She folds her arms, and I caress her throat, rubbing my blood into her skin. Another meaningless claim, a mark that will not stop her from leaving.
“And once we’re done, whatever the outcome is, I’ll be free to go and you won’t stop me.” She challenges me with that hard, haughty look.
I nod convulsively, hating this confirmation of how badly she wants to be free of me.
“Promise me.”
“I promise.”
She braces her shoulders, watching me with piercing intensity, and finally nods. I let out a shaky stream of air, my knees growing weak, and she raises a finger.
“On one condition. I want to see what it’s like—fucking like a man.”
I go instantly hard, blood rushing south so fast, dark edges blacken my vision. I wobble, and Jaga grins, not cold anymore, but predatory and strong, my vixen.
“Is that a yes?”
I nod sharply. “But I’ll be Weles. I’ve never done this as Woland, and I’m not keen to try when I’m not sure I’ll enjoy it—since we don’t have much time.”
She shrugs. “It’s you either way. Fine. Let’s go.”
I can’t help a half-bitter, half-pleased laugh. “So eager, poppy girl?”
“I am very eager to fuck you like you did me all those times,” she says, cutting me with her scathing gaze. “It hurt, you know. Every time, it started with pain.”
Shivers tingle down my spine, pooling at the base, and my tail twitches eagerly. “Don’t you know?” I whisper. “I like when it hurts. You do, too.”
“I didn’t know any better back then. But someone showed me another way.”
I freeze, realizing what she means. I was her first and only lover—until my son. He must have been so unsure and excited, gentle, and sweet. So unlike me. My fingers spasm against her throat that I still hold like a lifeline, and she sighs, her face softening.
“You said you wanted pain, so I gave you some.”
“Please, don’t say things like that. I’ve only just come to terms with it.”
She presses her lips together, then nods. “I won’t. Where would you like to…”
But I already have her wrapped tightly in my black magic as I move us to that poppy meadow that I made just for her. It glitters with beautiful colors, saturated and bright, the setting sun reflecting in the river and the droplets of dew decorating the poppies like diamonds. Jaga sighs softly, swaying on her feet as she takes it in with wide, enchanted eyes.
“I made it recently,” I explain, my beastly voice hushed so as not to mar her experience of this beauty. “It’s far more stunningthan the things I’ve made in recent centuries. It’s yours if you want it. After all, you are the only poppy girl I know.”
She says nothing, and I let my shadows embrace me, becoming Weles. A thin, black robe hangs off my shoulders, but I don’t bother to cover myself. Jaga turns in a circle, sighing with awe, and the poppies sway in the lightest breeze that carries their smell mixed with that of lovage and dewberries through the warm air.
“It took me weeks to make this, and all the time, I thought of you.”
She stops, facing me, and shakes her head. “Don’t. This is about fucking. Nothing more.”
“I want to spend my last days alive loving you how you deserve,” I say, and it shocks me when my tongue doesn’t stumble over the words.
I expected her curse to muzzle me halfway but it did not. I spoke the truth.
Jaga scoffs and turns away, taking the pins out of her hair to let it loose. Her clothes vanish, and she stands in front of me naked, only dressed in her red hair that matches the landscape so well. In the light of the setting sun, she is gold and fire, a goddess indeed.
I go to her and wrap that burning hair around my fist, murmuring from awe. “This is so beautiful. I should be used to it by now, but you keep shocking me. And in this light… Oh, Jaga. You have such gorgeous eyes. You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.”
She huffs, a bit sheepish, slightly annoyed, and fingers her pendant. “When you say such outrageous things, I suspect my spell isn’t working.”
“It’s working just fine. I love you and I loathe you. You’re a menace. A beautiful, delightful menace. Better now?”
