Page 13 of Salt & Blood (Ivy & Bone #4)

CONVINCING

CYRUS

Prue’s expression of betrayal and heartbreak flashed across Cyrus’s mind as he sat in his chambers, sipping the despicable Elysium wine Apollo had given him.

He couldn’t shake that sight from his thoughts. It was the ultimate treachery, to turn against his wife and side with her enemy—her wretched father who had caused her family so much suffering.

He closed his eyes, allowing the sickeningly sweet nectar to slide down his throat with another gulp. His skull throbbed from the strain of having to play his role for Apollo so perfectly.

He needed to convince Apollo to trust him. The only way to do that had been to allow Hyperion to enter his palace.

Hyperion had been the least dangerous of the Titans, though he was still lethal in his own way. It was just much more subtle. He seemed the best option out of all the Titans to bring back.

But first, Cyrus had needed to convince Lagos to break open Tartarus for him to retrieve Hyperion. Only an overseer of Tartarus had access, and Cyrus, in his human form, no longer had the power to do it himself.

“You wish for me to bring a Titan here?” Lagos had asked, his voice strangely calm. “Why?”

“Apollo will find a way,” Cyrus had said, sitting forward in his chair and rubbing his temples with his fingers. “With or without our help, he’ll do it somehow. You know he will.”

“That’s not a good enough reason.”

Cyrus sighed, looking up at Lagos, who stood in front of him, arms folded over his chest, his animal eyes betraying no emotion.

“I need Apollo to trust me,” Cyrus whispered. “And this is the only way.”

“You need to tell Prue.”

“I can’t,” Cyrus said through gritted teeth. “Apollo loves to gloat. And he will lord this over her once she finds out. Prue’s emotions are so easy to read. If she knows where my true allegiance lies, Apollo will be able to read it on her face. Her surprise, her shock, will not be convincing enough for him.”

Lagos was silent, his face stoic as ever. He was the complete opposite of Prue. He had a bull’s head, which made him impossible to read. He simply blinked once at Cyrus.

“I serve Prue,” Lagos said slowly. “If I do this, I will be betraying her trust.”

“You are the only overseer left,” Cyrus said, his voice on the verge of pleading. “You are the only one who can do this. And I would much prefer you do it than some Elysium lackey of Apollo’s.”

Lagos released a low huff of disapproval, and Cyrus knew the demon was envisioning some fool from Elysium tampering with the magic of the Underworld and causing even more problems with their ignorance.

“What is your plan?” Lagos asked quietly. “How do you intend to betray Apollo?”

“Apollo has promised me a way to get my magic back.”

Lagos snorted. “And you believe him?”

“No,” Cyrus said at once, although that wasn’t entirely true. “But if there is a way, only someone like Apollo would be able to find it.”

“So, that’s your plan? Trust this god, who lies to everyone, that he will grant you your powers back, making you strong enough to defeat him?” Doubt filled Lagos’s voice.

Cyrus resisted the urge to cringe. Gods, when he put it like that, it did seem like a stupid plan. “It’s not the only reason I’m doing this.”

“Oh, good. Because for a moment there, I was worried you were trying to convince me to betray Prue all so you could get your magic back.”

Cyrus winced. He was a horrible, terrible person. He knew this. But there were sound reasons for his plan. He needed Lagos to see that. “If Apollo trusts me, he will tell me more of his plan. For instance, I know he intends to eventually release all of the Titans.”

Lagos grew very still. “Are you serious?”

“Yes. He thinks it’s the only way to stop Pandora’s magic.”

Lagos shook his head. “That is an awful idea.”

“I agree. But if we unleash just one Titan, and Apollo trusts me, then perhaps he will tell me how he intends to release the others. If I refuse to help him, he’ll never tell me anything.”

“Why does he need you to release one Titan if he has a plan to release them all?”

“I don’t think he can release them all on his own. He needs a stronger magic. A more powerful magic. I have to figure out what that is and how he is accessing it. I have a feeling it involves Titan magic. Perhaps with one Titan free, Apollo will use that Titan’s magic to craft a spell that will grant him the ability to unleash them all.”

Lagos nodded slowly. “And if Apollo can do that with Titan magic, then perhaps you and Prue can utilize such magic as well.”

“Exactly. With that amount of power, we could stop Apollo. We could banish him from the realm.”

Lagos sighed. “Very well. I will help you.”

Relief surged in Cyrus’s chest. “Thank you, Lagos.”

“On one condition.”

Cyrus froze, dread coiling in his gut. “What?”

“As soon as Apollo has finished gloating , you tell Prue everything.”

Cyrus’s heart sank into his stomach. Oh, gods. That was the last thing he wanted. Prue would be so angry and hurt, and to confront her after betraying her… Would she even believe him?

When Lagos blinked expectantly, Cyrus swallowed hard, then nodded. “All right. I agree.”

So here Cyrus sat, drinking the disgusting wine and struggling to gather the courage to seek out Prue and explain everything. She deserved the truth. And he could alleviate her suffering by telling her of his plan. Perhaps it would lessen the blow of his treachery.

And Gaia had left… Cyrus hadn’t been expecting that. Now, Prue was truly alone. She needed him more than ever.

With a groan, Cyrus climbed to his feet, his head buzzing from the alcohol in his system. Gods, his pathetic human form was so weak. He used to be able to drink several glasses of wine before feeling its effects. Now, after only two, he was already muddled.

He rubbed a hand down his face and strode to the door. Before he could open it, a heavy pounding echoed from the other side.

Cyrus straightened, his heart hammering painfully in his chest. With a deep breath, he opened the door and found his wife on the other side, eyes blazing. Her face was red and puffy from crying, but pure hatred burned in her lavender eyes.

“We need to talk,” she bit out.

Shit. Cyrus was too late. There would be no convincing her now.

Wordlessly, he stood to the side to let her in. She stormed past him, and Cyrus closed and locked the door before turning to face her. Her fists were clenched at her sides, her hair even wilder than normal. Her eyes were so wide and feral that Cyrus expected her to lunge at him at any moment, like a deranged animal.

Prue took several shaky breaths before she spoke, her voice low and menacing. “How dare you.”

“Prue, just let me explain,” Cyrus began, palms out as he tried to appease her.

Her nostrils flared. “I gave you an out! If you wanted to be rid of me, you could have left this realm. You didn’t have to run off to Apollo to stab me in the back!”

“Prue—”

“Are you—Are you punishing me ?” she cried, spreading her arms. “Is that what this is? You still blame me for that spell that turned you human?”

“Gods, Prue, no! I was?—”

“Well, congratulations.” Prue’s voice cracked, and tears brimmed in her eyes. The sight nearly undid Cyrus completely. “You’ve officially broken me. I’m not strong enough to face you and Apollo. Even with my mother here, I didn’t think I could do it. But now? I?—”

Cyrus surged toward her, unable to help himself. She was so shattered, so devastated, that he couldn’t take it anymore. He brought his hands to her face, cradling her cheeks, and drew her mouth to his.

She stiffened, uttering a small gasp of surprise as their lips met. The kiss was soft and pleading at first, as if Cyrus were asking a question. His lips moved gently over hers, capturing her mouth over and over with deliberate slowness.

He dragged his fingertips down her cheeks, his touches tender and delicate. Her form wilted, and she made a sound that was a cross between a sigh and a sob.

Cyrus pulled away to look at her, and she was weeping freely. “What—What was that?” she asked in a strained voice.

“That was my answer.” Cyrus’s voice was low. “I choose you, Prue.”

She shook her head, still crying softly. “I don’t understand. You chose Apollo .”

“It’s a game, Prue. I’m playing the game the only way I know how. I’m weak and powerless, so I needed an edge. Without it, Apollo would have killed me easily. But now, I can get close to him and figure out his plan. I can feed you all the information I learn from him. I’m on your side, Prue.”

She shook her head, biting her lip. “How am I supposed to believe you? Just days ago, you were yelling in my face about how much you despised me.”

Cyrus’s chest constricted at her words, because she was right. He had made awful choices lately. He was weak and angry and utterly foolish. He blinked rapidly as heat burned behind his eyes. “I’m so sorry, Prue.” He couldn’t stop his voice from breaking. “I’m so terribly sorry. As soon as I said those things, I wanted to take them back. I just—I couldn’t rein in my emotions. They are so overwhelming, and my need for power is so strong, that… Gods above, Prue. You don’t know how much I wish I could change it. How much I wish I could erase all the pain I’ve caused you. I was weak. And I will spend every day of the rest of my pitiful existence proving to you how much you mean to me.”

Prue’s brows knitted together as if she were still confused by his words. She still believed he hated her. She believed this was the act. Not what she had seen with Apollo.

She truly thought he was despicable enough to betray her.

And that broke him more than anything else.

At a loss for words, Cyrus gripped her waist and kissed her again, this time with more force. His mouth claimed hers with bruising intensity, his tongue gliding between her lips and colliding with hers. She moaned in his mouth, her hands gripping his shoulders to bring him closer. He tasted her thoroughly, again and again, willing her to believe him, if not with words, then with actions.

He walked her backward until she was pinned to the wall, his hips aligned with hers. She gasped, arching against him, her head thrown back as he ran his tongue along the column of her throat. Gods above, she tasted divine. Her scent, her skin, was so much sweeter than he remembered. He thought he could resist her. He thought that, for the good of his kingdom, he could refuse her touch. But this right here was like a starving man given a feast. He was dying of thirst, and this was a bottomless well for him to drink from.

He groaned in part agony part satisfaction as her hips ground against him, rubbing directly along his hardened length. His skin burned from her touch, his blood boiling with an intensity he’d never known before. Ever since he’d awoken as a human, he had loathed himself for how weak and pitiful he was. But this… He could feel everything so acutely. Each sensation rippled over him with more force and fervor than he could ever imagine.

He couldn’t help himself from whispering her name, dragging his hand through her soft curls. He wanted to worship her body, to show her just how devoted he was. Each touch, each movement sent fire coursing through him, and gods, it was the most delicious and exhilarating feeling.

Prue was panting, her hips moving, her lips parted as she stared at him with a dark and heated look that he knew too well.

“I am yours,” Cyrus rasped. His body was so consumed by her that he almost couldn’t find his voice at all. But he needed her to know. He needed her to understand. “I am yours , Prue.”

Her cheeks flushed, her eyelashes fluttering as her hands came around his neck to pull him to her again. She kissed him violently, teeth and tongue scraping, devouring him completely.

He growled in her mouth, hoisting her up until her skirts came up and her legs wrapped around him. He was weak—much weaker than before—but he could still carry her. His hands gripped her thighs, holding her against him as he brought her to the bed and lay her before him.

He wanted her naked, but the growing need pulsing through him demanded he take her like this. There wasn’t time to remove all the layers of clothing. He needed her now.

Her dress was already bunched up well past her thighs, revealing the tanned skin of her legs. His fingers danced up and down those legs, and her back arched as she sighed with contentment. He worked the fabric up higher until his thumb skirted over her slick center, and she cried out.

Gods, she was pure perfection. How had he denied her before? How had he not seen how perfect this goddess was?

In this moment, power didn’t matter at all. As he removed his trousers, watching as Prue’s eyes dipped to his firm arousal, he realized there had never been power between them when their bodies tangled together. He hovered over her, his black hair forming a curtain over them as he brought his mouth to hers in a long and slow kiss, running his tongue along the seam of her lips. Her tongue met his, coaxing him forward until he plunged deeper into her throat, tasting as much of her as she could.

Her hand gripped his arousal firmly, and he jerked wildly with a strangled gasp.

“You are mine,” she whispered. “Only mine.”

“Only yours,” he echoed in a strained voice.

She guided him closer, and he felt the heat of her surround him when he entered her slowly. He slid in, deeper and deeper, letting her fit around him so perfectly, so fully, that he couldn’t see straight. Pure pleasure rocketed through him like a violent tidal wave, and he let it overtake him, let it drown him completely.

“Oh, gods, Prue ,” he groaned when he was completely inside her. She rocked her hips, and he met her movement with a thrust of his own.

Here and now, power and magic did not matter. He lost himself in her and the feel of her body. Human or not, god or not, he was still hers, and she was his. When he was with her like this, everything else fell away. Politics, power struggles, court responsibilities, looming threats… There was nothing but Prue and Cyrus.

He gripped her thighs, shifting his angle so he could drive even deeper inside her. She cried out, her arms around him, fingernails dragging along his back. Sweat trickled down Cyrus’s face and neck as he pushed into her again and again. Her legs wrapped tightly around him, her heels digging into him. His movements became more wild, more unhinged as feral sounds escaped him. She met his thrusts with her own, hips bucking, making the bed frame rattle.

“Cyrus,” she gasped. “ Cyrus. ”

He leaned in and captured her plea with his lips, drinking in her frantic breaths. He caught her lower lip between his teeth and tugged. A soft whimper escaped her. Her hands trembled as she ran them through his hair.

Tension built and coiled inside him, driving him closer and closer to that edge. He moved faster, harder, pounding with furious intensity, eliciting all manner of desperate sounds from her. His tongue met her throat, tasting the sweat on her. His teeth clamped down on the small space where her neck met her shoulder, and he bit down hard.

Her body quivered as release exploded within her. He felt her spasm around him, and it sent him over the edge with her. He gave one more powerful thrust as he spilled inside her. He ground out her name again as he came undone inside her, letting himself fill her, savoring the way their bodies fit perfectly together as she met his need with her own.

“My wife,” he whispered, his body spent and his breaths still hard and fast. “My queen.”

Her hands came around the back of his neck as she gazed up at him, her eyes still wild but full of bliss. She was satisfied. He had satisfied her completely.

Even as a human. A mortal. Someone weaker than she was. He had elicited those sounds, that pleasure from her.

“I am yours,” she murmured, tracing her hand down his cheek. “No matter who you are. Or what you are. I am yours, Cyrus. Always.”

He kissed her again, and she met his mouth eagerly as if they were making up for lost time, kissing and touching for all those moments when they had been apart.

Prue pushed against him and rolled until she was on top of him. Cyrus leaned his head back, still gasping for breath, and managed a weary chuckle.

“I—I can’t,” he groaned. “You’ve exhausted me.”

Prue only smiled, tugging at the sleeves of her dress. When she lifted the fabric over her head, leaving her in nothing but her thin shift, Cyrus felt his mouth go dry.

“Prue—” he began, but she cut him off with another kiss.

“Let me do the work this time,” she breathed before kissing him again. “I just want to be naked with my husband. Is that all right?”

He found himself nodding as she undid the strings of her shift before pulling it off and tossing it to the floor.

She was bare before him, and he let his gaze rove slowly over her tanned shoulders, her perfect breasts, her smooth stomach. She was utter perfection.

“Gods, you are a masterpiece,” he said softly.

Her cheeks flushed again. “As are you, husband.”

She kissed her way down his throat, then worked on unbuttoning his tunic. He resisted the urge to recoil, to hide himself and his pale expanse of unmarked skin. She had always liked his tattoos. Would seeing him now without them only remind her of how different he was?

But Prue didn’t react when she opened his shirt and tugged it free before discarding it on the floor. She withdrew from him, lifting her hips so their bodies were no longer connected, and he immediately mourned that loss. But then she resumed her mouth’s exploration of his body, dragging her lips down his chest and abdomen. He jerked when she hovered just above his arousal, which was still coated in his seed.

Her tongue met his length, tasting him thoroughly, and he gasped, hips jerking. He wasn’t hard again, but he could still feel her lips and tongue, the minute sensation quivering over him until he shuddered.

“Gods, Prue,” he groaned.

Prue smiled before taking him completely in her mouth.

And he let her. For hours, he let her touch him, kiss him, lick him anywhere she pleased. Because he belonged only to her. Even when his body could do no more, she continued to worship him as he had her. And when his goddess was finally spent, they lay tangled up in the sheets, legs twisting together as they held one another, rekindling what had been lost between them.

And not once did he think of his lost magic or his god blood. Not once did he regret being alive. Because nothing could compare to the bliss of holding Prue in his arms, of binding their bodies together.

She was his. And he was hers.

And that magic was more powerful than anything else in all the realms.