Page 49 of Ivy & Bone

“Maybe you should’ve stayed next to me. You know, for body heat.” She heard the amusement and smugness in his voice.

Gritting her teeth, Prue snatched her dress before tugging it on and wrestling with the buttons. “I’d rather not.”

Leaves shifted as Cyrus stood. The back of her neck prickled from the intensity of his stare, but she took her time fastening her buttons and continued to avoid his gaze.

At long last, he spoke. “Did I do something to offend you?”

Prue winced, grateful she had her back to him so he couldn’t see her expression. “Not at all.”

“Then, why won’t you look at me?”

Prue sighed, finally done dressing. With no more excuses to avoid him, she turned to face him, eyebrows lifted. She raised her arms. “There. Happy?”

Cyrus’s eyes narrowed as he scrutinized her. She tried not to let her gaze wander to the rippling muscles along his torso and arms or the stiff part of him that she longed to run her hands over.

Stop it, Prue, she ordered.

“You are angry,” Cyrus observed, still watching her. Assessing her. She didn’t like the way he looked at her. She felt if he stared long enough, he would unravel her soul piece by piece.

“I’m not,” she insisted.

Cyrus cocked his head. “Last night . . . Did it not please you?”

“No. Yes. I—” She groaned and ran her hands through her tangled hair. “It was a mistake. It shouldn’t have happened.”

Cyrus crossed his arms, his muscles bulging. “And why not? We are married.”

“That was also a mistake.” She shot him a dark look.

“Why?”

“Do I really need to explain this to you?”

“Yes,” he said insistently. “Because as far as I’m concerned, we are both attracted to each other. We engaged in passionate intercourse that left us both satisfied. And, if we were to properly consummate, we would both benefit from it. So, what’s the problem?”

Prue’s nostrils flared as she took a steadying breath. The space between them was tense and stifling, and she couldn’t suppress the desperate urge to flee.

She had to sever this . . . thing between them. Before it grew into something neither of them could contain.

She had to run, to end this. She had no desire to be attached to anyone, especially the god of the dead.

Cyrus might not be able to lie—but she could.

“The problem is, I don’t like you,” Prue said through clenched teeth. “You’re evil incarnate. You’re the devil. Do you honestly think I want to be married to you? We’re only traveling together so I can send you back home and life can go back to normal. Last night was a moment of weakness. I was cold and lonely and pretended that you were a normal man. But we both know you aren’t. I’m on a mission to bring back my sister. That is the most important thing, and the only reason I haven’t run as far away from you as possible. I can’t afford distractions, especially with vile monsters like you.”

Agony flared in his eyes, so raw and vulnerable that it made her heart twist. She’d never seen such fragility in his expression. He’d always been so hardened and calloused, impervious to emotion and weakness. But here he was, laid bare before her.

She was hurting him.

She couldn’t take it anymore. Her throat burning, she grabbed her shawl and scarf and fled from the cave, ignoring the way his anguished expression lingered in her mind.

Prue stood outside the cave, shivering in the falling snow as she waited for Cyrus to dress and emerge. A few minutes later, she sensed his approach and turned to find him fully dressed, even wearing the cap with holes for his horns. He handed her the hat she’d forgotten, and she took it wordlessly, offering a nod of thanks before donning it.

“Ready?” she asked.

“Ready.” He wore his mask again, the cool and calculated expression of apathy and disdain. Her chest tightened at the sight of it. It seemed like all the progress they’d made, all they’d shared together, had vanished, and they were back to that first moment when she’d summoned him.

But perhaps that was for the best.

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