“You love me, son, and that’s enough. Will you go to the King of Bees once Perun’s tantrum is over? Tell him Perun keeps attacking us, as well, and we’d like to join forces to fight him. Make sure to comment on all the destruction you see in the forest, and how bleak and pitiful it looks. That should convince him well enough. The King is incredibly vain about his wood.”
Chors tilts his head to the side. “You mean woods?”
“I said what I said.”
And now, there’s nothing else to do but wait. Jaga has ensconced herself with Rada, only coming out to check on her victims every two hours. I feel tempted to send my shadows to spy on their conversation, but refrain in the end. She’s entitled tosomeprivacy, especially now that the bond connecting us will let me know as soon as something serious happens to her.
Then I remember it works both ways, and a devilish idea pops in my head. I go over to my throne and claim it for myself for once, conjuring an enormous wall of obsidian in front of me. I pull my cock out of my pants, already hardening at the thought of how furious Jaga will be when I do this.
I made myself come before, but it was a quick, purely physical affair. This time, I allow all my suppressed yearning, love, and need to explode with full force to make it resonate across our bond. To help myself I conjure a memory onto the black wall before me. Here she is, Jaga by the river, taking my name while I drink blood right from her mouth.
I sigh and slouch back, watching us, her and Woland, as I stroke myself. She is so small under him, so pale and pink and freckled, out of her mind with lust. She seems years younger, too, even though it was barely over a year ago. Such an innocent Jaga, already a queen jerking me around by my balls.
Then comes the moment when he hears the cry for help from Nawie. He grows rigid in the scene, and Jaga looks up with confusion, dazed and wanton. In reality, I went away and left her alone in the dewy grass.
But today I choose a fantasy instead of the truth. The scene continues, Woland shaking off the call and coming back to his witch, so very selfish. She parts her freckled thighs wider, and he pushes in, so very slowly, instantly knowing something’s wrong.
How I wish I had done it differently when I took her the first time. Now, in this fantasy, I get to do just that. Woland stops, checks with her, and pulls out, working her looser with his fingers and magical lubrication. She’s hot and feverish, writhing in his grip, and I stroke myself faster, remembering how she feels inside. Like a cunt, of course, one of a million yet special,because it’sJaga’scunt, and for a fucked-up reason, it makes all the difference in the world.
Current Jaga’s voice booms in my head.“What the fuck are you… What is this?”
She sounds angry, then bashful, coming through our bond like a vengeful wife ready to catch her husband cheating only to be shocked by his faithfulness.
“I was bored, so I decided to pleasure myself, and since I can’t get it up without you, here we are.”
She is silent, but I sense her in my mind, looking out through my eyes. Woland pulls his fingers out and strokes his cock, spreading her wetness and his down his shaft. The golden orbs shine bright, making it glisten, and he bends down low to give her a slow, tender kiss.
“This is how I should have done it the first time.”
Woland pushes her knees up to her chest and enters her slowly. Pleasure fights pain on her face while he looks down at her with infinite tenderness and lust. His thrusts are gentle and restrained, and he pulls out after a few to kiss her lips and whisper in her ear.
“Have you considered that we could have another first time? You’ve fucked Woland dozens of times, but Weles—never.”
“Fuck you. Don’t speak to me. I’m going.”
And yet, she stays on in my mind, watching avidly. Woland enters her again, and she stretches in bliss, long arms thrown above her head where her gorgeous wet hair lies strewn in the grass. I stroke myself faster, and there is no sound coming from the scene, but her lips move, and I know she’s chanting my name.
“Yes, beautiful poppy girl,” I hiss through clenched teeth, sounding like Woland. “Take it all. Be mine. Be only mine. And then make me yours.”
Woland’s hips snap faster and faster, and Jaga cranes her neck back, screaming her release. He stills with a beastly expression on his face, his body trembling as he spends himself, and I know he locked her in, his thorns throbbing deep inside her body.
I gasp, painting the floor with my release, and close my eyes, shaking. I let too much come to the surface, all that yearning, that pitiful anguish. Yet, I still feel Jaga with me, and it gives me hope that’s even more of a torment than the hopelessness before.
“You asked me once why I always used the thorns. Truth is, poppy girl, I just couldn’t help myself with you. I am hardly in control when you are around, and it was like that from the start. Instincts ride me, base and beastly, and I blunder and fail and fuck up. I would have won you over a hundred times if I didn’t want you so much. Isn’t it ironic?”
She says nothing but stays, watching quietly through my eyes as I tuck myself back in my clothes and dismiss the obsidian wall with the image of us cuddling in postcoital bliss. She stays when I pour myself a large glass of her wine, and then later, when I stare at the fire, waiting and wanting.
“Come join me. I miss you.”
But she never comes.
Chapter twenty-five
Buzz
“Welcome to Nawie.”
I stand at the foot of the Mogila Mountain, welcoming the buzzing King of Bees into my domain. He is large, two heads taller than me, his robust frame crawling with insects. A pair of violet eyes flashes in the hive and is gone before I discern their expression.
