She slashes at my torso. My muscles flex on instinct, and I release a shaky breath, forbidding my skin to knit back. Jaga creates a crystal goblet, similar to the one I used to gather her blood ages ago, during that fateful Kupala Night. My erection throbs when I realize she’s going to drink my blood. Oh, yes. I’ll be inside her, however she’ll have me.
Slash. Cut. Slash.Jaga’s knife works industriously until my torso is a patchwork of bloody gashes. The pain grows biting, and I grit my teeth. The instinct to let it heal grows stronger and stronger, but if I do, she’ll think me weak.
At a twirl of Jaga’s hand, the blood splashes into her chalice, filling it to the brim. A trickle flows down the side, and she licks it off with an obscene stroke of her tongue. I exhale in a rush, hands flexing in the ropes.
I can make them vanish any moment. I can go to her and have her on the floor.
Jaga looks up with a private smile, as if she knows what I’m thinking.
“Close your eyes,” she murmurs. “And I’ll give it a nice, long stroke. Just one, but you’ll take it, won’t you?”
I slam my eyelids shut, swallowing an eager moan. Her fingers wrap around my length, and I hiss, my world shrinking to my cock and her hand on it. True to her word, she curls her palm around the root, right at the flat circle of thorns, and pulls it slowly up to the tip. Magic is dense in the air, but I pay it no heed. All I can think about is the slow torture of her stroking mejust once.
When her hand slides off me and away, I exhale shakily. Jaga laughs, and it takes me a few seconds to realize she did something. Something…
My eyes fly open. Over Jaga’s outstretched hand hovers a crystal sphere, my blood sloshing inside like a miniscule red sea ravaged by storm. The ropes securing me to the wheel are wet. When I look up, a trickle of blood—my blood—slides down my forearm.
“Try to free yourself,” she whispers. “Go on, Woland. Show me.”
I don’t react at first. I only watch her, uncomprehending, yet alsoknowing.My sweet poppy girl who cowered in front of me, who bled at my sight, who was so strong but always weaker—she’s gone.
In her place stands a predator.
I attack the ropes with my magic, instantly knowing I’m doomed. They are soaked with my blood, the spell holding strong. She’s learned her lesson well, and I, like a fool, handed her the weapon. Just like before.
I remember with a bitter snort how I said she’d never jerk me around by my cock.Look at me now.
“You keep underestimating me,” Jaga whispers, trailing the knife down the deepest gash running down from my sternum. “Can you heal? Try. I’m not sure I did it right.”
I close my eyes with a deep sigh and let my healing magic run free. Nothing happens. My wounds remain open, bleeding steadily down my abdomen and thighs.
“Clever,” I say, forcing a small smile onto my face. “I keep expecting you to be that innocent girl, still. But you aren’t.”
“You stripped me of my innocence.”
She prowls, twisting her bloody knife in her fingers. When she disappears from view, I brace for a slash at my back, but nothing happens. She reemerges on the other side, scowling at me.
“I did you a favor,” I say. “Innocent lambs are the first to slaughter. Look at you now. There was never a more powerful mortal.”
“No, there wasn’t.” She stands in front of me, her bloodied hand supporting her chin as she thinks. “Nor an unhappier one. I am but a collection of pieces, Woland. I am broken. But then, it’s no surprise. I am your creation, am I not? And all you do is destroy.”
With furious movements, she sticks the knife in the side of my neck. I choke on the blood gurgling in my windpipe, and she does it again and again, butchering my throat. I give up trying to breathe as my lifeblood leaves my body in thick, gushing spurts. Jaga breathes hard, pulling away once she delivers the last strike with a suppressed growl.
She points her hand at the sphere of my blood. A wave of healing power rushes through my body to the worst wounds. I gasp in a loud, roaring breath, and Jaga clenches her fist. My throat is mended just enough to let me breathe. Blood trickles down my shoulder.
“Not as fun when I’m the one doing it, I bet.” She snarls, summonsing my spilled blood into the sphere, feeding more power to the spells holding me captive. “Regret it now, devil boy?”
I shake my head feebly. My voice is hoarse, something broken in my vocal chords, but at least, I can speak.
“It’s odd, love. I regret everything, and yet, if I could go back, I wouldn’t change a thing. You’re formidable. I’m proud of you.”
“Don’t you dare!”
She waves her hand at me, and my mouth sews shut, just like Nienad’s did. But this spell is not anchored in my blood, so I work the threads loose with magic, letting them remain in my skin so she doesn’t suspect anything even as I give myself an out.
This is a dangerous game. I’ve been this vulnerable only once—when Perun chained me down. Thoughhedidn’t need to use my blood to control me. His magic was enough, and it humiliated me like nothing else.
“Now,” Jaga murmurs, calmed by my inability to speak. “I want you conscious but in pain. Perfect combination, don’t you agree?”
