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He waited for the Skullstalker to stop, for his eyes to gleam threateningly. For the Skullstalker’s lips to peel back from his fangs and a snarl to rip through the cave.

But the Skullstalker only waved a dismissive hand, barely visible in the gloom. “The oil is not heavy. I can deliver it to you.”

“Oil?” Wick whispered beside him.

Slate didn’t answer. Wick’s magic was so weak it might as well not exist, and he did not study theory. It made sense he would not know much about anointing oil.

The Skullstalker shuffled back into view carrying a pot of black oil. He dipped a finger in, grunting with effort as his claws retracted. It took several seconds longer than expected for the claw to slide back into his hand.

He pressed his dripping finger against Slate’s skull. Slate tried to pay attention to the patterns, but they were strange and nothing he recognized.

“What will this do?” Slate demanded.

The Skullstalker hummed, smoothing a line over his collarbones. “When you push into her, her body will shift to make room for you.”

Lust curled in Slate’s stomach as he imagined sinking into Ruby’s hole all the way to the hilt. Feeling her body clench, his cock nudging the end of her wall, then feeling itstretch?—

He forced the lust down and met the Skullstalker’s cloudy eyes. “Will it harm her?”

“No. But the spell will consume a portion of your essence.”

“Slate,” Wick whispered.

“Essence,” Slate repeated, sending Wick a look to quiet him. “What do you mean by this?”

“Your magic will weaken. And you will age faster.”

His heart raced. “How fast?”

“You would only have a few millennia left.”

A few millennia.Slate fought down a shocking wave of disappointment. Part of him had hoped—just for a moment—that it would narrow his lifespan to a truly pitiful amount of time.

Like a human lifespan.

“That seems a steep cost,” Wick said. “Slate. Are you sure this mortal is worth it?”

Slate didn’t look at him. He was thinking back to Ruby asleep in that castle bed. How she had asked for his nest before she fell asleep.

“She has bound me,” he said. “I must complete the warding ritual, as is her wish.”

The Skullstalker hummed, interested. “A binding? What will you have of her when the ward is complete?”

Slate frowned. “Does it matter?”

The Skullstalker smiled, exposing several missing fangs. “I talk to so few people. Let alone, my brothers. Indulge me with stories beyond this forest.”

Slate shifted uncomfortably. He didn’t want to talk about this, least of all with two brothers listening. But the Skullstalker was granting him a great boon so he could, at least, provide him an answer.

“I want her to stay,” he admitted, his voice raw. “I want tomakeher stay.”

The Skullstalker rumbled as he ran a black line down Slate’s chest. “And will you?”

“I… don’t know.” Slate averted his gaze to the huge, formless darkness of the cave. “She cares for her town. For her realm. Even though they have given her no reason to.”

His fists clenched with rage as he thought back to the vapid townsfolk he had overheard talking of Ruby. His sweet, stubborn witch, doing all this work for people who didn’t appreciate her.

The Skullstalker stepped back, admiring his work. “Are you ready?”