Page 42 of Bound

Slate looked different when he was asleep.

Soft. Oddly tender. Also, he curled up like a cat, which made Ruby think of the wordadorable—as if it could ever be applied to a Skullstalker.

He would be decidedlylessadorable once he woke up. Ruby was deciding whether a trek back through the forest was worth it after spending all this time finding her way here from the castle. But if she got attacked by demons, she’d never hear the end of it. If she even survived long enough for him to berate her.

She sighed. Then she reached out and touched him cautiously on the shoulder.

“Slate?”

Nothing. Slate didn’t even flinch.

She pushed harder on his shoulder. Slate’s tail flicked out and swatted her arm away with such force that she stumbled back.

“Ow,” she muttered. She raised her voice reluctantly. “Slate!”

Slate rumbled low in his chest. One eyelid pried open, his black eye fixing on her.

For a moment he said nothing. He just lay there and stared, his curled body cushioned by feathers and furs, which she could have sworn had gotten thicker since she was here last.

Then he growled, pushing himself up on his elbows. “I told you not to come into the forest unless I was present.”

“Or unless I needed you,” she corrected.

Slate’s growl turned into an annoyed grumble. “I barely had time to nap.”

“It’s been two days,” Ruby replied awkwardly.

Slate frowned sleepily. “Do you need food?”

“No,” Ruby replied, thinking of the dried meat, fruit, and oats she had piled up in the drawers beside her bed. “The last batch could last me weeks if I needed.”

“Then what?”

Ruby paused. She had said it several times now. But it was still hard to say, especially when he said it so much better.

She waited until his eyes went half-lidded, his swishing tail stilling against the nest.

“You’re ready again?” he asked, his voice low and silky.

Ruby shifted on the spot, feeling the flat of the shadow dagger press against her thigh. She was still tender inside from last time. But she could take it.

She nodded.

Slate surged up and grabbed her waist.

Ruby’s breath thudded out of her as he threw her into his nest. Sometimes they did this in her bed, but more often nowadays they did it in his nest. She was starting to prefer it, and she suspected he did too. He was always rubbing her fluids into the furs like he wanted evidence of her there later. Or maybe that was pure instinct and didn’t mean anything at all.

Slate leaned over her, his loincloth already thrown to the forest floor.

“Open your legs,” he purred.

Ruby shivered and did.

The next day, Ruby explored the kitchen.

She walked carefully. The day after taking his cock was always when she was the most sensitive. Even her thighs ached from her brief attempt at riding him.

Ruby stared up at the towering stone counter. It was almost up to her neck; she could hardly cut up her skinned rabbit on it.

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