Page 12

Ten

S kullstalkers were not a nervous species.

Slate reminded himself of this fact as he led Ruby into his nest.

Skullstalkers were one of the most dangerous creatures in any realm. They rarely had reasons to be anxious, especially one as old and powerful as Slate.

So, there was no reason for the shadows around his skull mask to start billowing like a storm.

Ruby tore her eyes away from the nest to watch the shadows pour. “Is that meant to happen?”

“Yes,” Slate assured her. “Completely normal.”

He clenched his fists at his sides, willing the shadows to be still.

It was no use. There was an old animal instinct arising in him, hissing and feral.

It reminded him of his earliest days when he didn’t know what a castle was, and his bone mask was a thin membrane his brothers could pierce with one claw.

There was a cave. He was almost certain. One of his brothers—he couldn’t remember which one—had brought in someone who wasn’t supposed to be there. And the air had gone thick with the same fearful, protective scent spilling off of Slate right now: danger , it warned. Intruder, fight, kill!

Slate assured the instinct that there would be no killing. Certainly not Ruby, who was gazing around the nest with such sweet wonder it made the instinct die down to a low hiss.

“It looks so soft,” she said. “I didn’t notice before.”

She took a step toward it, then hesitated. She looked back toward him for permission.

Slate opened his mouth to say she could look but not touch. He had not allowed anyone to touch his nest, even Paimon. Except for the dog spirit, who had done it while he was sleeping. The little bastard.

“Go ahead,” he said instead.

Ruby’s surprised smile was almost worth how annoyed he was at himself.

He was one of the most powerful creatures in the voids.

And he was letting some puny mortal touch his nest, getting her scent all over it.

Not only that, he was fetching her food and spinning her dresses and daggers out of shadows. What was happening to him?

“This part of the forest is protected,” Slate told her as she pressed at the fur lining the nest. “Just like the castle. If I am away, I am either fetching something for you in the mortal realm or I am here.”

Ruby looked over. One of her feet was in the nest, bracing to haul herself up.

“Will I have to try very hard to wake you?”

Slate considered. “We are bound. So, no. I will sense you.”

Ruby didn’t bring up that he wasn’t able to sense that demon before until it was on top of them. Or the lost soul until she had started talking to it. But he could see it in her face as she looked away, climbing into the nest on her hands and knees.

She settled into the middle of the nest, feeling the soft surface with a growing grin.

“I didn’t think it would be so comfortable ,” she gushed. She ran the fur between her fingers. “Is this deer velvet?”

“I don’t know what that is,” Slate said honestly. “It is Helvik fur. A creature that dwells in a long-forgotten void,” he explained when she gave him a blank look.

“Well, it’s lovely.” Ruby ran her hands once more over the fur, then touched a feather next to her head.

It was from a bird in his own void, and he thought she would recoil from the shadows dripping off of it.

But her smile stayed bright and vibrant, her eyes softening in awe as she stroked his nest.

Then her stomach rumbled. She winced, her gaze flying to him nervously.

Slate stepped forward. “Are you hungry?”

“I have pie in my room,” Ruby said hastily and paused. “ The room. There’s a lot of it left; I will be fine for today.”

Slate couldn’t tell if she was lying. He still didn’t know how much mortals needed to eat. But if she was hungry now…

He reached into his loincloth and brought out the wrapped bar of chocolate.

“It was in a human kitchen,” he explained. “I assume it is suitable.”

He held it out. Ruby took it, her small fingers brushing his.

“Wow,” she said quietly.

She was holding it so reverently that Slate frowned. “Is it not part of your diet? You said?—”

“No, it’s wonderful!” Ruby clasped it to her chest as if he would take it away from her. “We have no chocolatiers in town. There is one person who sells it on market day. He imports it from the city, but his supply is always gone by the time I get to the market.”

Her brow wrinkled. Slate got the impression there was more to the story than that.

Like perhaps the man was lying to her for some stupid mortal reason.

Maybe he didn’t like witches. Which was ridiculous.

Every passing hour with Ruby revealed that she was a kind, irritatingly helpful person, and her being a witch should make them respect her more, not less.

At least, that was what Slate found when he visited the mortal realm before Ruby came along.

Ruby unfolded the chocolate and paused. “Is it alright if I eat it here?”

Slate made it a rule not to eat in his nest unless he was picking the bones clean. But he nodded, and Ruby broke off a piece and stuffed it in her mouth.

The chocolate did not look appealing with its hard and waxy appearance.

But Ruby moaned in pleasure, the noise making Slate remember how she had looked stretched out around his fingers.

His own hunger unfurled in his stomach, and for a moment, it even felt genuine.

Like he did not just want to eat, he needed it.

Like he might feel weak and useless if he didn’t do it soon.

“I appreciate you going to all the effort,” Ruby said, licking a shred of chocolate off her palm. It was already melting against her warm skin.

He tore her gaze away from the drop rolling down her wrist. “I must. Even with your dagger, you are still in danger. I will bring you food, and you can fetch water from the faucets. Stay out of the forest unless I am with you, or unless you absolutely have to wake me.”

“I will,” Ruby said and swallowed another piece of chocolate. “You’ve been… very good to me.”

Slate snorted. But he could not find any trace of sarcasm in her tone, only gratefulness. And, he supposed, he had been good to her. Especially considering that he had been thinking about eating her when she appeared.

He still wanted to. But the want was melding with so many others it was getting hard to pick out his want to eat her from his want to—for instance—watch her eat chocolate. Or hold her down and push his tongue inside her. Or feel that dagger holster on her thigh again.

“I am bound to complete the warding ritual,” he reminded her, ignoring all his writhing, unruly wants. “I cannot do that if you starve to death before we prepare you thoroughly.”

Ruby flushed, as she so often did when he brought up what they had to do to complete the rite.

“I only mean to say thank you,” she said. “Being a gracious host is yet another aspect of the dreaded Bygone they left out of the stories.”

“Then that is one part they got correct. I have never hosted before.”

She paused, her chewing slowing. “What about Paimon?”

Slate waved a dismissive claw. “Paimon left whenever he wished. I had no duty to host him. We spent most of our time outside this void, anyhow.”

“Oh.” Ruby picked distractedly at a patch of moss under her knees. “I thought you spent most of your time asleep.”

“Before that,” Slate said. “I did not spend all of my existence in this nest. Only the past few millennia.”

Ruby’s eyes grew round. Slate wondered what it was like to not be able to comprehend that length of time. Slate had been alive for so many human generations he probably seemed impossibly old to her.

Then again, he was impossibly old to most. Not much was older than him, except for the creatures who invented these voids in the first place. And as far as he knew, they were all dead.

“That sounds… peaceful,” Ruby said slowly. “Lonely. But peaceful.”

“ Lonely .” Slate snorted, his tail flicking. “I was picked for this void for a reason. I enjoy my solitude.”

“You were picked ?”

“Every elder Skullstalker was picked for their void. Not like the younglings, who stagger around any void they can find, wreaking destruction.” He pointed at the chocolate melting in her hand. “You are dripping.”

“What? Oh!” Ruby ran her tongue over her chocolate-streaked wrist. Her tongue was so small, and yet Slate could not tear his eyes away.

His mind filled with memories: Ruby running her small tongue up his cock.

Fitting it into his slit and licking away the salt. Rubbing it so tenderly over his knot?—

“For someone who likes being alone so much,” Ruby said quietly, fiddling with a feather jutting out next to her leg, “You don’t seem too annoyed having me around.”

Her heart was racing. He could smell the sweat on her skin.

His mouth filled with saliva, which had been happening more since her arrival.

At first, he assumed it was because of her soft, tantalizing meat.

But the saliva usually occurred when he was thinking of devouring her in a very different way.

He loomed closer, watching her pupils swell. “Are you still sore?”

“I’m sensitive but not sore. I, um…” Ruby cringed. “I keep touching myself? Which isn’t helping.”

Slate didn’t respond. He was lost for words, which was such a rare occurrence he had no defense against it.

The saliva pooling in his mouth was coming dangerously close to dripping down his chin.

His eyelids drooped behind his mask as he imagined Ruby’s lithe fingers slipping inside herself, stuffing her hole as full as she could manage.

Ruby’s throat clicked. She shifted against his nest, getting her scent over it. She smelled delectably wet. He wanted to eat her whole.

“Do…” She hesitated, looking up to meet his half-lidded eyes. “Do you ever do that? Touch yourself?”

Slate suddenly wanted to rub her scent around his entire nest. To go to sleep in it. To strip her naked and watch her arch against the furs as he stretched her.

Ruby bit her lip. “Slate?”