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Slate’s wet fingers dragged dark blue lines down her stomach, down and down, until they touched the thick hair between her legs.

Ruby held her breath, her eyes slamming shut once more. She was embarrassingly wet; she could feel it on her thighs. Even with all that slick, she had no idea how he would fit inside her. A finger, she could take. Probably. His fingers were so much thicker than hers. But any more? She had no clue.

Slate’s fingers vanished.

Ruby opened her eyes just in time to see Slate brush his wet thumb over her lower lip.

“It is finished,” he said. His thumb lingered, the barest hint of a claw sliding out to press into the sensitive skin. Slate swayed forward, and Ruby heard herself gasp. Was he going to kiss her or take a bite out of her cheek?

Then Slate straightened, his tail lashing furiously behind him.

“Finished,” he repeated, looking away. “Come along.”

He held out a hand. His claws were fully out again, and Ruby pictured them pressing into her naked hips.

He led her into a forest clearing. It was still evening, the shadowy trees glinting in the low light.

A familiar slab of stone sat in the middle of the long grass.

“The ward,” Ruby realized. She dropped his hand and stepped closer, fighting the urge to close her arms over her naked body. It looked the same as it did in the middle of town: the stone was strained and brittle, and the ram horn symbol faded to the point of unrecognition.

She ran her fingers over the ruined symbol. It pulsed under her touch, and she gasped as it flowed through her.

This was going to work. Ithadto work. She had never felt so powerful, soconnected?—

Slate’s shadow fell over her. “Are you ready, little witch?”

“Yes,” Ruby whispered. “What should I do?”

She turned and stammered to a stop.

His loincloth was gone. The Bygone stood before her, bare and glorious. His horns jutted proudly from the top of his skull mask, his fangs visible between his parted lips. His tail swept back and forth in the dead leaves.

She suddenly wished she could see the rest of his face. She could tell nothing from the lower half after the skull mask ended: his mouth was straight and impassive, betraying nothing but boredom.

As if on a fishhook, Ruby’s gaze fell to his cock.

It washuge. So huge that Ruby shuddered in equal parts excitement and terror. But eventhatwasn’t the worrying part.

She pointed at the thick ridge circling the base of his cock. “What isthat?”

“My knot,” he replied. “You will have to take it to complete the ritual.”

Ruby’s heart thumped. Knot or otherwise, she couldn’t squeeze that inside her.

She suddenly wished shehadgiven in to those stupid boys cajoling her into “a good time” back home. Maybe if she had more experience, she could take more than her own fingers, and she wouldn’t be staring at his cock with something that bordered on despair.

Slate tilted his head. “You look shocked. Do mortals not have knots?”

“They don’t,” Ruby squeaked. “But that’s… that's fine. Everything’s good.”

He grunted and motioned toward the ward. “Bend over the stone.”

The words sent a thrill through her, even as nervous sweat dripped down her neck. She suddenly wished he had grabbed her and thrown her down onto it.

She turned back and bent over the flat stone. It pressed against her breasts, smearing the blue liquid he had traced over her body.

Slate stepped up behind her. His huge hand stroked down her spine, gathering sweat.