Page 19 of Salt & Blood (Ivy & Bone #4)

ABSORBED

CYRUS

Cyrus had only just awoken when Prue burst into his chambers, panting as if she’d sprinted through the entire palace. She slammed the door shut and bolted it behind her, then pressed a hand to her forehead.

Cyrus froze in the middle of pulling on his shirt, one arm through the sleeve as he looked at his wife in alarm and panic. “What is it? What’s happened?”

Prue wiped sweat from her brow and leaned her head against the door. Only then, with her neck arched, did Cyrus notice the faint bruising around her throat.

Rage coursed through him, hot and merciless, blinding him and consuming him entirely. A low growl escaped him, and he stifled the urge to smash the furniture in the room, knowing his wife needed him in this moment. He drew closer to her, teeth bared, and said in a low voice, “Prue. Who did this? Who touched you?”

Prue’s eyes fluttered open and fixed on Cyrus. Slowly, she shook her head. “Cyrus, don’t. He’ll kill you.”

“Who. Did. This.”

Prue’s face crumpled, and Cyrus watched as her resolve weakened. He stepped toward her, closing the distance between them. Cupping her face in his hands, he forced her to meet his gaze. Terror and despair burned in her eyes. Never before had he seen her so helpless. So afraid. It filled him with a mixture of devastation and fury.

Someone had broken her. And Cyrus would ensure they paid for it.

“Tell me what happened.” His voice was gentle because he knew she needed that side of him right now. Not the monstrous, vengeful side, but the side that showed compassion and understanding toward her.

A tear streaked down her face, and Cyrus brushed it away with his thumb. Her lower lip wobbled, and, after a moment, she relented.

“Hyperion,” she whispered. “He—He was draining my power. Cyrus, it was like he was… eating it.” She shuddered, her face twisting into a disgusted grimace. “My earth magic could do nothing against him. It only fueled him.”

Cyrus stared hard at the mahogany door behind her, his gaze unfocused as he tried to recall what he knew about the Titans. He had assumed allowing Hyperion entry into the Underworld had been safe. Nothing he’d read indicated the Titan had any siphoning powers. Was it possible he picked it up in Tartarus? Would the wards even allow a power like that to develop?

“Cyrus,” Prue said, her voice gaining strength. “If he has weakened me, I don’t think I can face Apollo when he challenges me. I won’t be strong enough. I—I think that’s Apollo’s plan. To drain me completely so I can’t fight.”

Cyrus’s jaw flexed as his mind worked furiously to put the pieces together. After a moment, he shook his head slowly. “No. He wants to steal your power. With Gaia gone, you can no longer be used as leverage. You have no reason to help him rebuild the realm. But if Hyperion can steal your power, he can use it to rebuild in your place. Which means Apollo will be free to kill you.”

Prue’s face paled. It was clear she hadn’t considered this. “Oh, Goddess. What can we do?”

The anger rising in Cyrus’s chest reached boiling point. He took a shaky breath before stroking his fingers gently along Prue’s cheeks, traveling lower until he brushed the bruising of her neck. Red crept into his vision, and he wanted to roar with rage, to drive his fist into the wall.

“I’m going to see Apollo,” he bit out, unable to keep his voice from quivering with rage.

Prue’s eyes flared wide. “Cyrus, you can’t! You have to keep up the ruse. He has to believe you’re on his side.”

“He knows I’m not on his side,” Cyrus sneered. “Otherwise he wouldn’t have done this. Part of our agreement was that he wouldn’t hurt you. And he’s broken that.”

Cyrus reached for the door handle but Prue stilled his hand, her eyes full of worry. “Cyrus, he could kill you,” she breathed.

“He won’t. He still needs me.” But Cyrus wasn’t sure how much he believed this anymore. He had shown Apollo that Lagos had the power to unlock Tartarus. All Apollo had to do was coerce the demon, and he could unleash the rest of the Titans.

“I cannot do nothing , Prue,” he said. “He has made a threat against you, and I have to do something. If anything, I have to know what he is planning next. Let me confront him. Perhaps I can… convince him to leave you alone.”

Prue arched an eyebrow, her expression full of doubt. Cyrus almost smiled, but the fury brewing inside him was too potent for amusement right now.

“There’s something else,” Prue said, her face sobering. “I found the Book of Eyes.”

Cyrus’s blood ran cold, and his pulse quickened. The Book of Eyes. The grimoire that had bound him to the mortal realm. The very book that had granted him enough power to overthrow Aidoneus and take the throne. His throat went dry, and he wasn’t certain if he should feel excitement or dread.

“Lagos and I think it returned because your powers are gone,” Prue went on. “Do you think it’s possible the book can give you your magic back?”

Cyrus shook his head. “I don’t want it to.”

Prue’s head reared back, her mouth falling open. “You—You don’t?”

“No. Not like that. The way that book tethered me… It was too restrictive. It held too much power over me. I would rather have no powers at all than to be controlled by it.” The conviction with which he spoke surprised even himself. He didn’t realize how true his words were until he uttered them. Yes, the book had granted him power. But it had also pulled him to the mortal realm against his will, forcing him to leave the Underworld when it was in danger. He had no choice in the matter.

And what if Apollo got his hands on the book? If Cyrus’s magic was linked to it, would that mean the sun god would be able to control him ? He couldn’t risk that.

“Leave the Book of Eyes,” Cyrus murmured, resting his thumb underneath her chin. “Let Apollo toy with it. If the book steals his magic or wrestles control from him, then all the better. But I don’t want anything to do with that grimoire. Not anymore.”

Prue leaned in and kissed him, her mouth salty with tears, but smooth and warm and soft. He captured her lips again and again. His movements were fervent and desperate until he was pinning her against the door, his chest aligned with hers. Her arms wound around him, tangling in his black hair, dragging him ever closer. His tongue twined with hers, and he angled his head to ravish her fully. She uttered a soft sigh in his mouth, and he swallowed it hungrily. An aching, urgent part of him wanted to hike up her skirts and thrust into her this very moment, just to prove to himself that she was alive, she was safe, and she was well. The panic coursing through him was so volatile, so frantic that he needed to do something to quell it. He needed to prove to himself that Prue wasn’t in danger. He wasn’t going to lose her again.

He caught her lower lip between his teeth, and her hips rolled against him in response, grinding directly into his arousal. He groaned, the sound low in his throat, and pulled away before this woman completely undid him.

“You don’t have to see Apollo right now,” she said breathlessly, her mouth pink from their passionate kisses. “There is time.”

He leaned in, brushing his nose against hers. “I know,” he whispered. “Believe me, there is nothing I want more than to take you to that bed, rip off your clothes, and thrust so deeply into you that you forget your own name.”

She shuddered, her eyes closing and her lips parting. “Then do it,” she challenged.

Cyrus bit back a growl and kissed her again, forceful and bruising, his tongue plunging between her lips to taste her thoroughly. She gripped his shoulders tightly, her body writhing against his in silent demand.

When he broke away, he pressed his forehead to hers, struggling to catch his breath. “I need to do this, Prue. In my former life, I stood by while others threatened my kingdom. I did nothing for my people. I have to be different, even if I am weaker. At the very least, I must tell him our deal is off. I will not help him anymore.”

Prue searched his eyes. What she was looking for, Cyrus didn’t know. But after a moment, she nodded, and Cyrus stood back to free her from the door he’d pinned her against. She stepped aside, and Cyrus opened the door.

“Be careful,” Prue said.

“Don’t leave this room,” he warned her. “Lock the door when I leave.” A lock wouldn’t do much good against Apollo’s magic, but hopefully, Cyrus’s guest chambers would be the last place he’d look for her.

He strode into the hallway, the energy flowing within him reaching an unbearable intensity. He found himself running, breaking into a sprint, desperate to work off this feeling of frustration and helplessness.

His wife had been threatened. Choked. Almost killed. He wouldn’t stand by and do nothing.

He bolted down the hall and flew down the stairs, knowing Apollo would be in the throne room. That bastard wouldn’t be able to resist the opportunity to gloat. He had to be expecting Cyrus. Apollo was too smart not to.

Cyrus burst into the throne room, and, sure enough, Apollo was lounging casually in the throne, sipping that damned Elysium wine. There was only one throne in the room now; at some point, Apollo must have had the other one removed.

Cyrus bared his teeth, his hands forming fists at his sides. With lethal calm, he moved toward Apollo, who watched him with a lazy smile.

“Nephew,” Apollo said, lifting his chin. “So good to see you.”

“Spare me your bullshit,” Cyrus spat. “You swore you wouldn’t harm Prue.”

“Ah.” Apollo sat forward, setting his glass down on the floor before bracing his arms on his knees. “So you do care. That was a test, nephew. A test you failed.”

“This wasn’t part of our agreement,” Cyrus snarled. “I’m sending Hyperion back.”

Apollo’s eyes glinted with amusement. “I’d like to see you try to overpower that beast of a Titan. He is stronger than he looks. A fact I’m sure your wife is well acquainted with by now.”

Cyrus unleashed a roar of rage and lunged, his fingers closing around Apollo’s throat. With strength he didn’t know he had, he lifted the sun god in the air and slammed him against the wall behind the throne. Apollo gagged and struggled against his grip, his eyes bulging and his face turning red. He clawed at Cyrus’s hand, but Cyrus held firm, his grip unrelenting. Heat and power coursed through his blood, making him feel powerful for the first time since he’d woken up human.

“You will not touch her,” Cyrus hissed. “Hyperion will not touch her. If either of you so much as looks at her again, I will tear off your balls and shove them down your throats.”

Apollo’s legs flailed as he continued to struggle, his face now turning purple. Vaguely, Cyrus wondered why the sun god didn’t blast him with his magic, but he didn’t care. The anger flowing through him was so potent, so uncontrollable, that he felt he could take on anything and anyone. He could even take on this sorry excuse for a god.

But then Cyrus’s hands began to glow. Warmth pressed into his palm, burning hotter and hotter until smoke wafted from Apollo’s neck, filling the air with the putrid smell of scorched flesh.

Cyrus’s eyes widened, and he immediately dropped Apollo, letting him crumple to the floor. The sun god fell on all fours, choking and wheezing.

Cyrus raised his hands, which were shaking, his mouth falling open in shock. Brilliant light shone from his fingertips, a mixture of gold and amber hues like the sun.

It was sun magic. Somehow, he had absorbed Apollo’s power.