Acheron (Dark-Hunter 14)

I held my hand out to my brother, but Father shoved me toward the door. Tears gathered in my eyes as I choked. I wanted to call Acheron to my side, but couldn't get my voice to cooperate.

Acheron drifted away, into the crowd.

I wanted to see him. I needed his strength, but there was nothing I could do.

Against my will, they drew me into the temple and to a destiny I wanted no part in . . .

Acheron

9529 BC-7382 BC

December 11, 9529 BC

Acheron turned away from Apollo's temple. Impotent anger roiled through him. He was so tired of being reminded of his place in this world.

Being reminded he was nothing.

No doubt his father would punish him later for this. Not that he cared.

He no longer felt physical pain like the rest of the world. Too many days of being used and abused had left him hollow and unable to feel much of anything except hatred and anger.

Those two emotions burned inside him constantly.

He'd been made a whore against his will and now it was held against him as if he'd had a choice in the matter. As if he enjoyed being groped and fought over.

So be it.

Seeking some sort of vengeance on the ones who had cursed him to this fate, he found himself heading into the temple across the street from Apollo's.

It was empty. Most likely the occupants and caretakers were all across the street to witness his sister's sacrifice.

Fucking pigs.

There was nothing people loved more than to watch someone else being humiliated, especially royalty. It gave them a sense of power. A sense of superiority. But in the back of their minds, they all knew the truth. They were just grateful it wasn't them being degraded.

He walked down the center aisle that was framed by huge columns that stretched up toward the heavens. Columns that led toward the statue of a woman. He'd never been inside a temple before. Whores weren't allowed since the gods had abandoned them and mankind had damned them.

Defiantly, he lowered his cowl as he stared up at the carved image of the goddess. Made of solid gold, she was beautiful. Her peplos seemed to be rippling from an unseen wind and she held a bow in one hand with a quiver of arrows on her back. Her left hand rested on a tall poised deer that was brushing up against her leg.

He stared at the writing on the tablet at her feet, but couldn't read it.

He vaguely recalled Ryssa trying to teach him to read all those years ago when she'd rescued him. He hadn't seen a scroll or word since.

As he traced the first letter of the goddess's name, he thought he recognized it.

It was an A. Ryssa had told him his own name began with that letter.

He ran through his mind his limited knowledge of the gods and what he knew of them as he tried to think of one whose name sounded similar to his.

"You must be Athena," he said out loud. It would make sense since Athena was goddess of war and held a bow in her hand.

"I beg your pardon? Athena?!"

He turned sharply at the angry voice behind him. The woman was incredibly voluptuous with long, curling auburn hair and dark green eyes. Her beauty was natural and piercing. If he were capable of being sexually attracted to anyone, he might even have desired her. But honestly, he'd screwed so many people that he could live the rest of his life without another body under, over or near him.

Dressed in a white flowing gown, she stood with her hands on her curvy hips. "Are you blind? Or just stupid?"

He snarled at the insults. "I am neither."

She approached him with a narrowed gaze before she gestured toward the statue behind him. "Then how is it you don't know the image of Artemis when you see her?"

Acheron rolled his eyes at the mention of Apollo's twin sister. He should have known since the temples were so close together. "Is she as worthless as her brother?"

The woman's mouth fell open. She appeared shocked by his question. "I beg your pardon?"

Anger burned through him as he saw the tributes laid out on the altar before the imperial goddess. He flung his arm against them, sending them flying. Platters crashed to the floor while bits of flowers, toys and other offerings scattered and rolled over the marble. "Why do they bother when no one on Olympus hears them and if they do it's obvious they don't care?"

"Are you mad?"

"Yes, I am," he said from between clenched teeth. "Mad at this world where we are nothing to the gods. Mad at the Fates who put us here for no purpose except to toy with us for their petty amusement. I wish all of the gods were dead and gone."

The woman snarled, rushing at him. Acheron caught her hand before she could slap him.

She shrieked and something slammed into him, knocking him straight to the ground. Pain spread through his body.