Page 25 of Ivy & Bone

But a shadowy figure snatched Mona around the waist and tugged her away. Prue only caught a glimpse of inky black hair and a single streak of silver before darkness consumed her.

Gasping, Prue woke, her heart racing. She clutched her chest, only to find the pomegranate necklace warm at her throat. Gradually, her panic subsided and her eyes adjusted to the darkness of the room. Her hammock still swung with the ship’s rocking motions as she wiped sweat from her face.

Goddess, that dream had seemed so real . . . As irresponsible as Prue was, she was never one to push aside premonitions. Even she knew better than that. Her mouth twisted as she tried to recall details, which slipped from her hands like droplets of water.

The figure who had snatched Mona—who was he? The streak of silver in his hair was similar to Cyrus’s, but the opposite; Cyrus had nearly all-silver hair with a single black streak. And this figure had been taller and leaner. Plus, he lacked the distinct tattoos on his skin that Cyrus had.

Whoever the man was, it wasn’t Cyrus. As easy as it was to believe the god of Hell was her enemy, that much was clear.

Prue’s nerves were frayed. She was on edge. Restless. Agitated. It quite easily could’ve been a normal nightmare.

But witches didn’t get normal nightmares. Especially not her, who was blessed by the Triple Goddess.

Prue sat up, peeling her sticky curls off her forehead and neck, struggling to breathe deeply. But it was so stifling belowdecks. The air reeked of sweat and seaweed.

Without another thought, she swung out of the hammock and climbed the stairs to the surface, already enjoying the wisps of fresh sea air that coiled around her with each step she took. A midnight sky full of stars greeted her, accompanied by the gentle spray of sea water from the hull as the ship pressed onward. A breeze whipped at her hair, cooling her from the sweltering terror of her dream.

Yes, this was much better.

She maneuvered toward the bow until she was close enough to the edge to rest her arms against the gunnel, allowing the splash of the ocean to soothe her anxiety.

“You humans always were a restless bunch.”

Prue might’ve jolted at the sound, but thankfully, the rush of water underneath her provided a calming background noise that almost drowned out Cyrus’s voice entirely. She could even pretend he hadn’t spoken at all.

But then the heat of him behind her sent her body spinning. Unwilling to let him approach without her watching him, she whirled to face him, eyes narrowing.

“What are you doing up here?” she accused. Her eyes roved over his form. He was shirtless, but at least he had the decency to keep his trousers on. “Don’t you immortals sleep?”

“Actually, we don’t.” Cyrus smirked at her, leaning casually against the gunnel alongside her. Despite the tattoos and unusual hair and eye color, his confident swagger made him seem like he belonged here and no one could tell him otherwise. Prue envied that confidence, though she would never admit it. Self-assured bastard.

She forced herself to turn away from him, though the back of her neck prickled from the presence of someone powerful and otherworldly behind her. “Well, I came up here to be alone. So, if you don’t mind . . .”

Cyrus huffed a laugh. “We may be bound, but you certainly do not have authority to give me orders.”

Prue flinched at the word “bound.” Well, at least he hadn’t said married.

“What happened in your village . . .” Cyrus took a breath before continuing. “You said it had happened before.”

Prue remained silent, waiting for him to ask his question, though it wasn’t hard to guess. Even so, she wasn’t keen on sharing the circumstances of her sister’s death with him.

“When?” Cyrus finally asked. “How?”

“Why does it matter?” Prue snapped.

“It’s the Book of Eyes,” Cyrus said calmly, unfazed by her irritation. “My connection to this realm. I need to know how it happened before to better understand . . .” He trailed off, his eyes darkening slightly. He lifted his chin, resolve filling his face. “To better understand what tethers me here.”

Curiosity prodded Prue’s mind, pushing out all thoughts of Mona and the nightmare. She half-turned to face him again. “How does that work, exactly?”

Cyrus scowled. “I believe I asked you a question first.”

It was Prue’s turn to smirk. “Answer mine, and I’ll answer yours.”

Cyrus’s eyebrows lowered in clear annoyance. It only made Prue’s smile widen. Funny, how his displeasure stoked her glee like fuel to a fire. But, to her surprise—and slight disappointment—he relented. He shifted, pressing his back to the gunnel and crossing his arms. Prue tried not to stare at the way the ink on his biceps twisted with the movement.

“It is the source of my power,” Cyrus said. “But it binds me to the mortal realm. The book serves as a gate to my world. An access point. And the power within the book is fueled by my soul.”

Prue’s eyes widened. “Your soul?”

---