Authors: Sherrilyn Kenyon
Styxx glared at him with the same hatred Acheron had for him.
And you better while you’re still able.
Ryssa shook her head. “You need clothes and money.”
Their father curled his lip. “He deserves nothing. Nothing but our scorn.”
Acheron’s battered face was completely stoic. “Then I am rich indeed from the abundance of that which you’ve shown me.” In all his naked glory, he sauntered to the door then paused to smirk one last time. “You know, it took me a long time to realize why you hate me so much, Majesty.” Acheron locked gazes with Styxx. “But then it’s not me you really hate, is it? What you truly hate is how badly you want to fuck your own son.”
Their father bellowed in anger as the brutality of his words tore across Styxx’s heart. In that moment, Styxx knew the full depth of his uncle’s depravity. He had driven a permanent wedge between him and Acheron.
One that nothing would heal after this. Styxx would never forget this slap in the face.
And neither would Acheron.
With his head held high, Acheron left the room.
Ryssa raked them both with the full weight of her condemnation. “How could you? I told you what Estes was doing with him and you denied it. How can you blame him for this?”
Their father shook his head. “Estes didn’t do this. Acheron did it himself. Estes told me the way he parades himself and flaunts his body. The way he tempts everyone. He’s a destroyer just as they said at his birth. He will not rest until he ruins every person he’s around.”
“He’s just a confused boy, Father. He needs a family.”
Her words cut straight through Styxx.
And what am I, dear sister?
She was every bit as blind and self-absorbed as their father. How could she see Acheron so clearly and him not at all?
But then given the harsh brutality of his brother’s parting comments, he knew his brother was as far from innocent in thought as he was in action.
In that one moment, Styxx hated all of them. His father. His mother. Ryssa and Acheron.
But most of all, he hated himself.
September 27, 9532 BC
“You repulse me, Styxx! What kind of man, and I use that term loosely, could just sit here and let his own twin brother be cast into the world alone? Without coin or clothing? Acheron’s not the monster,
you
are! I wish you’d been the one Uncle sold. It should have been you all these years who was forced to be a whore handed over to anyone with enough coin! But no, you sit here in selfish comfort while your brother is cast adrift and say nothing! Nothing! I hate you, Styxx. I hope one day you suffer for all you’ve done!”
Styxx ignored Ryssa’s shrill tone as she railed against him and called down the wrath of every god on Olympus to punish him. She’d been doing it steadily since she returned from seeing Acheron off.
Even without her insults, his own emotions were in turmoil. There was no longer any doubt how his father would react should he ever learn that his heir had been whored, too.
He’s a repulsive catamite. He knew Estes’s preference and he used it to his advantage. Think you, I don’t know how that sick monster’s mind works? None of this was Estes’s fault. He was victimized by Acheron. I’ll bet the bastard crawled into his bed and begged him for it.
Like Ryssa was doing right now against Styxx, their father had ranted throughout the night against Acheron. Styxx had no peace from either of them. And neither had a clue that every time they spoke, a part of him died more.
Really, he just wanted to run away from it all.
But one look at the strangers who eyed him hungrily until they learned of his regal title kept him close to his father’s side. And while he knew Acheron was hungry, he knew his brother wasn’t being molested or beaten.
At least not yet.
Why couldn’t you have gone away with me when I tried to free you, Acheron?
Just once?
But then he wouldn’t have met his Bethany and …
“Shit!” Styxx cursed as Ryssa kicked him hard in the shin.
“You’re not even listening to me, are you, you little pig!”
“I hear every precious word that falls from your dainty lips, sweet sister.”
She kicked him again.
Hissing, he glared at her and moved his legs so that she couldn’t reach them. Thank the gods she wasn’t any taller.
“Why am I stuck with
you
as my brother?”
Styxx didn’t respond as they reached the docks and he descended from the wheeled litter. He reached up to help her down. She spat in his face and ignored his hand.
Grinding his teeth, he wiped his cheek.
As they neared the ramp, she turned on him with a vicious sneer. “I wish they’d drag you belowdecks and rape you the whole way home like they did poor Acheron when I tried to help him.”
That
explained those pains …
“And had you not been so stupid, Ryssa,
that
wouldn’t have happened. What kind of moron attempts to take a marked slave onto a passenger ship? You’re far too old to be so puerile.”
She slapped him before turning in a huff and leaving him to trail in her wake.
His father clapped him on the back as he reached him. “I know she plagues you, boy, but you have to admire and respect her spirit.”
Ah … Ryssa’s disrespect was cute and spirited, while Styxx’s was never to be tolerated.
Scowling in distaste, Styxx stopped as his father continued on. He’d never understand his father’s complicated and arbitrary double standards. And honestly, he was tired of trying.
At the top of the deck, Styxx stopped and looked back at Atlantis. In spite of it all, he wished his brother well and he hoped Acheron made it to Greece before the pending war broke out.
But regardless …
“May the gods grant you peace somewhere, little brother.”
Glancing over to Ryssa, who eyed him like he was filth, he sighed knowing the gods had no intention of granting any to him.
October 6, 9532 BC
Styxx reined Troian to a stop as he caught sight of Bethany at their spot. In spite of the day’s warmth, she was covered from neck to ankle in a peculiar white garment that obscured every part of her. Yet as she moved, he heard light jingling bells. She’d placed flowers on the blanket along with a small drum. Her sandals were left to the side of it, near a jug of wine and a small platter of cheese and crisp, flat bread.
Baffled and curious, he slid from his mount and left his horse to graze. “Beth?”
A beautiful, welcoming smile curved her lips as she turned in his direction. “Hector?”
“I’m right here, love.” He dropped his saddlebag next to the blanket and touched her lightly on the shoulder.
Rising up on her tiptoes, she placed a chaste kiss to his lips. Her scent hit him and made his body instantly hard as his senses reeled from her gentle ways, and warm reception.
“Where’s your pole?” he asked. She normally kept it near the pond.
A teasing light made her eyes sparkle as she reached down to stroke his hard cock. “Right here, it seems.”
He arched a brow at that. As always whenever she touched him, he couldn’t quite think straight.
She stepped back. “I thought today we’d do something a little different.”
“Whatever my lady wishes.”
She bit her lip seductively. “Can you play any instruments?”
“Sadly, no. My father thinks they’re a complete waste of time and boorish. Why?”
She sank down to the blanket and pulled him to sit beside her. “The why is a surprise.” She reached for the drum then placed it in his lap. Taking his hands into hers, she showed him how to keep a basic rhythm.
He felt odd and self-conscious with the small round drum as he waited for her to criticize his efforts. As a boy, he’d tried to play a flute, lyre, and drum, and had seen each burned in turn by his father, sister, or mother, who quickly told him he was inept and stupid for even attempting that which the gods had given him absolutely no talent for.
But Bethany didn’t say a word. She merely smiled and kissed him then rose to her feet.
“Don’t stop,” she said when he slowed his pace.
Styxx returned to what she’d taught him. Frowning, he watched as she pulled finger cymbals from her basket and slid them onto her hand. Next, she pulled out a sistrum. Before he could ask what she intended, she loosened the ribbon at her neck and dropped her outer garment to the ground.
His throat suddenly dry, Styxx froze at the sight of her in a
very
sheer white outfit the likes of which he’d never seen. The small top was heavily beaded with pearls and shiny silver disks. It cupped her full breasts and lifted them high, and left the swell of them exposed for his hungry gaze. The top stopped just below her breasts and left her abdomen completely bare. Not that it mattered. The material was so sheer that he could easily see the full outline of her breasts and puckered nipples that made him hunger for a quick taste. Three rows of pearls fell from the middle of the top to brush against the perfection of her belly where she’d painted Egyptian symbols for the goddess Hathor.
Silver armbands encircled her biceps. Two rows of tiny bells secured to them and the hem of her skirt were what made the jingling sound he’d heard on his arrival. She wore additional bells as anklets.
Her wide, full skirt had slits at each side that went all the way up to the thick beaded silver belt that had numerous white veils fastened to it. Like the top, it was sheer enough that he could see the full outline of her body and the dark hair at the juncture of her thighs.
“You stopped playing, my lord.”
He wanted to say something witty in response, but his brain seemed to have stopped completely. His jaw worked, yet no sound came out as her beauty left him completely senseless. Thank the gods she couldn’t see what an idiot he was. Otherwise, she’d be running as far from him as she could. He wasn’t all that sure he hadn’t drooled on himself.
“Hector? Are you still with me?”
“I’m here, my lady. Just completely overwhelmed by the magnitude of your grace. Your beauty has rendered me quite useless for the moment.”
She smiled at him. “Keep playing, my love. I have a treat for you.”
“I can’t imagine anything sweeter than what I’m already savoring.”
“Keep playing.”
He wasn’t sure how he managed it, but he obeyed. And as he did so, she began what had to be the most erotic dance he’d ever seen in his life. With every graceful move of her arm or swaying of her hips, her bells, cymbals, and sistrum rang and his body sizzled. He’d never seen anything like it. If this was how the Egyptians trained their daughters, he wondered how any of them managed to leave their bedchambers. No wonder they had such large families.…
As she danced, she freed her veils. Her hips and shoulders moving in perfect synchronicity, she sank down by his side and continued to undulate in time to the music they made. He was completely captivated.
Until she tied one end of her scarf to his wrist and lightly tugged on it.
Reacting on pure instinct, Styxx shot to his feet, leaving the drum to roll away. He tore the frail scarf off him until it was shredded.
Bethany froze as she heard Hector’s ragged breathing and felt his panicked anger. “Hector?” It took her a moment to find him. He was pacing near a tree and shaking uncontrollably. “Are you all right?”
He didn’t speak. He walked about in a feral panic as if waiting to be attacked.
“Hector? Precious … Speak to me. Tell me what’s happening?”
Styxx tried to calm down, he did. But it was so hard as horrifying memories assailed him. “I don’t like to be tied to anything. Honestly, I don’t even like to have walls or doors around me.” He laughed bitterly. “I even keep a window open on the coldest nights just so that I know I have a way out should I need it.”
Bethany felt the tears prick her eyes as she realized the true terror of his past. They would have tied him down to torture him, and probably when they raped him, too. “I’m so sorry, Hector. I didn’t think.”
He pulled her against him and held her close. “Don’t apologize, Beth. You went to a lot of effort for me … to make this day special, and I ruined it. I’m the one who’s sorry.”
She sank her hand into his soft hair and pressed her cheek against his. “Never apologize to me for your pain. What was done to you was wrong and it wasn’t your fault. You have the most amazing heart of anyone I’ve ever met. In spite of what the world has done to you, you still carry on with quiet dignity and humor. It’s what I love about you. You are a true warrior, brave to the core of your soul.”
Styxx swallowed the lump of pain in his throat that choked him. Funny, he didn’t feel brave. He felt more like a frightened mouse, cowering in the corner. He would never understand how a woman as wonderful as Bethany could stand to be with him.
His hand trembling, he picked the torn veil up from the ground and returned it to her. He would buy her a new one the next time he was at the market. “I will try not to overreact.”
She squeezed his fingers. “I respect your pain, my lord. I won’t do it again. I promise. There are plenty of other things we can do.”
He arched a brow at that. “Such as?”
She loosened her belt and sent her skirt straight to her feet. Completely bare from the waist down, she smiled as she knelt in front of him and lifted the hem of his chiton until he was as exposed to her as she was to him. To his complete shock and utter pleasure, she slowly drew him into her mouth.
A single tear slid down his cheek as he truly felt her love for him. Only Bethany had never judged him or caused him harm. In all the world, she alone made him feel human and manly. Normal. She didn’t see a prince to be hated or a boy to be scorned. She didn’t insert ideas and words into his actions that he never intended.
Bethany accepted him as he was. Scars and all. She didn’t use his past against him. She didn’t throw his words in his face. All she did was love him with her heart and rare goodness.
“I love you, Beth,” he whispered.
She pulled back to lick him then smiled up at his face. “I love you, too.”
In that moment, he almost told her the truth of who he was. But the fear in his heart locked his lips together. Being a prince had never served him well. The only happiness and acceptance he had in his miserable existence was found in these afternoons with her. If he were to ever lose them …