Page 20 of Ivy & Bone

“Not if it means being chained to you. I’d gladly roam this awful realm on my own if it means freeing myself from this bondage.” He spat each word like it was a foul curse.

Prudence’s eyes narrowed. “I don’t give a damn what you want. You’re bound to me, and you can’t hurt me. You vowed you wouldn’t until we reached the gate. So you can either follow me to the docks or I’ll drag you there myself.”

Cyrus huffed a dry laugh as he scrutinized her tired gaze and frizzy hair. She was in no shape to drag a god anywhere. He crossed his arms and raised his eyebrows. “All right. Go on and drag me.”

Prudence blinked, her face slackening in shock. Cyrus watched her smugly, amusement mingling with satisfaction within him. At long last, he had bested her. And he reveled in it.

Freedom at last.

Cyrus spread his arms. “I’m waiting.”

“I don’t have time for this,” Prudence said through clenched teeth.

He scoffed. “I didn’t have time to be yanked away from my home against my will, and yet, here we are.”

“Cyrus—”

He took a step closer to her, baring his teeth. “I am not moving from this spot unless forced.” He cocked his head and smirked. “Of course, you could always just run off to your dear mama and ask her to do the work for you.”

Rage burned in Prudence’s eyes, and Cyrus knew he’d struck a nerve. His smile widened.

“Why?” she snarled. “Why are you doing this? You hate this realm! Don’t you want to go back home?”

“What I want right now is to inconvenience you the same way you inconvenienced me.”

Prudence threw her hands in the air. “You are a child!”

Cyrus merely continued grinning at her, knowing he’d won.

Then she looked at him, the ire fading from her face as something cool and calculating took over. “Oh, I get it now.”

Cyrus’s smile faltered. “What?”

“You’re the devil. Torturing people is your specialty.” She waved a hand between them, a slow smile spreading across her face. “That’s what you’re doing right now. You’re torturing me.”

Cyrus frowned. He didn’t like the gleam in her eyes. Not one bit. “For your information, I merely oversee the realm of the Underworld. Usually, the torture is reserved for lesser beings like demons.”

“Regardless, you’d still have to be pretty skilled in order to be the ruler of all that, wouldn’t you?” She tilted her chin and gazed up at him, adoration glowing in her eyes.

Suspicion bloomed in Cyrus’s thoughts. What was she doing? “Yes,” he said slowly, not trusting where this conversation was headed.

“You like toying with the mortals, don’t you?” Prudence draped her fingers over his arm, tracing the length of one of his tattoos.

Despite his unease, Cyrus couldn’t help the shiver that coursed through him or the way his skin prickled from her touch. “I—I don’t . . .” His words faltered, stuck in his throat. Why couldn’t he speak? Gods, she was standing so close to him . . .

She moistened her lips, and Cyrus’s eyes were inexplicably drawn to the movement, tracing the curve of her mouth with his gaze. Heat churned in his belly.

“You must be very powerful, then,” she murmured, her voice a soft caress in his ear.

A strangled noise climbed up his throat. He swallowed hard, feeling ridiculous. “Well, yes. I am.” Thank the gods his voice remained level.

Prudence caught her lower lip between her teeth, and Cyrus had the strangest urge to do the same, to drag his teeth along that full lip and see just what kind of sounds he could elicit from her . . .

Her eyes burned with a heady desire that made Cyrus lean into her, yearning for more. “You like playing games?” she asked, arching a single eyebrow as if issuing a challenge.

“Yes,” Cyrus said at once, though he couldn’t remember the question.

Prudence looked positively eager as she leaned into him, her face alight, and whispered, “Well, I’m good at games, too. And you, Your Highness, have just been beaten.”

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