Styxx (Dark-Hunter 22)

He couldn't breathe. A part of him wanted to run like a madman, screaming out into the night. But how would that look to the men who'd trusted him with their lives?

Shaking and scrambled, he pushed himself up and stumbled toward his desk. He poured wine into his cup and downed it all in one gulp then reached for more.

Outside, he heard his men's anger. They blamed the kings for this attack. Had they not been called back so soon, they would be celebrating a victory in Atlantis tonight, not suffering defeat at home.

From their own people.

And still none of them knew why they'd been summoned back....

Unless it was to be slaughtered.

Surely not. But as Galen would say, wars were nothing more than old men bragging about their own withered prowess while sending their sons out to die in their stead. And while there were many political ideas worth killing for, none were worth dying over.

Although Styxx no longer agreed with the latter.

Pissed and disgusted, he glared at his injured sword hand as the images of the men he'd killed in battle tore through him.

No, he definitely didn't agree with Galen. There were political causes he would die for, but never again would he kill for one. Nor would he ask anyone else to do so. Life was too precious for that.

He would only raise a sword to protect Bethany and Galen. No one else. And definitely nothing else.

"Why so sad, young prince? You're heading home. You should be thrilled."

Styxx went cold at the voice he hated most of all. His breathing intensified even more as he looked up to find Apollo on the other side of his desk. "What are you doing here?"

"I've come to welcome home the victorious Didymosian prince. Is that not what I'm supposed to do?"

Styxx hissed as the mark on his back heated up and burned his skin. He shot to his feet only to have Apollo materialize right in front of him. The god reached to touch his face.

He stepped back, out of reach.

"Don't be like that, prince."

For a moment, Styxx considered calling out for his guards, but there was no telling what Apollo might do to them. Two of the ten had already been slaughtered on home soil. The rest had barely survived.

He wouldn't sacrifice another of his men.

"I want you to leave me alone."

Apollo laughed. "That's not going to happen. See ... you're headed home now because your father and the other Greek kings intend to offer up your sister as a virgin sacrifice to me."

Granted, his head was swimming from pain and drink, but surely he'd misunderstood what Apollo just said. "What?"

Smirking, the god nodded. "It's true. They want the war with Atlantis to stop and to have their lands left alone. To keep me happy and to assure my continued benevolence for Greece over Atlantis, Ryssa is to be my sanctified mistress."

Great. He'd laugh if it wasn't so damned horrifying. He'd killed his uncle to save his sister from rape, only to have his father whore her to the one creature he hated most.

Why did I bother?

Apollo vanished then reappeared right behind Styxx. Wrapping his arms around his waist, he pulled Styxx back against him and leaned down to inhale the scent of Styxx's hair.

Cringing with repugnance, Styxx tried to pull free, but Apollo held him fast. "Just so you know, Ryssa's not the one I really want." His teeth elongated as he nuzzled Styxx's neck. "I hunger for someone much more robust and filling."

"Release me!"

Apollo dragged his fangs over Styxx's jugular and applied just enough pressure to hurt, but not break the skin. "You will give me what I want, prince," he whispered. "I've seen how much your men mean to you, especially that old one who coddles you. So be honest with me and yourself. What do you value more? Your own precious ass or theirs?"

In spite of the horrendous pain it caused, Styxx struggled even harder against him. "I will not whore for you! I've heard too many tales about what happens to your cast-offs."

Apollo laughed as he ran his hand over the place on Styxx's back where he'd burned his mark into Styxx's skin and to the wound where one of his attackers had buried a dagger in the center of that hated sun symbol. "That's nothing compared to what happens to the ones who deny me. Remember what I told you when you were in the Dionysion? Sooner or later, all people will whore for something. If you don't accept me, I will see the rest of your army destroyed by your enemies who still trail you, seeking to finish the job they started ... your precious kingdom broken into dust, that old man you love slaughtered, and your sister trained and sold as a tsoulus at market."

The Olympian dropped his hand down to where Styxx was branded as a tsoulus and pressed his fingers against the mark, letting Styxx know that he'd seen the brand the last time they were together.

"And once I have destroyed all their lives, I will take you to Olympus and make you serve us all alongside Prince Ganymede. So your basic choice is you whore for me alone, anytime and anyplace I desire you, and no one knows about us, or you bend over for every god on Olympus and spend eternity listening to Greek scribes regale your fate as a cautionary tale for others for thousands of years to come."

Styxx clenched his teeth at his options. "What's my third choice?"

"There's not one, and if you try to kill yourself ... let's just say, don't." Apollo kissed the back of his head and cupped him. "So what's your decision, little prince? And don't forget, either way, I win."

September 9, 9530 BC

Unlike his men, Styxx felt no joy whatsoever as he rode through the palace gates and neared the steps where his "family" waited to welcome him home. Honestly, he hadn't missed anything about this place.

How sad, he'd rather be in battle than face his father, mother, and sister.

Reining his horse, he braced himself for the pain to come then dismounted slowly. While most of his wounds had healed, some of the deeper ones remained, and all caused him misery as he made his way up the stairs to greet his king.

His father embraced him. "Welcome home."

Styxx inclined his head before he saw Ryssa standing behind their father.

"Brother." She curtsied to him.

Amazed he didn't have frostbite from her tone and glare, he gave her a curt bow. "Sister."

His father clapped him on the back right where he'd been stabbed then headed for the palace doors.

Unable to catch his breath, Styxx froze as sheer agony tore through him. For a full minute, it stung so badly he saw stars from it. Worse, he could feel fresh, warm blood seeping down his spine.

Unaware he'd reopened a wound, his father didn't know Styxx wasn't with him until he reached the doors. He turned back with a deep scowl.

His breathing labored, Styxx forced himself to continue onward. Sweat broke out on his forehead as his gaze dimmed and he feared he'd pass out on the stairs.

His father ran his gaze over the dispersing army. "Your returning numbers aren't as great as I'd hoped."