Styxx (Dark-Hunter 22)

Chapter Sixteen

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.