Page 33 of Thorn & Ash

Prue’s eyes narrowed slightly, as if she were trying to detect a lie from him.

“It’s me, Prue,” he said, desperate for her to believe him.

Her jaw went rigid. To his utter surprise and indignation, she slapped him across the face. His head swiveled from the force of the blow, his cheek burning. Nostrils flared, he bared his teeth at her. “What was that for?”

“For giving up!” she cried. “How often have you boasted of your power and greatness to me, stressing that you were a god and I was insignificant? And yet, when your darkness rises and tries to claim you, you just sat by and let it take you. You didn’t fight!”

Anger reared inside him. “How dare you? You have no idea what I’ve endured, trying to overcome this and get back to you!”

“I know you’re stronger than this, Cyrus! When have you ever surrendered to an enemy? When have you ever given up? Why can’t you fight this?”

“I’m trying!” Cyrus roared, now on his feet, his arms spread wide. The rage bled through all the fog in his mind, and in this moment, he was here. He was in control. Kronos had vanished.

But he was too incensed to notice. All he could think of was how unfair Prue’s condemnation was. Shouldn’t she be relieved to finally face him? The real him?

“He has shut me out, Prue,” Cyrus went on through gritted teeth. “He’s too powerful. I’ve let him become too powerful. It was through my own neglect that this happened.”

“So that’s it,” Prue said coldly. “Your own self-loathing is holding you back. Your guilt. Because you let this happen, because it’s your fault, you think it’s only fair for you to lie down and let him take over you. Is that right?”

“That’s not what I said,” Cyrus barked.

“Then why?” Prue argued. “Why aren’t you fighting? For you, for me, for us? For this realm? Isn’t any of that worth it?”

“Of course it is!” Cyrus shouted. “Don’t you think I would give up anything—anything—to be with you? I love you, Prue! And I am doing my damndest to overcome this so I can crown you as my queen!”

A deep, bone-shattering sorrow filled her eyes as she shook her head slowly. “No, Cyrus. I don’t know what you would give up for me. Because you have always craved power. If it were between me and your magic, I truly don’t know which you would choose.”

Cyrus’s head reared back, stung by this. How could she say that?

But as he considered her words, how could she not? He had always chosen power over all else. It was the most important thing to him. It had been for a long time.

Until now.

Cyrus took her shoulders, and Prue tensed, her ire returning. “You are more important,” he said, his voice a low growl. “Always, Prue.”

Always.

That word meant so much between them. He remembered uttering it to her when she seemed so surprised he would use his soul magic on her to heal her.

Soul magic. The thought sent a spike of realization through him. He had been trying to fight off Kronos with his own death magic, but Kronos was death magic.

One thing he hadn’t tried was summoning the power of the gods. The power ingrained in his body and blood; the power he was born with. Because that particular magic came at a price; it would mean giving up part of his own soul. Giving up his immortality. If he used it too much, he would become mortal. His magic would dry up and leave him nothing more than a weak human.

But he would do it for Prue.

Prue tried to shove his chest, to push him away from her, but Cyrus’s grip on her shoulders was too strong. Tears filled her eyes. “Then, why won’t you fight?” she hissed, her voice wavering. “I need you, Cyrus, and you won’t fight! Come back to me!”

Cyrus kissed her. He didn’t know what possessed him to do it, but the sight of her so impassioned and blazing with intensity made the longing course through him with violent fervor.

She bit down on his lip, hard enough to draw blood.

Cyrus winced and drew back, raising his hand to the bead of silver blood welling in his mouth. “Damn,” he said.

Prue shoved him again, and this time he staggered backward.

“I don’t want you,” she snarled, “until you are well and fully mine. Until that thing is gone from you for good.”

Rage pulsed inside him, swift and merciless. She is mine, he thought. And she always will be. He grabbed her and pressed his mouth to hers, hard and unyielding. She squirmed in his grasp, but he held fast, holding her body against him. His hands found her waist, pinning her hips to his. She thrashed and fought, but when his tongue entered her mouth, she went still. He tasted her, groaning with yearning at the rich, smooth feel of her lips and tongue. Gods, he’d missed this. He’d missed her. His memories of her scent, the feel of her, did not do her justice at all.