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Eighteen

I would never sleep again if I got to have this, Slate thought as he rolled onto his back, careful not to dislodge his knot. I would stay awake for the rest of time to make sure I never missed a second.

Ruby made a shocked noise as she settled above him, as if she couldn’t believe his knot was really inside her. Then she braced her hands on his stomach, her hips moving in tiny motions against the knot.

He grabbed her hips, stilling them. “Careful. I will get hard again before we make it to the ward stone.”

“How awful,” Ruby teased. She rocked again, squirming against his hard hold.

Slate’s smile dimmed. The ritual was so close. Then she would be gone from him. He would visit, of course. But she would be gone so fast. Eighty years was barely a blink for a Skullstalker. No, she was almost thirty—only fifty years to go. The concept was indescribable.

Ruby dug her teeth into her lip. “You could anoint me while you’re still inside me. No need to stay soft.”

Slate’s anguish over her leaving vanished into lust as he imagined it: lying her out on the tiles, their bodies still joined as he smoothed blue oil over her naked chest.

“I could carry you,” he said slowly.

She nodded eagerly.

Slate gripped her thighs and stood. She yelped, the sound turning into a moan as his knot tugged at her inner walls.

“Gods,” she whispered. “That’s so good. I never knew anything could feel this good. I’m never going to get used to it.”

Slate stopped. He looked down just in time to see her pleased smile turn stiff.

“I mean,” she started. “It… will be difficult to settle for mortal men.”

Her words filled Slate with bitterness. For a moment, he almost wished the mortal had left him to his slumber. He could have slept another century and never known she existed. Instead, he would be left with an empty realm frequented only by lost souls he was bound to fail as the centuries passed.

Maybe there will be another mortal , he thought. The thought made his stomach curdle. There was no other mortal. Only Ruby. Ruby and her sweet, stubborn nature, her kindness and her curiosity, and her eager, tight cunt.

There would never be another. Slate had never loved before this. He would never love again. It was a harrowing realization to have when he was still inside her, his knot binding them together in the nest he had constructed around her while she slept.

“Slate?”

Slate startled. He had been making a low, mournful whine without realizing it.

He cut himself off and nodded. “I will take you to the anointing oil.”

He walked her there slowly, through every twisting hall she had started mapping out in those first few weeks.

She stayed silent, for the most part. A few whimpers when he readjusted her, a gasp or two when his hips twitched against his will. But mostly she was quiet, her cheek pressed into his chest and her hands on his shoulders.

Finally, Slate led them into the bathroom where he had first anointed her. The jar of blue liquid remained, with traces of liquid dried to the floor where they had dripped off her body.

Slate held her close, considering.

“Hold still,” he told her. Then he knelt and lowered her carefully to the floor, propping her hips up on his legs.

He leaned back. She looked delectable, laid out like this, with her hole stretched out around his knot.

He traced the place where they were joined, making them both hiss.

“Don’t get distracted,” she reminded him with a grin.

“ I wanted to go to the stone ward,” he replied. He took the jar and set it next to her head. Then he dipped his fingers to the hilt.

Ruby stayed still as he wound lines around her breasts, her navel, and her neck.

She didn’t look away once, her breath slow and even as she watched him paint her.

Slate couldn’t help but think back to the first time they had done this, her breath quick and panicked, how she had trembled under his touch.

There was some trembling. But he could recognize it for what it was: aftershocks of the pleasure he’d given her. Mortals were, after all, so very responsive.

He finished with her lower lip. He left one dark spot, tugging it down until her lips parted.

She blinked up at him very slowly, her lip dragging against his finger.

Slate let his finger drop away and sat back. She was so beautiful like this, covered in his markings, her dark hair clouding around her head and her eyes fixed on his.

Her tongue darted out to brush over the spot he’d painted on her lip. “What is it?”

Slate didn’t know what to say. You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. You’ve made me feel more awake than anything in all my long existence. Don’t leave.

“You look like you deserve to be worshipped,” he said instead.

He carried her to the stone ward next. It took a long time, and they were both panting when they finally emerged into the forest clearing.

Slate adjusted her on his newly hard cock. His knot had deflated on the walk, and he had to force himself not to shove her against a tree and rut until he finished again.

He laid her out on the stone slab, right over the faint blue glow of the rune.

“Are you ready?” he asked.

She stared up at him, chest heaving. The paint was smudged, but the lines were still there. It would work.

He thought sadly of breaking one of those lines with his thumb so the spell would fail. Then he saw the heady determination in her eyes and stopped himself.

She pulled on his horns. “Do it. Fuck me.”

Only if you stay, he thought. We are bound; I can make you stay.

He didn’t say it. Instead, he pulled back, slamming back into her with such force they both yelled.

“Gods,” she whined. She threw her head back, sliding her hands down to cover his hands where they were holding her legs back. “I’m going to bruise tomorrow.”

Slate fucked into her again, grinding his hips against her. “Do you wish me to be gentle?”

“No,” she gasped. “I-I want you to take me as hard as you can. Don’t hold back.”

He knew he shouldn’t listen to her. She was so fragile. But he couldn’t stop himself. He shoved harder inside, letting the bulb of his thickening knot catch against her entrance.

Ruby gasped. Her hands flew down to touch her stomach, where a bulge appeared every time he bottomed out.

They both groaned as she covered the spot with her hands.

He couldn’t feel her fingers through her skin, but he could feel how deep she was letting him in.

He could feel his own spend dripping around him, could feel her body stretch and strain to accommodate that as well.

And yet she was still so tight . As if the spell stretched her to barely fit him, but no more.

The clearing filled with the wet sounds of mating, their ragged cries climbing to join it.

Slate bent over her, fucking her so hard the stone ward rocked on the ground. Then he caught a glimpse of stray wetness on her cheek and stopped.

Ruby whimpered. “Don’t stop!”

He let his tongue drop out, licking up the salt. “You’re weeping.”

Ruby opened her wet eyes. Another tear ran down the side of her face, blurring—but not breaking—the lines on her cheek.

“It feels so good,” she said thickly. “I-I can’t believe this is happening. Please don’t stop, Slate. I want to be yours.”

Slate groaned and buried himself as deep as he could go, watching her belly bulge with it. He bent down and caught her mouth in a vicious kiss, his fangs catching her lip.

The ritual paint stayed intact. But when he drew back, there was a smudge imprinted on his own mouth.

Mine , Slate thought.

He growled and came, hot come gushing deep inside. He shoved his knot as deep as he could, legs quaking as he swelled and locked them together.

Ruby cried out, arching against the slab. “ Yes !”

Blue light radiated from her hair. Slate lifted his head groggily, watching. For a moment he thought that she was glowing. Then he saw Paimon’s rune below her and understood.

The ritual was working. He could feel magic filling the air, sharp and electric. The symbol underneath Ruby glowed brighter until she was backlit by a sea of blue.

Ruby didn’t seem to notice. Her eyes were squeezed shut, and her hands locked around his horns as he fucked into her.

In the distance, the dog spirit barked.

Ruby gasped. Her eyes flew open, and Slate startled.

Blue light flowed out of Ruby’s eyes and streamed down her cheeks. Light climbed her skin and her hair, turning each dark thread ward-blue.

Slate panicked, grabbing Ruby’s shoulders. “Ruby!”

But Ruby was still arching, her hands still locked around his horns. She wasn’t in pain, he realized as the light grew so bright Slate’s dark eyes watered. She was coming, he could feel her squeezing around his cock.

Finally, the light began to dim. Ruby sagged against the stone slab, her chest heaving. She was giggling faintly.

He stroked her hair out of her face, relieved and torn. They had done it. His part of their binding was fulfilled. Her town was safe?—

A loud crack rang out through the clearing.

Slate stared as a fissure appeared in the stone above Ruby’s head.

“Ruby,” he said.

Ruby didn’t move. She was staring up at the evening sky, her face set in a wide grin.

Another crack split the stone underneath Ruby’s hips.

“ Ruby ,” Slate snapped. He went to scoop her up, only to stop when Ruby’s hand slapped into his chest.

“Don’t,” she said.

Slate reeled. There was something in her voice, old and oddly familiar.

“Your ward,” he said, panicked. “It isn’t renewing. It’s breaking. I do not understand what we did wrong.”

Ruby’s hand gentled, rubbing over his chest.

“We did nothing wrong,” she said. “But we need to go.”

She looked down to where they were joined, her expression turning mournful. Then she reached down and slid her fingertip over the spot where they were joined.

Slate jerked. His knot was shrinking. The cause was magical, he could feel it surging through him.

“Ruby,” he whispered. “I don’t?—”

She shushed him. Then she leaned up, kissing him long and deep as his knot softened and the stone ward cracked into tiny pieces behind them.

“Let me down,” she said.

Bewildered, he did. He looked around the woods, checking for demons who might be playing another cruel trick. But he could sense no one. Just him and Ruby, alone in the forest.

Ruby waved a hand.

Slate watched, dazed, as his loincloth appeared around his hips. Then as her dress of shadows wrapped around her skin, a flash of her dagger on her thigh before the dress’s long folds covered it.

Slate stared as a slow realization washed over him.

Whatever they had done, it had turned Ruby into something…

else . Her chin was high as ever, but it was less defiant and more assured.

Like she knew nothing in this forest could hurt her.

Her skin shone with sweat, but there was nothing weary in her posture.

She looked like she could take on a god.

Then she breathed out a long sigh, and she was his witch again.

“Okay,” Ruby said breathily. She wobbled, and Slate moved automatically to steady her.

She leaned against him with a grateful smile.

“Thank you,” she said. “This is… an adjustment. Could you do something else for me?”

“Anything,” Slate vowed.

Ruby smiled and pressed a kiss to his palm.

“Open a portal to Sweetsguard,” she said. “And fast. They don’t have much time.”