Page 32 of Ivy & Bone

Still, Cyrus said nothing, but she felt his steady breaths beside her.

“I’ll still think of you as the same powerful, arrogant asshole I know you to be,” Prue added.

Cyrus laughed. The sound was so rich and deep that Prue couldn’t help her own smile. She hadn’t heard him laugh like that since he’d been in the crypt with her, having just realized they were married.

Goddess. Married. And here she was, sharing a bed with him for the first time. Her cheeks heated at the thought. Obviously, nothing would happen, but . . .

Prue frowned as she realized something. “You do realize that if we . . . you know, consummate our marriage, then you’ll have access to your powers again, right?”

“I know.”

“Then . . .”

He turned to look at her, but she couldn’t meet his gaze. She heard the amusement in his voice when he asked, “Are you offering?”

Her face was on fire now. “No. I’m just saying, you strike me as someone who takes what he wants without asking. So . . .”

“Are you asking me why I haven’t raped you?” His voice turned cold.

Prue flinched at the words. “Obviously, I’m glad you haven’t. But why? I’m nothing to you, right? I know you’re already sick of this arrangement.”

“There are some lines even I wouldn’t cross.” Cyrus’s voice was still sharp, as if he were offended that she was even asking this.

“But you would slit the throats of random strangers? Your lines are really vague, then.”

“There is a difference between death and pain. To me, death is not so much a punishment as a passage to another realm. It can be painless. My thoughts of murdering others were not as cold-hearted as you would believe. More than anything, I just wanted to ensure they were out of my path for the foreseeable future. That is all. But . . . pain? Trauma? No. I would not inflict that on anyone.” He paused. “Unless they deserved it.”

Prue would have laughed, but his voice hardened with a sharp edge that made her believe he had someone specific in mind for that kind of torment. He was the god of the dead, after all; torture was his specialty.

Her mouth went dry as she finally turned her head on the pillow to look at him. His luminescent eyes shone in the darkness, two glowing orbs that burned brighter than the fading candle behind him. She had briefly wondered if it was uncomfortable to lie down when he had horns, but they rested comfortably on the pillows behind him.

For just the briefest of moments, she let herself imagine what it would be like to hear him growl her name in that low, throaty voice he often used when angry, to run her fingers along his horns, to feel his hands caress her body, or to feel his cock moving inside her . . .

Startled, Prue blinked, realizing she’d gone too far with her thoughts. Blushing, she shifted slightly on the bed, trying to ignore the ache between her legs as she forced her thoughts elsewhere.

Suddenly, Cyrus was looking at her, too, his eyes burning as if he could read her thoughts. She sucked in a breath, every inch of her aware of how close he was to her. If she moved slightly, her bare foot would touch his. Or her arm might brush against his chest.

The thought of his skin on hers made her stomach turn to knots, so she quickly looked away. Her breathing was sharp and fast as she whispered a hasty, “Good night.”

“Prue,” a voice murmured.

Prue’s eyes flew open, her heart thundering. For one wild moment, she thought Cyrus was whispering to her. But when she turned to look at him, her mouth fell open.

He was asleep. His bare chest rose and fell with long, slow breaths. Prue wasn’t at all surprised to find he even scowled in his sleep.

So much for gods not sleeping, she thought with a smirk.

“Prue,” the voice said again.

Now fully awake, Prue could finally place the voice, and she shot bolt upright as awareness flooded her mind. Sure enough, standing at the foot of the bed, her pearly form transparent and haunting, stood Mona.

“Mona,” Prue breathed, relief flooding her chest. She’d feared something had happened to her sister’s spirit during Samhain. “Are you all right?”

Mona’s form flickered. “N-no. Prue, something is . . . happening.”

Alarm flared in Prue’s body, making her blood chill. “What’s wrong? What is it?”

“I can’t get to you as often as I could before. And . . . down here, things are . . . bad.” Her luminescent figure rippled again as if she were a flame amidst a storm, on the brink of dying out entirely.

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