Page 64 of Salt & Blood

“I fear we don’thavetime,” she whispered. “The magic from the box will sense Gaia’s power. It could return and finish what it started.”

“If it does, we will have enough time to go through the portal again,” Sol said. “Between myself and Gaia, we are strong enough to fuel it. This isn’t like before, with an entire city of people to evacuate. It’s just the three of us.”

Pandora flinched at the reminder of what she’d done. She’d caused so much destruction, so much loss of life. So many souls and people were now without homes because of her.

That’s why you’re here,she reminded herself.To fix things.

Her guilt would only fester and worsen if she allowed herself to sit here and do nothing.

She stood, letting her hands fall on her thighs. “I should find Gaia. We need to get started.”

She was striding for the door when a warm hand grasped her wrist, stopping her. When she turned, Sol was looking at her, eyebrows raised. Only then did she register that he was shirtless, and that damned glorious sculpted chest was only inches away from her, taunting her.

Her mouth suddenly went dry.

“Trivia. You’re in a shift.”

Her eyes fluttered shut, embarrassment warming her cheeks. “Right. Any idea where I can change?”

“There are clothes in the armoire. I’ll give you some privacy.”

Pandora opened and closed her mouth, torn between begging him to stay and shoving him more quickly out the door. Before she could decide, Sol was striding out the door, and it closed behind him with a soft snap, leaving her alone with her thoughts and memories.

CHALLENGE

PRUE

Prue had never beento the Undead Wilds before. All she knew was that they were a dying wood with dark shadows and an even darker presence that couldn’t be explained. The death gods often avoided the Wilds because they didn’t want to tempt the darkness festering inside. Even Cyrus didn’t know what dwelled in the seemingly haunted forest.

Now, with the magical construct of the Underworld in shambles, it wasn’t a forest at all, but an expanse of misty darkness. Prue could sense nothing but Cyrus walking alongside her and the solid ground at her feet with each step she took. Everything else was obscured in shadow, a fog that concealed all and made her feel like she was walking on a cloud.

Of course Apollo would choose a place like this for the challenge. He likely hoped it would unsettle them.

Cyrus’s hand was clamped tightly in hers, his form rigid and his steps unwavering. He exuded confidence and rage, his body lethal and powerful. Not a trace of nerves or anxiety or fear. He was nothing but the magnificent god Prue knew him to be. Even if he was mortal, even if his magic wasn’t the same—he would always be that same otherworldly being to her.

For the past three days, they had trained together. Cyrus had siphoned her power a little at a time, then used it to summon flora at will. After Prue rested and recovered, he did it again. He had become more precise, able to determine how much power to drain in order to cast certain spells.

But she was afraid it wouldn’t be enough.

She squeezed his fingers and took a steadying breath, trying to still the trembling within her chest. “I don’t care what the terms of the challenge are,” she whispered. “If he overpowers you, I’m interfering.”

Cyrus cut her a sharp glance. “You can’t. It will forfeit the terms.”

“I don’t care. If he’s about to kill you, you’re going to lose the challenge anyway.” When he opened his mouth to argue, Prue said, “Wouldn’t you do the same, if it were me?”

His mouth clamped shut, his brows lowering.

Prue almost laughed. “That’s what I thought. Besides, I doubt Hyperion will stand by and do nothing if you overpower Apollo.”

Cyrus heaved a shaky sigh, the only sign of his unease. “Prue, if you get too close, I—I’m not sure if I can protect you. I know nothing about this power. If I absorb too much magic, and it becomes volatile, you could get hurt.”

“I can shield myself,” Prue assured him. “My mother taught me how. Don’t worry about me, Cyrus. No matter what, I’m not leaving you.”

Cyrus halted, then turned to look at her, his expression stricken and his eyes filling with a panicked desperation. In a swift movement, he seized her face and kissed her deeply. His mouth glided over hers, his tongue sweeping along her lips and tasting her with expert precision. She gripped his tunic, fingers fisting the fabric as she drew him closer, intensifying the kiss with several strokes of her tongue. Her body molded to fit his, their hips aligning. His hands came along her waist, then slid lower until he cupped her ass. She gasped, withdrawing to give him a look that was part amusement, part confusion.

“What was that for?” she asked breathlessly.

“That was for all the moments I wasted not kissing you,” he whispered, his hand catching one of her curls and coiling it around his finger. “You have always stood by me, Prue. Not once have you faltered, even during my most despicable moments. I do not deserve you.”

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