Styxx (DH #33) (50 page)

But Ryssa wouldn’t care about Bethany. At all. So he used the one thing she might actually listen to. One of the main reasons he’d submitted to Apollo even though it sickened him to the core of his being.

“Because of the faces of the men I have watched the Atlanteans hack into pieces. If we can save one soldier’s life by tying you to Apollo, I’m all for it.”

“So it doesn’t bother you at all that I, your sister, am to be used as a whore?”

Yes, it did. But her precious virginity was nothing compared to the horrors he’d seen. The horrors he and Acheron had survived. Sooner or later, she’d be given to someone. And while she wouldn’t be a wife to Apollo, they weren’t selling her off to a dung dealer.

Besides, her fate with Apollo was much kinder than his. At least she was a woman. Every time the Olympian came near him, he wanted to vomit and curse. To fight with every part of his abilities.

But he couldn’t. For the sake of his men, country, family, and Galen and Bethany, he had to submit to Apollo’s whims regardless of how he felt about it.

Their collective asses or his alone …

“Say something, you selfish bastard! Oh wait, I know, you don’t speak, do you? Not for anyone.” She curled her lip. “You’re the one who should be tied down and raped until you beg for mercy.”

His temper snapped at a wish he was sick of hearing and experiencing. “Instead of whining like an infant, dear sister, I suggest you do what the rest of us have had to do. Remove your clothes, get on your knees, and take his cock wherever he sees fit to shove it.”

She shrieked and headed for their father.

Styxx rolled his eyes as he made his way to the stables.

*   *   *

B
ethany hummed lightly
as she felt a slight tug at her pole. Before she could pull in her catch, she heard a horse approaching at a furious run. Hector wasn’t supposed to be here. He normally forewarned her of his visits so as not to startle her when he arrived.

Pulling her feet under her in case she had to rise and run, she reached for her knife as Dynatos stood up and growled low.

“Beth, it’s me.” Hector had come, after all.

She expelled a relieved breath and patted Dynatos’s huge head as he lay back down next to her. “You said you wouldn’t have any free time today.”

“I don’t … but I needed to make sure you were all right.”

She frowned. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.”

“I know better. I hear it in your voice. What has you troubled?”

Hector sat down behind her and stretched his long legs out on each side of her body. Wrapping his arms about her waist, he held her close and leaned his head against hers. “I know I promised I’d never ask again, but please, run with me.”

“Honey, I can’t.”

He tightened his arms around her. “I would die if anything ever happened to you.”

“Nothing is going to happen. Why do you worry so?”

“Because I have seen the worst of humanity. What men will do when they find a beautiful woman alone. And while I would kill anyone who hurt you, I don’t want you hurt. Period. No matter how hard you try, you can never take those moments back or undo the lingering damage you’re left with that shreds every part of your soul for all eternity.” He kissed her cheek. “In all my life, I’ve only had one thing that mattered to me, and she sits in my arms. I can’t stand the thought of not protecting you … of you needing me and my not being there for you.”

Bethany’s heart ached at the pain she heard in his voice. Leaning back, she cradled his head. How she wished she could run with him. But she’d have to give up her godhood to do so.

And her eyesight. Forever.

No, not forever. For an extremely finite human life. One where she’d be as helpless as he feared her. That she couldn’t do. Not for a mortal man, even one she loved as much as this one.

“I love you, too, Hector. And I have
never
said that to a man I wasn’t blood-related to. But I can’t leave with you.”

“Then promise me one thing?”

“What?”

He removed her necklace from his wrist and put it back around her neck. “You won’t take this off, and if anyone ever tries to hurt you, you will kill them.”

“I would rather you have my necklace.”

“And I can’t take it while you have nothing to protect you.”

“Hector—”

“I won’t give on this, Beth. Don’t even try to argue.”

Styxx tightened his arms around her. There was something evil coming. He could feel it with every instinct he possessed. But he didn’t know what it was.

For himself, he couldn’t care less about it. Fear for his own safety had abandoned him a long time ago. His fears now consisted of one woman only.

Too many people had made threats against her lately. If she wouldn’t leave then he had no choice. He had to protect her.

No matter what it took.

January 23, 9529 BC

Styxx winced as he stood outside the cell where Acheron had been placed. Worse, he heard the fear and anguish in his brother’s thoughts. The anger that justifiably cursed their entire family.

Most of all, he heard the unwarranted hatred and hostility Acheron bore for him personally when all he’d ever done was try to help him.

Fuck it.…

Knowing his hands were tied where his brother was concerned and guilty over the fact that he treasured Bethany’s safety more, Styxx opened the tiny hole at the base of the fortified door and slid in the basket he’d brought. Bread, wine, cheese, and the sugared figs Acheron had loved when they were boys. He didn’t try to speak to him. There was no need. Rather he let Acheron think it was Ryssa who brought the food.

After all, what could he say to his twin?

Sorry, brother. I can’t help you?

While I love you, I love someone else more?

That wouldn’t go over well, and he understood. If he were Acheron, he’d hate him, too.

Heartsick, he placed his hand on the door and ground his teeth in impotent frustration. But what hurt the most was the knowledge that it could have just as easily been him in that room as Acheron.

And maybe it should be.

The only thing that had saved him from Acheron’s fate was his eyes. It was so ridiculous, he’d laugh if it didn’t hurt so much.

One day, Acheron, when I’m king, I will set you free. Then no one will hurt you ever again. I swear it with every part of me. I will make this up to you.

Unfortunately for his brother, today wasn’t that day.

October 22, 9529 BC

Styxx woke up to an awful queasy feeling. Again. He hadn’t felt well in days and he knew why. Acheron had stopped eating. Even though he’d been making drops of food to the cell, his brother had chosen a slow suicide.

Over the last week as the symptoms had worsened, Styxx had considered telling his father then reconsidered it.

He wouldn’t take this from Acheron. His brother wanted an end to his suffering. The least he could do was allow it. Even if it hurt like hell.

So he hadn’t breathed a word of it to anyone. Not even Bethany. Instead, he’d spent most of yesterday with her, knowing it wouldn’t be long before Acheron killed them.

He shook his head, trying to clear the hazy fog. It was useless.

Styxx reached for his wine, ignoring the food. It wouldn’t matter how much
he
ate, he’d still be hungry and his stomach would continue to gnaw viciously … As it always did whenever Acheron starved.

“Styxx? Are you listening?”

Blinking, he met his father’s cold stare. “Majesty?”

Ryssa twisted her lips into an ugly face. “He didn’t hear a word, Father. He’s ignoring us as always.”

“I asked what you thought of putting your sister in yellow and gold to offer her to Apollo.”

“Sure.” The wine slipped from his hand.

“Styxx?”

He heard his father, but he couldn’t respond. His knees buckled. He hit the ground hard.

His father and the priest ran to him. They were speaking to him, but he couldn’t understand them or respond. He was too weak to even move his own hand.

All the color drained from his father’s face as he lifted him up and carried him to his bed. For a moment, Styxx could almost pretend his father loved him. But he knew better. No one could do the things his father had done and care about their child. It wasn’t possible.

The bastard never even called him “son,” not unless he was speaking to someone else about him. His father had never once used any kind of endearment for him at all. Unlike Ryssa, his precious kitten …

Styxx blinked slowly as bitter memories churned inside his head.

Ryssa came forward to sit on his bed and hold his hand. With the exception of slapping him, she hadn’t deigned to touch him since …

Ever.

I am definitely dying.

Thoughts and voices mingled in his head, but he shoved them aside so that he could conjure an image of Bethany yesterday when he’d given her a gold necklace he’d bought for her. Her face had lit up his world like the sun after a long rain.

And then, singing with her beautiful voice and playing her drum, she’d danced for him with her bells jingling lightly with every graceful movement of her hips and arms. There truly was nothing more beautiful.

How he wished he were in her arms right now, listening to her hum in that sweet, dulcet contralto. But he would never see her face again, never feel her gentle touch on his skin.

Aching at the thought that she was lost to him, he closed his eyes and surrendered himself to the gods he hated.

October 29, 9529 BC

Styxx came awake with a start. Grimacing, he struggled to breathe as he glanced around his room to find himself alone except for Galen who dozed in a nearby chair.

Gods, he was so thirsty.

He reached for the clay cup on the table beside his bed, but accidentally knocked it over.

Galen woke up instantly. “Highness?”

Styxx sucked his breath in sharply as more pain racked him.

Galen shot to the bed to make sure he was all right. “Don’t move. You’ve been extremely ill.”

Styxx tried to understand what was going on. “W-why are you here?”

“Why do you think? I heard you were dying.”

And Galen had left his daughter to be with him.…

Styxx coughed before he spoke through his dry, hoarse throat. “I’m sorry I interrupted your time with Antigone.”

“Sorry? I’m rather sure you didn’t do this on purpose.” Galen helped him sit up then poured him some wine. He held the cup to Styxx’s lips so that he could sip at it.

“How do you feel?”

Styxx swallowed before he answered. “Like you ran over me in your chariot.”

His gray eyes irritated, the old man sighed. “You are never going to let me forget that, are you?”

Styxx smiled then grimaced. “How long have I been ill?”

“A week.”

A week? He frowned at Galen’s unkempt state. “When did you get here?”

“Five days ago.”

That explained the way Galen appeared. He’d come immediately and had ridden hard.

Styxx took Galen’s hand and squeezed it. “Thank you.”

Galen inclined his head respectfully. “Your men have all gathered as well and are awaiting news of your health. I think the sight of their loyalty and love of you has frightened your father.”

Beautiful. Just what he wanted to deal with.

“May I ask a favor, Galen?”

“Anything.”

Styxx cringed as more pain hit him. “There’s a small cottage on the edge of town … part of a small farm.”

“Your woman?”

He nodded. “Her name is Bethany. Please let her know that I’m ill, but thinking of her. And that I’ll see her as soon as I’m able to travel.”

“Do you want me to bring her to you?”

“No!” He licked his chapped lips then lowered his voice so that no one could overhear him. “She doesn’t know, Galen.”

“Know what?”

“That I’m prince. I … um … I kind of lied to her. She thinks me a merchant’s son and that I’m your foot soldier. Please, don’t tell her otherwise.”

Galen gaped at his words. “How can she not know?”

“She’s blind.”

“And you’ve never told her the truth?”

He shook his head. “She thinks my name is Hector.”

Galen laughed and clapped him gently on his shoulder. “You’re the only prince I know who wouldn’t have forced her to your palace to be your slave or mistress.”

“She’s happy where she is.”

Galen glanced around Styxx’s ornate chambers. “Don’t you think she’d be happier in a palace, draped in jewels?”

Styxx scoffed. “You know better than that. Money means nothing to her, and honestly, I’d rather be in her cottage with her than here.”

Galen smiled at him. “We pig farmers must stick together, eh?”

“Indeed.”

“You rest, Highness, and I will see the matter done for you.”

*   *   *

B
ethany stood as
she heard the approach of a horse. By the sound of it, she knew it wasn’t Hector’s. Dynatos came to his feet to growl and bark.

Her hand on her knife, she cocked her head, waiting to see if her visitor was friend or foe. Until she knew for certain, she held on to Dynatos’s collar.

Someone with a very heavy footfall approached her hesitantly. “Are you Bethany?”

“You are?”

“Galen. I’m the top
strategos
to Prince Styxx.”

Why would the leader of the Didymosian army be here?

Unless …

“Hector?” She stumbled from the pain of his death. Dynatos circled her, trying to calm her down.

“Shh, my lady.” Ignoring her dog, Galen pulled her up against his hard, muscled body. “Your Hector lives, but he’s very ill. He asked me to get word to you.”

Closing her eyes, she breathed in relief, and patted his hand. “Thank you, Master Galen.”

“You’re trembling,” he said as he released her.

“You scared me. I thought I’d lost my Hector.”

“So you do love him?”

Her breathing ragged, she nodded. “More than my own life.”

“Good, because he is completely devoted to you, my lady. In all our travels and battles, I saw him turn away countless women by saying he had a lady at home whose trust and heart he would never willingly break.”