Styxx (Dark-Hunter 22)

It might help if he wasn't a complete stranger to that emotion. "I find women tedious and demanding. Boring and unappetizing. I've no interest in them."

Estes arched a brow at that. "You prefer the bed of men, then?"

This time, he did screw his face up in disgust as memories assailed him. "Gods, no. Hardly. I find the bed of neither one appealing."

His uncle gaped then choked. "Virgin still? At your age? Inconceivable. Both your father and I had bastards aplenty by the time we were ten-and-five. And your brother has long since found the pleasures to be had in the arms of others. I can't even begin to count the lovers Acheron has had."

"I guess I'm not the man my brother is." Of course it helped to not spend the better part of a year being tortured for demons you didn't have.

After that ...

He had no desire to be touched by anyone, for any reason.

Styxx left Galen's headquarters and walked toward the dressing room.

Estes followed after him. "Hey now, I didn't mean to offend you with my shock. I spoke out of turn."

Yes, you did, asshole. Why else mention it?

Still angry at the insults, Styxx said nothing as he unlaced his cuirass. Estes helped him remove it. While his uncle took it to the mannequin, Styxx removed his black chiton and reached for his white one.

As his uncle turned back toward him, Estes sucked his breath in sharply at the ugly sight of the numerous scars on Styxx's body. Reaching out, his uncle laid his hand over the ones marring Styxx's left rib cage. "I'm so sorry for what happened to you."

His fury mounting at the useless sympathy, Styxx stepped away from his uncle so that he could unlace his greaves.

"Styxx..."

"Please, Uncle. I've no wish to talk about it. What's done is done."

And you said it yourself at the time. I've never been the same. The whole experience, combined with his mother's unwarranted and brutal attack, had robbed him of any sense of security or value.

At best he felt like an unwelcomed intruder with his family, at worst, a despised bastard stepchild. He just wanted to be away from them all.

Estes grimaced as he saw the additional scars that lined his back and groin. "Is that why you haven't taken a lover?"

In part, but not for the reasons Estes was thinking. He wasn't ready to answer questions about those scars and why a prince who'd never been to battle would carry such. "All of my equipment is fine and in proper working order. That has nothing to do with my decision. The priests took great precaution to ensure they didn't leave me impotent or sterile." His tone was as frigid as the anger in his heart over it.

And Estes finally realized how volatile this subject was with him. "All right. It's none of my business. But I am here for you, Styxx. If you need me."

No, you're not. You're a chicken-shit bastard. And that was the problem he had with his uncle. Like everyone else, Estes lied to his face. His brave, noble uncle whose heroic deeds had been told and retold by historians, poets and scribes had been too scared of his father to bring him home against his father's wishes and save him from his torment. Instead, the war hero had tucked his tail between his legs and walked out and left a child to suffer. How could he ever forgive that?

Styxx's gaze went to the five-inch scar on his forearm his father had given him, and the pain of the past racked him hard. He was so tired of it all. The lies, the duality. The hatred.

Failed expectations on everyone's part.

He moved to wash himself. "If you don't mind, Uncle, I should like to be alone for awhile."

"I thought you hated isolation."

That was before he'd been forced into it and had learned to make a bitter peace with the voices that shouted and whispered in his head. "People change."

"So they do." Estes clapped him on the back. "I shall leave you to your own company. But know that I do love you, nephew."

If love meant abandoning someone when they were helpless and being victimized, then he could do without it. But what did he know of Aphrodite's charms?

That bitch hated him like everyone else.

A tic worked in his jaw as he glanced to his helm and the image of Athena that mocked him, too. He should pry that badge off and replace it with Eris or Odia. They were the only residents on Olympus he could relate to.

Styxx toweled himself off and dressed then swirled his chlamys around his shoulders. He made a hood to shield his face. The last thing he wanted was to go home where his father would make more demands of him. Ryssa would revile him with her rancid tongue, and some random whore would grab his cock and try to pull him inside her.

I just want five minutes of peace....

There was a new play in town. If he hurried, he wouldn't miss more than a few lines. At least there he could forget this world for a short time and live in another. And so long as he sat in the common seats, no one would bother him. He could be just like everyone else....

At least for a little while.

Lifting his hand, he held the cowl in place as he all but ran to the paltry haven he had.

* * *

"Estes?"

His brother looked up from the scroll he was reading at Xerxes's desk across the room. "Yes?"

Folding his arms over his chest, Xerxes leaned against the wall behind him. "What do you honestly think of Styxx?"

Estes gave him an arch stare. "How so?"

Xerxes hesitated and debated with a matter that plagued him constantly. One he didn't dare breathe a word of to anyone other than his brother. While he might doubt Styxx's paternity in private, the boy was the only heir he had. Publicly, he must always act as if there was no question about his loyalty to Prince Styxx. If Styxx didn't inherit, civil war would tear his kingdom apart and there was no one else strong enough to put it back together.

And while Estes would be strong enough to hold it in his lifetime, he would never father an heir. Which would ultimately destroy the proud House of Aricles.

Xerxes could never allow that.

Didymos had to have a strong, uncontested king on her throne. Even if it meant putting a man there he hadn't fathered.

"Does he seem ... odd?"

Estes leaned back in his wooden chair and thought about the question. "He's at that awkward point where he's neither boy nor man, but a combination of the two, brother. His body is changing and growing faster than he can keep up with and he's being assailed with potent desires he's never known. He's also facing the reality that one day, after you're gone, he will rule and be responsible for the largest Greek city-state and her army and people. Honestly? We were all odd at his age. You more so than I."

Xerxes laughed. "No one was odder than you, brother." But Estes was right. At Styxx's age, Xerxes was terrified every day of losing his father and being saddled with a throne he wasn't ready to ascend. He'd been so nervous about it that he'd driven his father to madness with his constant concern for his health.

And he'd barely been ten-and-seven when his father had succumbed to a sudden illness.

Yet he didn't sense that from Styxx. The prince was extremely distant and withdrawn from him and everyone else. At times, he even feared the boy might make an attempt on his life.

Xerxes sighed. "Perhaps. But he doesn't really favor us, does he?"