Page 8

Seven

R uby expected the low growl to frighten her.

Instead, it made the heat between her legs pool even faster.

She rubbed her thighs together under her dress, appalled and wondrous.

Since when had she been interested in feral beasts?

She had never dreamed of monsters when she was alone at night, touching herself in her empty cottage.

And here she was, dripping wet at the idea of being ravaged by a Skullstalker, of all things.

Then Ruby saw the impossible bulge tenting his loincloth, and the fantasy faded with a pang of fear.

Daydreams were all well and good until reality set in.

There was a reason they were practicing.

If he really held her down and had his way with her, she would be screaming before he was even halfway in, and not with ecstasy.

“Little witch,” Slate rumbled from where he had her pinned against the bed. “You did not answer my question.”

It took Ruby a moment to remember. His eyes were so intense on hers, his stature so imposing as he leaned over her.

But his grip was gentle. Her wrists didn’t even sting, and his claws were the barest brush against her skin.

Ruby shivered, her mind awash with lurid images. Most of them were impossible. They had to start slowly.

She motioned at his face. “Your skull mask… does it come off?”

“No.” He ducked down, gliding the sleek bone over her nose. “This is my face. Does it not please you?”

“No, it does,” Ruby said hastily. She was shocked to find that it wasn’t a lie. Not entirely, anyway. It intimidated her, of course. But there was something about a monster staring down at her with a skull mask leaking shadows that excited her.

Ruby twisted her wrists in his unrelenting grip. “You could… take my dress off?”

Slate cocked his head. At first, she thought he was going to ask her to do it herself.

Then he let go of her wrists—only with one hand, the other keeping her held tight.

That one hand reached down, a sharp claw touching just above her neckline.

He dragged his claw down. The shadowy material parted under his touch, and at first, Ruby thought he was shredding it. But there was no tearing noise, no drag of pressure.

He wasn’t tearing it. He was making it vanish , Ruby realized, her stomach swooping. He had conjured it out of shadows, and he could make it go away just as easily.

Ruby gasped. The shadows ran down her like water. Her beautiful dress dissipated against the coverlet, and suddenly, she was lying naked below him. She was suddenly glad for the fireplace, which had turned the air from chilly to something she could stand being naked in.

Slate’s claw stopped below her navel. His gaze roved over her, and Ruby’s face heated as she realized that he could have her naked at any time. One light touch and she could be fully bare and ready for him.

She glanced down at his impossible cock.

Well. Ready for something , at least. Not that he seemed incredibly interested in her when she had offered herself at the ward. She still didn’t understand it. He seemed like he wanted her if that growl was anything to go by. Would he turn her down again if she offered her hand or mouth?

Slate’s claw trailed down, curling against the coarse hair over her mound. He was so big he could easily hold her wrists and toy with her hole without straining his arms.

“How many years are you into adulthood?”

Ruby concentrated. It was hard to think with him looming over her like this, his black eyes half-lidded as he slid a finger further and further down. She could feel herself sweating. Her mouth was dry, her heart pounding so loud she could hear it. Could he hear it? She hoped not.

“S-six,” she stammered. “I was a woman at eighteen.”

“Six years,” Slate mused. He sounded conflicted. Ruby didn’t know if that was because she was young or because he couldn’t translate mortal years into immortal ones.

He hummed, the noise oddly birdlike. Much like the birdsong she had heard during her night in the forest. It made her wonder how much he was part of his void and how much his void was part of him.

Then his claw grazed her sensitive clit, and all her thoughts dissolved into too-intense pleasure.

She let out a pained hiss.

“I’m fine,” she assured him when he drew back, surprised. “I’m just…”

She bit her lip. She wasn’t going to explain how she had gotten herself off on this bed earlier.

“Claws,” she explained.

The pressure against her mound went blunt. “So very sensitive.”

“I know,” she said apologetically. She twisted her wrists in his grip.

“Maybe just focus on preparing me,” she told him. “Rather than… other things.”

Slate’s dark brow furrowed. But he pressed his finger against her folds, rubbing obediently against the entrance.

“You have never mated,” he said. “Why?”

“I…” Ruby’s mouth dropped open, a moan spilling out as he pressed his fingertip inside. He was so big . One of his fingers was easily worth three of hers. She could already feel the strain, even as she started to relax around the intrusion.

“The men in my town aren’t appealing,” she admitted breathlessly.

It was an understatement if she’d ever heard one—calling them men was a step too far.

Immature boys were more like it. Ruby had avoided them when they were growing up, and she avoided them now.

It was one of the good parts of her isolation: she didn’t have to put up with them leering at her in the market anymore.

Instead, they avoided her or shot her suspicious looks when she passed.

And, of course, they showed up shame-faced and mumbling when they needed their cock sores healed after they got back from visiting the city.

“Understandable,” Slate said, working a finger against her sweet spot. “Most humans aren’t.”

Ruby assured herself she wasn’t offended. But she couldn’t ignore the shard of ice in her heart that appeared at the words.

He let her wrists go and started cupping her breast. His thumb was huge, at least twice the size of the nipple he brushed over, and Ruby arched into it with a conflicted moan.

She couldn’t help it. She needed to ask.

“But I am?” She tried to pair it with a coy smile, but she was never good at coy. It came out shy and vulnerable instead, so meek it would have made her wince if he wasn’t fluttering his giant finger against that spot that made her see stars.

“You are…” Slate hesitated. “Not unappealing. For a mortal.”

With that, he tucked a second finger inside her.

Ruby bit her cheek. The stretch stung, but the slide was delicious. She was so wet his fingers squelched inside her.

She waited for the sting to subside. The pleasure was already mounting, overtaking it until the pain was a distant pinprick.

“Can you take another?” Slate asked, his voice more rumble than words.

Ruby cringed. “I… I don’t think so.”

The fireplace pulsed, sending up a shockingly tall gout of flame. It lit him from behind, haloing him in blue light.

“I think you can,” he said softly.

Ruby doubted it. Then he curled his fingers inside her, and those doubts were suddenly hazy and far away.

“O-okay,” she gasped.

Slate huffed against her hair. A third finger nudged against her entrance.

Ruby braced herself. But the stretch was too much. Even when his gentle probing turned insistent, that third fingertip was nowhere close to sliding in with the others.

“It won’t fit,” Ruby blurted. “Stop.”

Slate stilled. A low chirp rumbled in his chest, and Ruby’s knees trembled against the bed as failure thrummed through her. She could hardly take two fingers. How was she ever going to take his knot?

She glanced up at him, eyes filling with nervous tears. Was he disappointed? Was now where everything turned, and he started to act like she had expected him to when she appeared in his void?

But the words Slate spoke were not of disappointment. If anything, he sounded fascinated as he pressed his two fingers deep inside her.

“You really are incredibly small,” he said roughly. “I keep forgetting. Even when I am looking at you, it seems impossible anyone should be so small. Even a mortal woman.”

His fingers twisted inside her. Ruby moaned, her grip tightening on his elbows.

“I’m not that small,” she insisted. “I’m… perfectly normal for a human.”

“Yes,” Slate said. “Still.”

The implication made Ruby shiver: he was so very in human. This was a Skullstalker who didn’t even realize how long humans lived. He was entirely unknown, and she was letting him push his big fingers inside her, deeper than anyone had ever been.

The heat in her core was building. Ruby dropped her head against his massive arm. Slate’s fingering slowed, and Ruby wondered if she had done something he disliked.

“Sorry,” she said, lifting her head.

He cut her off. “Are you going to come like this? Just from my fingers inside?”

Ruby’s sensitive clit throbbed. She thought about touching it, but just the idea made her wince. She’d never used it so much before.

“Yes,” she admitted. Then his fingers crooked, and she groaned. “ Yes .”

Slate continued to make a beckoning motion inside her, fluttering against that spot that made her hips buck against him. Then his fingers parted, and Ruby whimpered.

He’s stretching me , she realized. Getting me ready.

That was what all this was about, after all. Preparing her to take his cock.

She cried out and came, clenching around his fingers. She could hear herself making pitiful noises, but it was difficult to care when she felt so good. Her hips flowed against him, riding out every last wave of pleasure until she was spent and quaking.

And still, Slate’s fingers remained.

She lifted her head off his arm. She was damp with sweat, her hair a frizzy mess where she’d rubbed them against him.

Ruby grimaced as she noticed she had left a patch of sweat on his skin. She was small , sure, but she was also so many other things he wasn’t used to. Including dripping… on him.

She smoothed a self-conscious hand through her messy hair. “That was… thank you.”