Authors: Sherrilyn Kenyon
No, they weren’t. They were turning him into something he didn’t want to be.
His father.
Cold. Callous. Unfeeling.
Years ago, he’d begged his sister to teach him how to love. She’d rebuffed his pleas with her coldness. Aphrodite had spit on him that day and turned her back to a child who’d only wanted to belong to someone.
It was Odia and Lyssa who now took him to their breasts and suckled him. He drank the warmth of their venom in and let it strip the pain away. His family had failed to teach him love, but from the world and their callous arms, he’d finally learned how to fully hate.
January 2, 9534 BC
“I have to admire your strength, little prince. While I find it appalling, I do have to respect it. Especially given everything you’ve suffered.” The god brushed his hand against Styxx’s neck.
Styxx quickly jerked away then grimaced in pain.
“In that regard,” the god continued, “I think I should be insulted and highly offended that you’d rather be so abused than lie with me … but you’re young so I will forgive you.… For now.”
Lying on the floor of his cell, Styxx didn’t bother to look at the god who’d returned to torture him again. He was used to his visits. The Olympian came often to flog Styxx’s spirit and will while the priests flogged his body.
“Am I really so repugnant to you?” Well aware that Styxx wouldn’t answer, he shoved Styxx onto his back then ran his hands over the burns and scabs on Styxx’s skin. “I could heal all of these.”
“I won’t be your whore. I won’t be anyone’s whore.”
The god smiled. “Spoken like a true prince. But here’s the thing. Sooner or later, everyone whores themselves for something. And I am tired of watching you be hurt.”
Then stop it, you bastard!
“It’s not that easy. You want out.…”
Styxx shook his head, refusing to pay the price the god demanded.
The god growled at him then grabbed his jaw in a fierce grip. “All right. Fine. I know that one day, there will be something you are willing to whore yourself for, and then you
will
come to me on your knees. And you
will
receive me. In the meantime, before they do any more damage to your beauty, I will amend my terms. If you want to go home … remove your clothes and lie here with your arms open and your knees parted. I will leave my clothes on, but you will cradle me like a lover while I feed from you.”
Styxx cringed at the very thought of it. But given the other things he’d been put through these past months, that didn’t seem so bad. Besides, the god would feed from him anyway. He knew that for a fact. The Olympian had tied the two of them together and there was nothing Styxx could do to stop it.
“I have your word you won’t rape me,” Styxx breathed through his hoarse throat.
“I swear on the River Styx that this one time, I will not rape you. But only so long as you hold me and let me feed until I’m full.”
I can go home then?
“I will have you sent home on the morrow.”
Styxx nodded in consent.
The god withdrew from him and watched as he slowly pulled his coarse stola off. Naked, Styxx lay back on the floor and did as the god had asked. Turning his head so that the god would have access to his neck, he closed his eyes and waited.
Apollo took a moment to savor this one small victory that he knew had cost the prince much of his pride. Honestly, he’d expected Styxx to refuse. “Remember the terms of our deal, human. Until I’m sated. If you fail to cradle me like a lover, I can have you any way I want.”
Styxx nodded again.
The god approached him slowly. Styxx slammed his eyes shut, waiting for the familiar bite. Only this time, the god didn’t use his jugular. Rather, he sank his fangs into the femoral artery in his thigh.
Styxx barely caught himself before he shoved the god away. Any breach of their agreement …
It would be a lot more humiliating than this.
His jaw quivering, Styxx forced himself to sink his hand into the god’s dark hair and cradle his body as if he enjoyed the god’s touch. Bile rose in his throat. Biting his lip, he tried to focus on anything else to get him away from this moment of absolute horror.
Tears pricked at his eyes. The only good thing was that whenever the Olympian was around, the voices in his head stopped. He heard nothing. But right now, even that distraction would be welcome.
When the god finally finished, he crawled up his body then pressed himself against Styxx. Styxx had to force himself not to curl his lip or fight as he felt the god’s erection on his blistered thigh through the cloth of the god’s stola. He took Styxx’s chin in his hand and forced him to meet his gaze. “One day, prince, I will have you fully.”
“Will you at least give me your name now so that I know whom to avoid?”
The Olympian laughed. “When I’m deep inside you, prince, I will give you my name so that you know who honors you.”
January 3, 9534 BC
“Welcome home, boy.”
On the palace steps, Styxx inclined his head to his king as he drew his chlamys tighter around his body. Not because he was cold, but because he didn’t want to be touched by anyone ever again. “Thank you for your magnanimous benevolence, Majesty.”
He was lucky his father was too stupid to pick up on his sarcasm.
Swallowing the bitter hatred he felt for all of them, Styxx swept his gaze over the servants who’d gathered to receive him. Not that they had missed him or cared. Rather his sire had ordered them to be here. But the worst were their voices in his head.
He’s as mad as his mother.
Why would they release him when it’s obvious he’s no better?
What a wasted life.
How can
that
ever be our king?
Styxx did his best to block their thoughts, but it was impossible. And the more he heard them, the more the hatred inside him built. How dare they look down their noses at him. He wasn’t a pathetic waste. He couldn’t help being born the way he was and he damn sure hadn’t asked for it.
It took everything he had not to curse them. But the last thing he wanted was for his father to return him to the Dionysion for more treatment.
If he could learn to ignore the depravity and horrors he’d witnessed and suffered these last months then he could certainly ignore
them
.
“I see you’ve returned.” Ryssa’s frigid tone definitely didn’t help his mood.
You don’t look as if you’ve suffered any. You look fine and healthy, except for that stupid bald head.
Ignoring her cruel, childish thoughts, Styxx met her cold gaze. She was beautiful, he’d give her that. But he pitied whatever man was stuck with such a heartless bitch in his bed.
“Come, Ryssa,” their father said, smiling at her. “Embrace your brother.”
The loathing in her eyes turned his stomach.
I’d rather hug a snake. And grow your hair back. It doesn’t make you look manly. You’re sickening without it. And what’s with that voice? Trying to sound more mature? Please …
Styxx forced himself not to touch his head as her internal comments cut him to the bone. He couldn’t help the damage done to his voice. Unlike his hair, that was a permanent reminder of the months he’d spent screaming in agony and begging for a mercy that never came.
“It’s all right, Majesty,” he said to his father. “I’d rather go to my room … if I may?”
He scowled. “Of course.”
Styxx lowered his head and didn’t look up again until he was locked in a place where no one could harm him.
Even so, he didn’t feel safe here. He’d never feel safe again. How could he? At any moment, his “patron” nameless god could find him and feed on or grope him.
All the priests had taught him was a brand new hell. In the past, he’d detested being alone. Now he despised being with people, too. And while the pain and voices continued to torment him, he now had frequent panic attacks that assaulted him whenever he let his guard down.
His unidentified god could be lurking in any shadow.…
Worse, he’d learned that he was as disposable as Acheron. If he displeased his father in any way, he’d be sent back and left there. Then he’d have no choice except to turn to the Olympian who wanted to own him.
Styxx removed his chlamys then hissed as his palm began to burn for no reason whatsoever. It felt just like one of the hot irons they’d tortured him with. Shaking his hand, he tried to get it to stop, but it wouldn’t.
Damn it, Acheron!
What in the name of Hades was he doing? Why couldn’t his brother behave and not get hurt?
Styxx blew cool air across his palm as tears blinded him.
Please don’t do this to me again. I don’t want to go back to that damn temple.
Next time, his father might never allow him to return home.
Cold fear gripped his heart. “I will be perfect. I swear.” Whatever his father wanted him to be, he would be without argument. Yes, he hated them, but he hated that temple most of all.
Styxx froze as he caught sight of himself in the mirror on his dressing table. Ryssa was right. He was hideous.
He ran his hand over his scalp, where only the tiniest bit of hair was growing back. Turning away, he lifted the hem of his short chiton. Though mostly healed, the blisters and scars were even more appalling than his head. While he healed faster than humans, it didn’t mean he wouldn’t scar. In fact, his entire left side from his armpit to his thigh was a solid line of vicious scars. They went along nicely with the ones in his shoulder and chest where his mother had stabbed him.
“What difference does it make?”
Scarred or not, women would still clamor to bed him. Men would still cater to his ego.
And each would despise him as much as his sister and mother did, and their insults would ring in his ears. In all honesty, he had to give credit to his family. At least they didn’t bother to hide their true feelings. They openly insulted him every chance they got. He could almost respect them for that.
Sick and angry over his fate, he reached for the wine on his desk and carried it to his bed where he intended to get drunk enough to drive every last bit of it from his mind. “I
finally
understand you, Mother.”
August 16, 9534 BC
“Greetings, Uncle.” Styxx gave a formal bow to Estes as he met him on the palace steps.
Estes arched a brow at his aloof formality. “No hug for your uncle, little squirrel?”
What has happened to you, boy?
Refusing to react to his uncle’s thoughts, Styxx glanced to his father before he quickly complied then stepped back out of Estes’s reach. He still didn’t like being touched by anyone.
“He’s becoming quite the dignified man, isn’t he?” his father asked, clapping Styxx on the shoulder.
It was all he could do not to cringe or grimace. Only his father would be stupid enough to mistake diffidence for dignity.
“Uncle!” Ryssa ran forward to hug and kiss him.
Grateful for her distraction, Styxx took three more steps away from them and folded his hands behind his back.
Estes glanced at him over Ryssa’s shoulder while she chattered on about nonsense. Styxx averted his gaze. It was hard to get past the fact that the last time his uncle had seen him, he’d been lying broken and naked on a table and sobbing like a woman.
An event his father never hesitated to throw in his face.
I should leave my crown to Ryssa. At least when she cries, it’s understandable.
But more than that was Styxx’s anger over Estes not helping him when he’d needed him most. For all his promises, his uncle had gone home to Acheron while Styxx had spent another four months on that table being bled and tortured. He was only now getting back to his full strength and filling out again.
I wish all of you were dead.
Styxx cleared his damaged throat, which still sounded as if he had a severe cold even when he didn’t. He’d lost a full octave range courtesy of the priests. “Father? May I be excused? I’m to meet Master Galen for practice.”
Ryssa curled her lip at him. “How thoughtless are you? You’re going to practice with Uncle just arriving?”
His father held his hand up to silence her. “Your brother’s quite right with his priorities, Ryssa. And I’m glad to see him showing some ambition for once.” He inclined his head to Styxx. “You’re excused.”
Styxx gave them a curt bow before he headed down the drive, toward the gymnasium with his guards in tow. While he didn’t enjoy battle practice as a rule, he would much rather have Galen knock him around for a bit than face the shame and horror he felt whenever he remembered begging his uncle not to abandon him to his tormentors.
And then watching as the bastard left him.
Twice.
It was the same atrocious feeling he had any time he was required to attend
any
temple celebration.
His aversion to the gods at this point should be legendary. And he despised the fact that he had to publicly worship the same gods who’d damned him to this existence. To the nameless one who’d preyed on him.
Meanwhile everyone told him how lucky and privileged he was to be born prince.
The stupid, blind bastards could have it all.
Rage darkened his gaze as he entered the small gymnasium that had been built for the royal family’s private use. It was identical to the public gymnasium further in town except for the size. While the other nobles trained and were educated in the public gymnasium, this one was reserved for Styxx. Like everything else to do with him, he trained alone when most boys his age trained with friends.
Of course, it would help if he actually had some of those.…
Galen met him at the entrance to his dressing room. “You’re early, Highness.”
Styxx hesitated. “If you have something else to do—”
“No, it’s all good. You’re welcome here any time, you know that.”
Styxx inclined his head to him. “Am I to dress or undress?”
Most of their skill training was done in the nude, but actual battle training required him to wear his armor so that he could become accustomed to the extreme weight of it. And hopefully to build enough muscle that he could use it in battle.