Page 45 of Ivy & Bone

A swell of power burned in his chest, loud and terrible, churning with a ferocity that made his bones quiver. Cyrus closed his eyes against the intensity of it, waiting for it to pass like it had last time. But his magic was even angrier this time. You’ve neglected me, it seemed to say. Don’t let that happen again. His magic raged and thrashed inside him, and he struggled to calm it. He took several deep breaths, but the foreign sensation didn’t leave him until he promised, I won’t.

Cyrus swallowed hard, his chest filling with unease as his magic receded. Gradually, the familiar cold sensation settled in his chest, rhythmic and soothing. It felt as if he couldn’t breathe before, but now he could withstand anything. Any chill or fatigue, exhaustion or injury. He didn’t feel hunger or aches. He felt nothing but power.

Yes, this was normal. Ignoring the strange rise of anger from his death magic, Cyrus knelt to the ground and dug through snow and rock. He didn’t make much headway, but it was enough. He pressed his fingers into the cold ground and closed his eyes, summoning his heat. Rock melted from underneath him, giving way to his pressure until a small cavity formed underneath him. He waved a hand, and his black flame filled the crevice. He sat back to admire his craft. The flame continued to burn, as only death magic could. It wouldn’t extinguish until Cyrus pulled it back into himself.

He turned to face Prue, who was watching him with an odd, wary expression. “What?” he asked.

“I—Nothing.” Prue looked away quickly, but not before he spotted fear flickering in her eyes.

Cyrus stood to face her fully. “You—Did you think I would attack you?”

“Wouldn’t be the first time,” she said stiffly.

Cyrus groaned. “If I hadn’t burned your foot, the death shadows would’ve consumed you.”

“I know, I know.” She waved an apologetic hand at him. “I’m sorry. I’m just exhausted, that’s all. I’ll, uh, work on creating a sleeping space for us.”

Cyrus’s body instantly warmed at the thought of sleeping next to her, but he shoved the feeling down, angry with himself for letting this witch affect him so. Why was he becoming so soft around her? It was ridiculous.

Instead of watching Prue, he knelt by the fire to warm his hands and face. From the corner of his eye, he watched Prue weave her hands through the air. Vines snaked toward them, crisscrossing to weave a net that thickened with each twist. Eventually, the pattern of foliage grew so thick that there were no gaps, and now it resembled a massive quilt. It would be prickly, yes, but it would certainly block out the cold.

Cyrus thought she was finished, but then she angled her arm toward the cave opening, and a curtain of vines formed, blocking out the wind. The area felt significantly warmer after that.

When Prue was finished, she deflated, her shoulders hunching over as her frame sagged. Cyrus resisted the urge to rush over and catch her before she collapsed. Thankfully, she only teetered for a moment before regaining her balance. She removed her hat and scarf and gestured feebly toward the vines.

“Well, hop in,” she said in a tired voice.

“With you?” Cyrus asked hesitantly, his insides squirming at the thought.

“Yes. Body heat will keep us warm.” Now she was removing her shawl.

Cyrus went perfectly still. “Why are you undressing?”

“My clothes are wet from the snow. I’d like them to be dry by morning. Besides, we’ll share more body heat if we’re naked.”

Naked. Dear gods.

Prue must have noticed his stricken expression because she halted, her mouth quirking upward in a smirk. “Unless . . . that makes you uncomfortable, for whatever reason.” Her eyes glinted with amusement. “I mean, I know I’m no demon or anything.”

Anger flushed in his cheeks. “I’m acquainted with the bodies of nude women.” He had no idea why he said it, but he suddenly felt defensive.

Prue’s eyebrows lifted. “Are you, now?”

Cyrus clenched his teeth. “I’m not uncomfortable. You are right; it is the best way for us to keep warm.”

“All right then.” She still smirked at him.

Growling, Cyrus stood and practically ripped off his coat and shirt. Shivers quickly overcame him as he stepped out of his trousers. Prue was already completely undressed, shift and all. Cyrus’s mouth turned dry at the expanse of her warm brown skin before she disappeared under the blanket of ivy.

Cyrus approached her warily. “Is it thorny?”

“Merciful Goddess, are you afraid of plants? It’s Algerian ivy. Harmless.” Her teeth chattered even as she taunted him.

Cyrus scoffed before joining her under the earthen covers. To his surprise, it wasn’t as prickly as he feared. It wasn’t soft, but it was sufficient. He couldn’t feel the wind against his skin anymore, but he still shivered uncontrollably.

“Here.” Prue scooted closer to him until her chest was pressed against his arm. He could feel the rise of her breast and the brush of her nipples against him.

Gods above . . .

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