Page 69 of Ivy & Bone

So close, she told herself. So close to getting Mona back. Just find the gate, cross over, and locate her soul. That’s all that matters.

Prue led him inside the cozy inn at the end of the lane, relishing in the warmth that soothed her numb fingers and toes upon entering. A small bell signaled their arrival, and a frail old woman with spectacles hurried forward to greet them.

“Welcome, travelers!” she said with a jovial smile, taking their hats and scarves.

“Thank you,” Prue said. “My husband and I would like a room for the night.”

“Of course!” The woman beamed, her brows furrowing as she took in Cyrus’s strange tattoos and hair, but she quickly masked her alarm. “Give me one moment and I’ll fetch your key.” After draping their hats and scarves over the coat rack, she bustled away.

Cyrus nudged Prue’s shoulder. “You didn’t flinch that time. When you told her we were married.”

“The lie gets easier to tell every time.” Prue wouldn’t meet his gaze.

“It’s not a lie.”

“It is to me.”

She felt his gaze on her, pinning her in place. Her pulse thrummed from the intensity of it, but she refused to look at him.

The woman soon returned with a large, brass key, informing them it unlocked room seventeen. Prue and Cyrus thanked her before climbing the stairs.

Once they entered the room, the first thing Prue did was relieve herself in the chamber pot, not even caring that Cyrus witnessed it. She’d suppressed the need all day and couldn’t hold it in any longer. Cyrus paid a servant to bring a meal up for them, and Prue didn’t object; she was practically starving. In just a few minutes, the staff brought up a roast chicken, spiced vegetables, half a loaf of bread, and a bottle of wine. Prue’s mouth watered at the sight, but as soon as the servants disappeared, she forced herself to confront Cyrus.

No more avoiding the subject.

She squared her shoulders and said firmly. “We need to have sex.”

Cyrus, who had been sniffing the food before them, suddenly went still. After a moment, he looked at her with an arched eyebrow. “I beg your pardon?”

“The confrontation with your brother proved we can’t afford to wait any longer. We need to consummate this marriage to make us both more powerful. If he finds us—”

“He won’t.”

“If he does, I don’t want to be outmatched again. Do you?”

Cyrus’s nostrils flared, his silver eyes flashing.

Prue crossed her arms, challenging him with a stare. “Unless there’s some other reason you don’t want to?”

Cyrus’s gaze darkened. “Like what?”

Prue snorted. “Well, I’m not a demon. Maybe I’m not fit to your taste.”

Cyrus scowled. “I would prefer a demon.”

Prue tried to ignore the ache in her chest at hearing those words. “Are you serious? The lack of tail and forked tongue is off-putting to you?”

“So, you would really let me make love you? Me, a prince of Hell?”

Prue nodded. “It would mean nothing, Cyrus.”

“Is that so?”

“Yes.”

He scoffed. “And you assume I would be so willing? Do you honestly think I’d sully myself with the likes of witches?” He spat the last word.

Prue barely concealed her flinch. She forced herself to laugh. “Witches? Really? That’s where you draw the line? Not pus-filled three-headed clawed creatures from Hell?” She raised her eyebrows. “I don’t believe you.”

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