Chapter Twenty-Seven
She paused at the sight of two huge fighters heading toward her.
"No, but I got to pound his little Greek ass. I can't believe that piece of shit ever led an army."
"As I recall, he led that army right over yours and burned it to the ground."
"Shut up."
Bethany's stomach churned over their cruelty as she headed down the hallway they'd come from. She knew who they'd been talking about and it sliced her like a thousand knives. How could I have left him to this?
Alone and unprotected.
All around her prisoners cried and begged for mercy or food as a guard ladled water into misshapen or broken bowls and then shoved them through small cutouts at the bottom of the locked doors.
"Where's Styxx of Didymos?"
The guard quirked a brow at her. He spat on the ground by his feet then wiped his mouth with the back of his hand as he gave her a speculative glare. "There's a fee for that information, and the fee depends on what it is you want to do to him."
"Talk to him."
He laughed. "No one talks to him, girl. I'm not stupid. And I can't let you bleed him. He has a fight today and I have money bet on it."
She rose up in her god form to tower over the little weasel. "Where is he?" she snarled.
He shrank back in fear. "Forgive me, goddess. I didn't realize it was one of you wanting him again. He's there." He gestured to a door on the right.
Grabbing the water bucket from him, she went to the door and opened it. But what she found inside froze her to the spot as it drove horror straight into her heart.
Completely naked and filthy to an inhuman level, Styxx was chained like an animal. He had a thick iron collar around his neck that had a huge chain connected to it. A chain that ran to iron cuffs on his wrists and ankles. The chains went from him to a system of pulleys by the door that determined how much freedom he was allowed in the room. She winced as she remembered how badly he hated to be bound by anything.
Even a frail, light scarf.
Blood, dirt, cuts, and bruises covered his entire body. Tears choked her. His beautiful blond hair was greasy and filthy and matted with blood and dirt.
Styxx wrapped his hand in the chains that held him as he saw his latest "visitor" entering his dark cell. Still raw and bleeding from the last two, he only wanted a few minutes to lie in the darkness and try to forget what they'd done to him.
But the greedy bastards wouldn't allow him even a moment's peace.
At least this one was a petite blond woman who appeared unarmed. Because Atlantean women lacked the strength and stamina of their men, he much preferred their torture. Usually they were content to slap or scratch, or spit on him. They were only really dangerous when they were armed.
As the door closed behind her, he sprang into a feral crouch so that he could watch her and see what foul game she wanted to play. His head spun from pain and hunger. Shaking his head, he forced himself to stay focused and sharp.
He had to.
Bethany wanted to weep as those beautiful blue eyes locked with hers. For a moment, she thought she'd vomit as she saw the insanity inside him. They had reduced him to a rabid animal. And worse was the knowledge that Epithymia had kissed him, and as such, had given him a truly unearthly allure now. Even filthy, he made her heart quicken and desire tear through her. Not that she wouldn't have felt it anyway. But she knew her cousin's sick touch.
"Styxx?"
He growled at her, backing away, deeper into the shadows.
Moving slow and easy, she held the water bucket out toward him. Still, he retreated from her.
Bethany placed it within his reach and then stepped to the door.
Only then did he approach it ... on all fours like a beaten dog. He was so wary and skittish, it broke her heart. He kept his gaze on her as if waiting for her to hurt him as he inched his way to the bucket. He sniffed it carefully then dipped his fingers into the water so that he could taste a few drops. Satisfied it was untainted, he expelled an elongated breath. Those blue eyes didn't waver from her as he cupped his hand and took a drink as if he hadn't had any water for days. There was no refinement to him at all as he drank fast and furiously.
Someone coughed in the hallway.
He shot away from the bucket, back into the cell's corner, where he crouched, ready to fight.
Bethany manifested a loaf of bread. Holding it out for him, she approached him slowly. This time she got close enough to see the ragged scratches and cuts on his face. The blood and dirt matted in his beard. The deep and ugly healing wounds from weapons, fangs and claws on his arms, legs, chest, abdomen and back.
As badly as his body had been scarred before, it was nothing compared to what she saw now. Did they not allow him any armor in the arena?
From the look of his body, he must fight against his opponents completely naked ...
"I won't hurt you," she said gently. She tore a piece of bread for him. "Here."
The suspicion in his gaze shredded her conscience. Even though she heard his stomach rumbling from hunger, he refused to take her bread.
When she was almost close enough to touch him and he'd reached the limit of his chains, his eyes flared with anger.
"It's all right." She got rid of the bread and held her necklace up for him to see it. "Do you want it back?"
The moment his gaze focused on it, a single tear slid down his filthy, swollen cheek.
And that succeeded in wringing a sob from her. "Give me your arm and I'll return it to you."
Styxx hesitated before he obeyed and scooted close enough for her to reach only his wrist. He held out his scarred right hand that he still couldn't open all the way from when the Thracians had attacked him and pinned it to the ground with a dagger.
Ignoring the scars, scabs, and bruises on his forearm, she wound it about his wrist and secured it.
He crawled back to his corner and sat in a tight ball, clutching his good hand over her necklace as if it was a priceless treasure.
This time when she approached him, he didn't move. He sat rigid, his breathing ragged as he continued to rub her necklace with his ravaged fingers.
"What have they done to you?" she breathed, reaching to brush his hair back from his battered face. Given his condition, the more appropriate question was probably what had they not done to him.
He closed his eyes and held his arms over his head as if he expected her to slap or claw him. And he kept his good hand locked over her necklace to protect it.
And that broke her heart even more. Wanting to comfort him, she traced the line of his jaw.
"Don't." His ragged whisper surprised her.
"Don't what?"
His eyes filled with tears, but none fell as he glanced away.
Her fury mounted. She wasn't about to leave him here to be treated like this. Rising to her feet, she blasted away the chains that held him. Instead of being relieved, he scrambled away to try and find something to protect himself with. His eyes wild, he searched the room with his gaze.
That only made her madder. As bad as Apollo had behaved, her own pantheon had traumatized him worse than anything imaginable.
Damn them all!
She held her hand out toward Styxx. "I won't hurt you. Bethany sent me."
For a moment he calmed then he shook his head as agony refilled his gaze. "You're lying."
"I swear, I'm not. Take my hand and I'll get you out of here."
Styxx knew better. He was only allowed outside for deplorable things. Better to be tortured and raped in private than out in the arena for everyone to see and cheer. Nothing good ever happened outside of this place. 'Course nothing good ever happened inside either.
But at least in here, he was sometimes left alone.
She reached for him.
He recoiled and glanced to the door he knew was locked. Or worse, it wasn't, and if he went into the hall they'd throw him down and cage him then haul him into the arena to fight until they beat him down and punished him again.
"Take my hand. I promise I'll take you away from this."
But he wasn't stupid or naive-they'd beat that out of him a long time ago. "And go where?"
"Where I can heal you before I send you home."
Bullshit. He was never going home again, and at this point, he no longer wanted to. If his father ever found out about this ...
No. He just wanted them to kill him. Yet even that was asking for a mercy no god was willing to extend.
Bethany's eyes teared up at the suspicion in those celestial blue eyes. How could I have allowed them to do this to you? How could I say I loved you and not have bothered to check on you, at all?
Guilt tore through her. "You can trust me."
He scoffed at her words as if they were bitter to him. But with no real choice, he finally placed his hand in hers.
Bethany took him to her temple on Katateros. Summoning a formesta, she wrapped it around his battered and bruised body.
Styxx held his breath as the goddess gently urged him to follow her to an indoor atrium that had a huge pool in the center of it.
"Would you like me to help you bathe?"
He shook his head. He didn't want anyone to touch him.