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 wedon’twant.”
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.
