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 kissthat is a first, because we have no more reasons to be together, here, now.
Our only reason is that we want it.
