Styxx (Dark-Hunter 22)

Birth. He'd been forced to navigate both his mother's and his father's capricious moods all his life. But his father had never asked his opinions before, and in the past, he'd been too sober to give them.

His father narrowed his eyes at him. "Here's my next question. Would you have the same answer if the Corinthians were led by a beautiful queen instead?"

Styxx laughed at the thought.

His laughter died an instant later as he looked up to see his sister approaching. By the pinched look on her face, he wondered if she hadn't heard his suggestion to marry her off. She was in a fierce pique and didn't care who knew it.

That brought out the little brother in him and he couldn't resist rankling her more. "Hey, it's lamb-head. Where have you been, sweet sister?"

"Away," she snapped angrily with a glare that should have left him in bloody pieces on the ground. Rudely, she dismissed him and turned to address her king. "Father, might I have a word alone with you?"

His father glanced at him before he answered. "Anything you have to say to me can be said in front of your brother. One day Styxx will be your king, too, and you will be answerable to him."

The expression on her face said that she couldn't think of anything worse. If only she knew what true hell and misery were. But then no one had ever beaten her for any offense. And they'd never held her down and ...

Styxx winced at the vicious memories and lashed out at the one bitch who had slapped him every time she drew near. If not physically, verbally.

He should be whipped, Father.... He's nothing but a spoiled, selfish bully.

Any time she could, she'd worsened his punishments. No doubt had she been on the hunting trip, she'd have encouraged them to be even rougher with him. Crueler.

Had he been sober, he'd have probably said nothing to her. But today ...

"That's right," he said snidely, taking another drink of his wine. "That means you have to kiss my feet just like everyone else."

As if anyone ever had ...

His father laughed at him. "You're such a scamp."

Ryssa bit her lip and pinned him with a glare that told him plainly she wished he were dead and burned. That she begrudged him every breath he took.

"So why are you here, kitten?" their father asked. "Do you wish a new trinket or clothes?"

"No. I want to bring Acheron home."

Styxx averted his gaze as those words went through him and made his heart skip a beat. Did she somehow know what Estes had done to them?

His father sputtered indignantly. "Now see here, what has gotten into your foolish head? I've told you repeatedly how I feel. That monster doesn't belong here."

Panicked terror spread through Styxx as he brushed his hand against the words Estes had branded into his groin. If his father sent for Acheron now, Estes might expose both of them just for vindictive meanness.

And how could Styxx deny what was clearly branded onto his body?

In fact, there was no telling what Estes would do, or Acheron, for that matter. His brother had gone crazy when Styxx had tried to free him. Acheron was completely docile and submissive to Estes's every whim.

What if Acheron said that Styxx had been a willing participant? That he'd begged them to whore him ...

Styxx curled his lip and spoke out loud before he could stop himself. "Why would you want him here? He's a danger to all of us."

"A danger how?"

In ways you can't even begin to fathom, little girl.

The king glared at her. "You don't know what a demigod is capable of. He could kill your brother while he sleeps, kill me, kill all of us."

Acheron could tell the entire kingdom that I'm a whore he helped to train.... No doubt, she'd enjoy seeing his humiliation made public. To know how he'd been degraded and abused.

For Acheron, she'd weep. For him, she'd only laugh.

I hope you get what you deserve....

Ryssa stamped her foot. "Why do you not fear for Estes?"

"Estes keeps him under control."

Styxx ground his teeth as those words echoed in his head. So his father knew that Estes drugged his brother. For that matter, he might even know that Estes beat Acheron into submission. And why should he care? The gods had borne witness that his father had very seldom spared him a beating.

For all he knew, his father had sent Estes the whips he used on Acheron. That thought sickened him to the point he almost vomited.

What else did his father know?

"Acheron belongs here, with us," Ryssa said, her voice cracking with her emotion.

Their father came to his feet. "You are a woman, Ryssa, and a young one at that. Your mind is best occupied with fashion and decorating. Planning your dress for a party. Acheron doesn't belong in this family. He never will. Now go find your mother and gossip. Styxx and I have important matters to discuss."

She glared at them both. "Matters more important than your own son?"

"He is not my son!"

Those words slashed at Styxx's heart. Every time his father said them, a part of him died. Because he knew the truth.

There was no way to legitimately deny one twin and embrace the other. The scar on his arm testified to the king's doubt where Styxx was concerned.

Just like Acheron ...

Ryssa shook her head. "So that whole story you told me about protecting Acheron was wrong?"

Their father scowled. "What are you talking about?"

Her lips quivered before she answered. "You told me when they took Acheron away that you were doing it to protect him. You said that two heirs shouldn't be raised together, as it would be an added target to enemies. You said you would bring Acheron home when he was old enough. You never intended to return him here, did you?"

"Leave us!"

She spun on her heel and stormed off.