Page 59 of Bound

First, there was nothing. Then lips pressed against her forehead. The slightest pinch of a bone mask pressed with it.

“Goodnight,” Slate said quietly. “Little witch.”

Sixteen

This was usually when Slate retreated to his nest. But it was getting harder to leave his mortal after they had completed their stretching sessions.

He sighed, smoothing her long, dark hair away from her face. Then he pressed a kiss to the mark he had dented into her cheek with his skull mask and got up.

“I will be back before you wake,” he whispered.

He paused at the door, watching her chest rise and fall. He had remembered to place the covers over her this time. Mortals were so sensitive to the cold.

The portal only burned for a minute before Wick stepped into his void.

“Slate,” he said, his fiery eyes flickering with surprise as he stepped into the shadowy forest. “I did not expect to see you again so soon. How was the kobald?”

“Fine.” Slate licked his back teeth, where flecks of demon flesh still clung.

Wick nodded, looking pleased. Another thing Slate appreciated about him: he seemed honestly excited by others’ happiness.

“It is good to see you hunting again,” Wick told him. “I thought your fangs had dulled.”

Slate snorted. “You would know.”

Wick’s wings twitched. His eyes flamed even as he looked away, and Slate wondered if there had been another incident of blood frenzy. Wick had been careful to stay away from situations that triggered it, but there was no escape.

Slate opened his mouth to apologize, but Wick talked over him, alarmed.

“What happened to your arm? That was not the kobald.”

Slate raised his burned arm. “Malblossom. My attackers regretted it.”

“May you heal fast.” Wick bowed his head. “I’m glad you summoned me. I wanted to speak with you.”

Slate frowned. “You did? About what?”

Wick hesitated. “How goes training the human?”

“Fine,” Slate lied. Then he stopped, his tail lashing. “When you mated with them. How did you make yourself fit?”

Wick made a considering noise that sounded like flames crackling. “Mm. About that… I may have been exaggerating about mating with mortals.”

“What?” Slate barked. He imagined going back to Ruby and telling her that actually they couldn’t fulfill the ritual, that she would have to find some other magic-using creature to mate with her. “You said you could do it!”

“I’ve heard others say that, butI’mnot dumb enough to—” Wick stopped, coughing ash into his fist. “I mean, they areverysmall.”

Slate growled, grinding his fangs together. That wasn’t so much of a problem for Wick, who was smaller than him. Most Skullstalkers were.

“But,” Wick said desperately. “That doesn’t mean it’s impossible. I was asking around, and there is a spell?—”

“Show me,” Slate demanded.

Wick’s wings twitched apologetically. “It is in the mortal realm. There’s a cave deep in the moors of Anderfel where one of our brothers resides.”

Slate grabbed his hand and straightened it into a claw, pointing it into the forest air.

“Focus on it,” he ordered.

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