth. I expected to be a slave. But you… I don’t understand. Are we—enslaved to each other?”
His smile softens, and he shrugs. “I don’t know. There was never a case like ours, because only gods can claim mortals. It was never reciprocated. Let’s test it out. Force me to do something I don’t want. Make me leave.”
I focus, getting in touch with the little piece of him. I grip it hard with my magic and command it. “Go.”
Woland takes a deep, heady breath, and shakes himself off. His cock fills out, but he makes no move to obey.
“I felt it, but it was easy enough to refuse. Now you.” He looks at me with a slow, lustful smile, and speaks. “Suck my cock, poppy girl.”
I feel it in me, a compulsion and a joy, an eager need to please him and obey. I don’t move, leveling Woland with a hard stare. “I thought we were forcing each other to do things we don’t want.”
He hums with pleasure and takes a sip of wine. “My bad, my horny witch. Well? Does that answer your question?”
I nod with a sigh, sitting more comfortably as tension flows out of my limbs, sinking into the earth.
I breathe deeply, like him, and for a while, we just sit together in silence.
Woland is so beautiful in candlelight. His skin gains bronze and golden undertones, and his eyes glitter like amber in the Hall of Fires.
He watches me, too, attentive and warm, so very unhurried.
I sigh and relax, letting my head loll back as I look at the glittering golden dome hiding us from the cold outside.
We have all the time in the world. He can’t force me to do anything. I’m free.
He doesn’t need me anymore—yet he wants me still.
“So what happened?” I ask after a while. “Why did it work—claiming me? Just because of the prophecy?”
He shakes his head with a deep sigh and drains his cup. He lies back and motions me closer, and I lay my head on his chest, allowing him to embrace me, embracing him back. He is so languid and warm, so very easy to be with, now that it’s over.
“I told you how human belief gives power to gods,” he says softly, and I breathe him in, smoke and spices, my beautiful devil.
“It works because mortals have souls, which are magical and filled with power. That power supports whichever god they pray to. The more souls, the more power. Perun has the faith of millions. I had the faith of a handful—and then, you.”