Chapter 22 Punishment
PUNISHMENT
PRUE
The privacy caves consisted of one long tunnel that resembled a hallway, with several rows of small, closet-sized caves on each side.
Piles of pillows and blankets took up the floor space in each hollow, providing a soft cushion for sleeping.
Snores echoed throughout the tunnel, indicating other witches were taking advantage of the makeshift sleeping quarters.
There were no doors, but it was far better than trying to sleep on the rocky ground in the main cavern, surrounded by other people.
Prue and Cyrus followed Wren down to the very end of the tunnel. The last niche was farther from the others, allowing at least a modicum of privacy. Prue was certain if she shouted or screamed, the others in the tunnel would hear. But no one would overhear a conversation in hushed tones.
Cyrus was rigid beside her, unease rippling off his body in waves. It put her on edge to see him like this. He was haunted. Tormented. She could see it in the darkness of his eyes, the set of his jaw, the downturn of his lips.
He was not himself.
But then again… she wasn’t, either. The moment Lagos’s neck snapped kept replaying in her mind, over and over.
Crack.
The twist of Atlas’s hands.
The way Lagos’s body crumpled.
The feral grin on the Titan’s face, as if he knew how much Lagos’s death would break her.
He hadn’t done it in self-defense. He had done it to wound her.
“Supper will be served in an hour,” Wren said, jerking Prue from her anguished thoughts. “Just shout if you get lost. Someone will find you.” She offered a wry smile, then turned and walked back up the tunnel, leaving Prue and Cyrus to stand awkwardly in their privacy cave.
Prue stared at the pale blue comforter and cream-colored pillows that lined the floor.
She should feel exhausted—her body still ached from her injuries, and a dull throb pulsed through her skull.
Her head felt foggy as she adjusted to the sounds around her being much duller, since she only had one ear now.
But her mind was racing, her thoughts frantic and unhinged. She would certainly not be resting.
Cyrus inhaled deeply and turned to face her, his expression guarded. “What do you need? What can I do for you?”
Prue looked at him, but he wouldn’t meet her gaze. He stared at her chin, that same hollow look on his face.
“Cyrus,” she whispered, drawing closer to him.
He took a step back. “Stop.”
She froze. “Stop what?”
“Whatever this is…” He gestured between them vaguely. “Stop it. I don’t deserve it.”
Prue frowned. “You don’t even know what I was going to say.”
“You were going to ask me what’s wrong. Or you were going to comfort me. But neither is appropriate right now. So please just stop.”
Her brows drew together. “What the hell are you talking about? We just went through a terrible ordeal. Of course they would be appropriate right now.”
Cyrus shook his head, then took her hands in his. His fingers were cold and trembling. “Just… just tell me what I can do for you. Please. Let me be useful. Somehow.”
“You can be useful by being my husband and answering my damn questions. Talk to me, Cyrus. Is it Lagos?”
He flinched, indicating she’d hit her mark. Goddess, she hadn’t realized how fond he’d become of the demon. They must have truly connected in her absence.
The thought drove a dagger straight through her heart.
She would have loved to see their friendship grow, just as hers had from the beginning.
Lagos had been her first ally, her first true friend in the Underworld.
And it both warmed and shattered her heart to know that Cyrus had experienced the same camaraderie with him.
“I’m grieving, too,” Prue said in a soft voice. “Lagos was—”
Cyrus suddenly pulled away from her, running a hand through his hair. “It’s not just grief, Prue. It’s—It’s… guilt, shame, horror. I don’t deserve to feel anything or to be comforted because it’s my fault. Lagos’s death is on my hands, and you should utterly despise me for it.”
She sucked in a gasp at the harshness of his words. “Cyrus, that’s not true!”
“Yes, it is! I brought him there. I came up with the plan. I assigned him to track you down while I distracted the Titans. Lagos was following my orders. All of this rests on me, Prue. So please spare me your pitying glances and your false sense of concern. It is wasted on someone like me.”
Frustration rose up inside her. Goddess above, she didn’t have the patience for Cyrus’s assumptions and orders right now. “Is that what you want?” she snapped. “You want me to hate you? To shout at you? To blame you?”
“Yes!” he shouted.
Prue’s head reared back as she stared at Cyrus. Was he serious?
Somewhere down the tunnel, someone hollered at them to be quiet, but they ignored the outburst. Cyrus stared at Prue, his eyes blazing with fire.
He closed the distance between them, his expression full of rage.
“Hate me. Strike me. Punish me. Do it all, Prue. I want your hatred and your fury. Take it out on me until I am on my knees begging you for mercy.”
She shook her head as something boiled within her.
Everything inside her was so intense and volatile that she couldn’t hold it back much longer.
“You don’t get to tell me what to do, Cyrus.
I’m not your subject. I’m not a puppet to be controlled.
And I will not simply shout at you because it’s what your masochistic mind craves.
Go punish yourself. Leave me out of it.”
She turned away from him. A snarl ripped from his throat, and he grabbed her wrist, jerking her back toward him.
Without thinking, Prue slapped him hard across the face. The sound echoed in the cavern, and his head swiveled from the force of it.
Prue gasped and staggered backward. Shit. She hadn’t meant to do that.
Cyrus slowly turned to stare at her, his eyes wide and his cheek red from where she struck him. His mouth fell open.
“I—I’m sorry,” she said at once. “I didn’t—”
“Do it again.”
She stiffened. “What?”
“Hit me again.”
“Cyrus—”
“Dammit, hit me, Prue!”
She made a frustrated sound and whacked him on the other cheek, just to shut him up. This time, he deserved it. She was sick of him telling her what to do.
He stumbled back, shaking his head violently. Now both his cheeks were red, and his eyes were wide and wild. “Gods, I needed that.”
“You’re insane, Cyrus.”
“I’m poisonous,” he said. “Can’t you see that?
Everything I touch dies. No matter how hard I try to be good, everything crumbles around me.
The moment I fell in love with you, Vasileios stabbed you.
Then, when I got you back, Kronos took over my body.
You gave up your godsdamn life to save me from Tartarus caving in.
And then the Titans abducted you and cut off your ear.
My most loyal subject died on my watch. I—I can’t do this anymore, Prue.
It’s nothing but pain and more pain, and the guilt and exhaustion from bearing these burdens is too much for me. ”
Prue took in his words, her heart racing and her chest cinching. The despair pouring from his lips, the tortured agony etched into his face, was too much for her. Goddess, she wished she could take it all away for him.
But it weighed on her, too. He was not alone in this. How could she make him see that?
He needed something to jar him from this before he spiraled. He was too consumed by the raw and festering emotions, and she needed to wake him up somehow.
The slap had seemed to do the trick.
Maybe he needed more.
Before she could reconsider, Prue shoved him hard.
Cyrus stumbled again, nearly falling to the floor. When he righted himself, she dug the heels of her hands into his chest, pushing him until he fell against the cavern wall. With a grunt, he stared at her in bewilderment. “Prue—”
“You want pain?” she asked, prowling toward him. “You want punishment? Fine. I’ll give it to you.” She slapped him again.
He groaned, a protest rising from his lips. She struck his other side before he could speak.
“You’re right, Cyrus.” She kicked him in the shin, and his knees buckled.
“How dare you? How dare you give up everything for the woman you love? How dare you win your people’s loyalty by earning the crown and sparing them from a rule of tyranny at Apollo’s hand?
You could have marched an army of demons to the Titans’ hideout, risking lives, commanding them to do your bidding.
But you didn’t. I’m willing to bet my life that Lagos volunteered to come with you.
Because I know him. He wouldn’t have let you go without him. His death is not on you.”
She pushed him into the wall, pinning him there with her hands, then drew her face close to his.
“How dare you be the king your people need? How dare you be a loving husband who seeks only to serve his wife? And above all, how dare you be a king who feels things? Who endures the emotions and the guilt that comes with having a conscience?”
His nostrils flared, and he was gasping for breath. His face was red, and a thin line of blood trickled from his nose.
“Do you feel something yet?” Prue whispered. “Have I punished you enough?”
Cyrus grabbed her shoulders, and his mouth crashed into hers.
Adrenaline still coursed through her body, and she shoved hard against him, pinning him to the wall with her body.
Her hips rolled, and he groaned against her lips.
His tongue ravaged her, gliding along her mouth.
She bit down on his lower lip, and he let out a low growl.
In a swift movement, he spun her around, pressing her back into the wall, caging her with his arms. “You’ll be my ruin,” he murmured before his mouth claimed hers.
“My destruction.” Another fierce kiss. “My undoing.” His mouth moved to her throat, where he sucked and nipped.
Prue leaned her head back against the rocky wall, her eyes closing as pleasure rocketed through her.