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“Good,” Slate said quietly. Then he paused like he hadn’t meant to say that. He lifted his dripping fingers to her face and retracted his claws. “Hold still.”

She swallowed, her dry throat clicking. “Wait!”

His fingers paused an inch away from her cheek. “Yes?”

“Can…” She swallowed again. “Can I have some water? I’m thirsty.”

The shadows leaking out from his mask flickered. His tail swished, and Ruby thought of the unfriendly stray cats who lined up at her door asking for food but denying her pats.

“ Mortals ,” he muttered dismissively.

But he set the bowl back on the table and left the room, reappearing a surprisingly short time later with a chalice of water.

The chalice—like the table and the door—was also far too big for him.

It made Ruby wonder if this castle was ever meant for Skullwalkers at all.

That being said, she didn’t know any creature bigger than a Skullstalker who had the capabilities to want a castle, let alone be able to make one.

Ruby reached for it, only to stop when he held it up to her lips.

“Open,” he said.

Ruby let her mouth fall open. He tipped the water into her mouth, and Ruby gulped as best she could. But it was too much. Water rolled down her chin and her neck.

“Sorry,” she said, her mind flurrying. Why was she apologizing?

Slate grunted as he watched a drop slide over her hardening nipple. It sounded like branches breaking.

“Interesting,” he grumbled.

“What?”

“Your body.” Slate placed the mug down and dipped two fingers into the dark blue liquid again. “One touch and it changes. Your skin slicks with sweat, and your pupils swell. I haven’t seen it since I last ate one of you.”

Ruby’s heart thudded painfully in her chest as she imagined him pinning her down in that dark forest. Those sharp claws shredding her dress from chest to thigh, that big, long tongue down her belly?—

Slate pressed his wet fingers against her cheek.

Ruby gasped. His fingers were cool and slick, moving in short lines as he decorated her face.

It was, she realized with a hot sense of humiliation, the most intimate anyone had been with her since the last witch of Sweetsguard died.

She almost wished he would be rough with her.

He was touching her so gently that she wanted to thank him for it.

She blinked back the heat behind her eyes. “Is there… is there any news about Paimon?”

“Nothing.” He stroked a line down her nose. “It is like he vanished.”

He sounded frustrated. She frowned.

“Were you…?” Ruby jolted as he traced a line over her breast. His touch filled her with hot anticipation and deep worry. “Um, were you close?”

She expected him to brush her off. His tail swished again, irritated.

“Once,” he admitted grudgingly.

Ruby thought that was the end of that. She closed her eyes, forcing herself not to shiver as his fingers ran a circle around her belly button.

Then Slate asked, “How long have you worshipped him?”

Ruby’s eyes flew open. Was he really trying to make conversation right now?

“My whole life,” Ruby replied. “He takes care of my town. That’s all I want to do.”

Slate rumbled low in his throat. It sounded very close to a laugh. But—shockingly—not a dismissive one. He cut it off quickly, his gaze darting back to where he was tracing swirling patterns over her trembling belly.

“You must care for your town very much.”

Ruby smiled tightly. “I do.”

Even if they don’t care for me , she finished silently.

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. It had to work. She had never felt so powerful, so connected ?—

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 was huge . So huge that Ruby shuddered in equal parts excitement and terror. But even that wasn’t the worrying part.

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

“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 she had given 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.

Interesting , Ruby remembered him saying.

She gasped as that hand stroked down between her legs, pulling them gently apart.

Something prodded at her entrance, and she tensed. But it wasn’t the impossible stretch of his cock pressing into her. It was his finger, claws thankfully retracted.

“I do not know much about humans,” Slate admitted, sounding oddly hesitant. He pressed his finger shallowly inside. “You will… stretch. Correct?”

Ruby laughed hoarsely. She was shaking, she couldn’t stop it. His finger felt strange but so good inside her, pumping lazily as he waited for her response.

“We do,” she whispered. “We do stretch.”

“Good. You will need to.”

His finger disappeared. Something else brushed against her opening instead, so huge that Ruby gasped.

Her clit throbbed. Even as she waited for the pain to start, she couldn’t deny the effect this was having on her. If only he would touch her again. A hand on her back, an arm wrapped underneath her breasts. Fangs on her neck, tail wrapping around her leg, his strange voice panting in her ear?—

But the only touch she got was a clawed hand on her hip, wrapping around almost her entire torso as he pushed inside.

Or tried to.

Ruby couldn’t hide her wince at the blunt intrusion at her entrance. It wasn’t going in, but the pressure stung.

Slate growled. “When does the stretching begin?”

Ruby’s eyes prickled with pained tears. “Any s-second now.”

Slate pushed more insistently. The narrowest point of his cock slipped inside.

Ruby bit her lip to muffle a cry. The heat between her legs was gone, replaced by a shooting pain she had never known.

Her fingers dug into the crumbling stone. She had to take his knot to complete the ritual. But how could she if she couldn’t even take the head?

Suddenly, the painful pressure was gone.

“Why are you weeping?” Slate asked, annoyed. “Are mortals supposed to weep when they mate?”

“No, it’s—” Ruby sniffed, trying to stop the tears from slipping down her cheeks. “I’m fine. You can keep going.”

She dropped her forehead to the stone ward, waiting. But the pressure didn’t come back.

Slate dropped her hip. The soft sting of his claws disappearing felt like failure.

“Wait!” Ruby turned, wiping her wet cheeks. “I can do it! I promise!”

“You cannot,” he said. “Why did you tell me it was possible? And why are you still weeping?”

“What? I’m not! I’m just—” Ruby wiped her face more desperately. “I feel stupid.”

“Why?” Slate frowned. “It is not your fault you are small and weak. It is your fault you lied to me. Why bother asking for a ritual you cannot complete?”

Ruby hugged her arms, trying not to feel like such a failure. But it was difficult when she was standing naked in front of a monster who hadn’t even been able to fit his cockhead inside her.

“It’s not just because I’m small. It’s also…” She sighed, bracing herself. “I’ve never done this before.”