Acheron (Dark-Hunter #14)

Acheron (Dark-Hunter #14) Page 17

Styxx came off the floor with a furious curse of his own. He grabbed their father's sword and would have killed Acheron had their father not stopped him.

"Take him out and beat him," his father snarled.

"No!"

Acheron looked up to see Ryssa in the doorway.

His father's expression was one of complete disbelief. "What did you say?"

She folded her arms over her chest and stood strong and determined in the center of the opened doors. "You heard me, Father. I said no."

The king's face flushed with fury. "You do not tell me what to do, woman."

"You're right," she said calmly. "I can't order you about. I have no power over you, but as the mistress of Apollo, I do have some say in what he does and who he pacifies, especially in regards to my own family . . ." She glanced meaningfully from him to Styxx and back again. "I'm sick of Acheron's abuse. No more."

The king gestured to Styxx. "Look at your brother. He's bleeding."

She looked at Acheron and nodded. "He's bled more than his share."

"Styxx is bleeding."

Her gaze went to the gown on the floor. "And for his cruelty I'd say he received a light sentence."

Styxx glared at her. "One day, Ryssa, I will be your king. You'd do well to remember that."

She met his angry sneer levelly. "And I'm the mother of a demigod. You'd do well to remember that, brother."

Styxx shoved her aside as he walked out of the room. Their father shook his head. "Women," he snarled before he left them alone.

Ryssa moved forward and snatched the gown from the floor before she wadded it into a ball. "I would apologize for him, but there's no excuse to be found." She snorted. "I only wish I could have used that argument to save you earlier. Little do they know Apollo couldn't care less what I thought. But that will be our secret, won't it?"

Acheron shrugged as he moved to the bed and pulled the sheet around him to cover his nudity from his sister's gaze. "I'd only be shocked if Father showed me anything other than contempt."

She let out another long, sad breath. "Should I have a tray of food sent to the bathing room for you?"

He shook his head. "I have no intention of going there again."

"You have to bathe."

Not really. Maybe if he stank enough no one would bother him anymore. But he wasn't willing to argue with his sister. "You should go and rest while Apollodorus doesn't need you."

She gave him a gentle hug before she left.

Ryssa had barely closed the door before Artemis stepped out of the shadows.

She smiled at him. "Say thank you, Artemis."

"Only if I can say it through gritted teeth."

She gaped at him as if she couldn't believe his anger. "You're not grateful?"

Acheron threw his hands up in surrender. "I don't want to fight with you, Artie. Honestly. I just want to lick my wounds for a while."

She materialized at his back and pulled him against her. "I'd rather lick them for you." She dipped her hand down to cup him.

Cringing over her caress, Acheron pulled her hand away from his groin. "Given that it's been less than a week since I had my nuts cut out, Artemis, I'm not in the mood."

She made a sound of disgust. "Don't be such a baby. You're intact now. Let's celebrate by putting them to use." She blew in his ear.

Acheron jerked away from her. Naturally, she followed him.

Just give her what she wants. Otherwise this would only continue to the point she'd get angry and probably attack him. I would rather have my eyes gouged out.

Of course, they'd only regrow which made him wonder if his balls wouldn't have done the same thing even without Artemis's help.

Honestly, there was no use in fighting this. It wasn't like he hadn't been forced to have sex with people he detested before. All an argument would do was delay the inevitable and get him hurt again.

You might as well get it over with as quickly as possible.

He turned to face her. "Where do you want me?"

The words had barely left his lips before he found himself on his back, in her bed with her naked on top of him.

"I've missed you, Acheron."

He cringed as she sank her teeth into his neck and then he did what he always did. He pleased her and took nothing for himself.

She didn't even notice except to say that she liked it when they weren't as messy as they were whenever he ejaculated. Now he lay holding her while she purred in satisfaction.

And Acheron was still empty inside.

Artemis sat up and wrapped a sheet around herself. "You better go back now. Hades is hosting a party in Zeus's temple tonight and I have to make an appearance."

He didn't even have time to open his lips before he was back in his room alone-like a discarded piece of furniture she was through with for the time being. He went to the washing bowl and poured a little water out of the pitcher to clean himself with and shave, then he dressed.

Soul sick, he considered going to a play, but why bother? It would take much more than that to ease what was hurt inside him. And as he looked around his prison, his gaze was drawn to the wine that Ryssa had brought. Unfortunately it wasn't strong enough to fill the empty hole that burned.

Grabbing his coin purse and cloak, he left the palace and went to the street where all the stews in town were relegated. It didn't take long to find his old merchant. Short and plump, the man was bald with a mouth full of rotten teeth, and standing on a corner outside the worst brothel in town.

Euclid smiled the moment he saw him approach. "Acheron, it's been a long time."

"Greetings. You have any Morpheus Root?"

He licked his lips greedily. "Of course I do. How much do you want?"

"I'll take everything you have."

He arched a brow at that. "You got enough coin?"

Acheron held his purse out to him.

Impressed, Euclid pulled out a small wooden arc from the wheeled cart that to the uninitiated or naive appeared to hold only rags. He handed the arc to Acheron for his inspection. Acheron opened it and lifted the herbs to his nose. The pungent lavender wasn't enough to overwhelm the herb that would ease him.

Acheron closed it. "My thanks. I'll need the cord and pots for it as well."

Euclid handed them over in exchange for more coin. "I'll have more of it next week. Anytime you need some, let me know and if you haven't the coin for it, I'm sure the two of us could work something out." He dragged one dirty finger down the side of Acheron's face.

He didn't know why that offended him. After all it was a common practice for whores to barter their bodies for supplies, but for some reason it cut him deep. "Thanks, Euclid." Pulling his cowl lower, he made his way through the dark alleys back to the palace and his room.

There in the darkness, he opened the lid and mixed the herbs together. Strange how he could still recall the exact amounts to use.

"Inhale this, boy. It'll make it all so much more pleasant for you."

His gut tightened as he heard Estes's voice in his head. The first time he'd been given this, his uncle had held him on the ground and forced him to breathe it in. After that, Acheron had needed very little coaxing. His uncle had been right, it'd made everything much more tolerable since it took away all of his conscience and fight. It'd made him a mindless supplicant to whatever deviant act they wanted to perform on him.

He lit the herbs and blew on them ever so slightly to get them charred to the right amount so that the fumes would be potent enough. Closing his eyes, he picked up the clay mask and held it to his nose, then inhaled until everything that hurt stopped.

His head swimming, he stumbled to his bed and lay down so that he could watch the ceiling tilt and spin.

Apostolos? Where are you?

"Hello, voices," he breathed. They were always louder when he was high.

We want you to come home, Apostolos. Tell us where to find you.

He looked around the room and sighed. "I'm in a dark room."

Where?

Acheron laughed, then rolled over onto his stomach and groaned at the sensation of the coarse linen brushing against his body. He drew a ragged breath as his cock hardened. Artemis had thrown him out too soon. The drug was making him incredibly horny.

Then again, she didn't really care for the mess he made. Every time he came in her bed, she wrinkled up her nose distastefully. It was why it was easier for him to just screw her and please himself later when he was alone.

He sucked his breath in sharply as the sheet rubbed against his nipples. The pleasure was excruciating. But he refused to touch himself.

He didn't want release or any kind of pleasure. He just wanted peace.

More than that he wanted to be touched by someone who gave a fuck about him. And that certainly wasn't him.

November 12, 9528 BC

Acheron sat outside on his balcony, letting the chill winds freeze him as he realized his sister was in the window watching him. He motioned for her to come outside.

Her teeth started chattering immediately. "It's freezing out here."

"Feels good to me." He was actually sweating.

Ryssa narrowed her eyes suspiciously as she neared him. "What have you done?"

"I've done nothing. Absolutely nothing." He barely had the strength to eat.

She shook her head in anger. "You've been taking those drugs again, haven't you?"

Acheron looked away.

She gripped his face in her hand and forced him to look at her. "Why would you do such a thing?"

"Don't start on me, Ryssa."

"Acheron, please," she said, her voice strained as she released him. "You're killing yourself."

He wished. Glancing down, he turned his wrist out to look at the perfect unblemished skin. There was no trace of the cut that had severed his skin and veins. "I can't kill myself. The gods know I've tried. There's no way out for me so here I sit, biding my time until the gods end my life, while I try to stay out of everyone's way."

She brushed the hair back from his eyes. "You look terrible. When was the last time you bathed?"

He shoved her away, angry over the question. "The last time I bathed, I was accused of rape and then castrated. No offense, I'd rather smell."

She shook her head. "When was the last time you ate?"

"I don't know." He scratched at the beard on his cheeks. "What difference does it make? It's not like Father's going to let me starve to death. I'll eat when I have to. When they make me."

The next thing he knew, Ryssa reached up and grabbed his ear in a tight pinch. "You're going to eat right now."

"Hey!" Acheron snapped, but she refused to let go. With a determined grip, she pulled him from the railing and forced him to follow her to her room. She was so much smaller than him that he was bent almost double and had to struggle to keep up with her frenetic steps. "You do know that I'm bigger than you," he reminded her.

"Yes, but I'm meaner and madder." She snatched her hand away, making a lasting sting on his lobe.

Frowning, he rubbed his ear.

She pointed at her dressing table where a plate of fruit, bread and cheese rested. "Sit down and eat. Now!"

"Yes, Your Majesty." As Acheron reached for a bit of cheese, he caught his reflection. Sunken eyes, tinged by red stared out from an unkempt man. His beard was ragged, his cropped hair shaggy. He looked like an old man instead of a youth.

That was okay, he felt even older than he looked. Averting his gaze, he placed the cheese in his mouth while Ryssa poured him a goblet of wine.

She left him to walk over to the door that led to her maid's quarters. "Nera? Would you have them draw me a bath in my room? And find me a razor."

Acheron didn't speak as he ate. Honestly, he was starving. The maids hadn't been bringing food for him and he didn't dare go in search of it on his own given the way his father had reacted the last time he found him near the kitchen and dining room.

When Ryssa returned, she was holding Apollodorus. The baby smiled the moment he saw Acheron and reached for him.

Unable to deny him, Acheron took him into his arms. "Greetings, bit. How have you been?"

He squealed in response.

Acheron look up at Ryssa as she folded cloth for a diaper. "He's grown since I last saw him."

"Yes, he has."

Acheron glanced at the baby's thinning hair. "You're getting bald too."

Ryssa laughed suddenly. "You did the same thing. All of your black hair fell out and then it came back in blond."

Apollodorus reached out and tugged at his beard.

Acheron held the baby out to Ryssa. "I'm too dirty to hold him."

"He doesn't mind. He's just glad to see his uncle again. He's missed you."

He'd missed him too.

Acheron hugged the baby close even as he glared at his sister. "That's unfair, Ryssa. You know what would befall me if Father ever found me here. And if he ever saw me near Apollodorus . . ."

She placed her hand on his shoulder. "I know, Acheron."

The door opened to admit servants who brought in a large tub and hot water. Ryssa took the baby while Acheron ate more.

Once the bath was ready, she left him alone.

With more enthusiasm than he wanted, Acheron sank into the steaming hot water and sighed. It'd been so long since he last had a bath that he'd almost forgotten how good it felt. Even so, it wasn't worth the risk to him.

"I love you, Ryssa," he whispered. She was the only one who really cared about him. Artemis wanted to love him, but she was a goddess and hers was a selfish love-very much like Estes's. So long as he pleased her, she was kind. Granted she was more giving than Estes had ever been, but there were still limits on what she'd do.

What hurt most with Artemis was the memory of how they'd been in the beginning. He craved that innocence on his part. That feeling that he'd meant something to her . . .

Trying not to think about it, he reached for the razor to finally scrape his cheeks smooth. Once he was finished, he dragged himself out of the tub and reached for his clean clothes.

After he was dressed, he knocked on the door to the maid's room. "I'm finished. Thank you."

Ryssa joined him before she closed the door so the maid couldn't hear them. "Please don't take any more of your drugs, Acheron. I don't like what they do to you." The concern in her pale blue eyes scalded him.

"I'll wean myself."

"Promise?"

He nodded. "But only for you."

She smiled at him. "You look so much better. Anytime you want a bath, come here and I'll have one drawn for you." She lifted herself up on her tiptoes to hug him.

Acheron gave her a squeeze, then withdrew. He'd stayed here too long already. They both knew the risk was too great for him to be in her chambers while the rest of the household was awake.

Entering his room again, he stared at the arc of Morpheus Root on his table.

Throw it out.

No, he couldn't. He'd be sick again if he stopped cold. His existence was miserable enough without that. He'd do what he promised Ryssa. He'd wean himself back off it.

"Acheron?"

He tensed at Artemis's voice. How did she know the precise moment to come see him?

Then again, she was a goddess.

"Greetings, Artie."

She flashed in behind him and wrapped her arm around his waist. "Mmm, you smell good."

It was the bath mixed with the drugs. "I just bathed."

Pulling back, she scowled at him. "You look strange. Are you ill?"

"No."

"Then come. I'm in the mood to dance."

As if he had a choice? But he wasn't in the mood to be defiant. He was actually learning to avoid beatings and enjoying it.

Artemis took him to her temple. Acheron drew up short as he saw what she'd done to it. There were candles everywhere while the music played very low. A small feast had been laid out.

He frowned at her. "What is this?"

She offered him a tender smile. "It's been a while since we've been together. I wanted it to be special tonight. Do you like it?"

He was too surprised to even think. "You did this for me?"

"Well, I certainly didn't set romantic lighting for my brother or one of my koris." She went to the table and picked up a small box. "And I had Hephaestus make this for you."

Acheron was completely stunned as he stared at the box and what it signified. This was so out of character for her that for a moment he wondered if someone had knocked her in the head. "You have a gift for me?"

"Well, I wanted something to replace the ring. You can't take this back with you, but you can leave it here to use when you visit me."

Curious, he opened the box to find a set of gold vambraces.

Artemis squeezed his forearm. "It's for your wrists whenever we hunt. You never say anything, but I know the bowstring stings your wrist when you shoot. These will protect your skin and they'll make sure the arrow always flies true to its mark."

It was so incredibly thoughtful and reminded him of how easy it'd been to give his heart to her. Why couldn't she always be like this?

"Thank you, Artie."

"Does it make you happy?"

She was almost childlike in her effort to please him. Acheron brushed the hair back from her face so that he could kiss her cheek. "It makes me more than happy."

"Good. You've been so sad lately and I don't like it when you're sad."

Then why did she do the things she did that upset him? He didn't understand it, but she was trying now. He wasn't about to throw the past in her face.

He held his hand out to her. "Shall we dance?"

Smiling, she took his hand and allowed him to twirl her around. Her laughter filled his ears.

Acheron wanted desperately to feel her joy too. But there was nothing in him except a fleeting sense of relief that she wasn't throwing him down and jumping on top of him. Of course he was still buzzed from the remnants of the Morpheus Root he'd taken a couple of hours ago. It was the part where his body was calm and he could function without being horny or sick.

Artemis leaned her head against his chest and sighed while they swayed to the low music.

Gods how he wanted to love her again. But he was so afraid of it. Every time he let his guard down, she hurt him. If she would just acknowledge them as friends to the world. Or allow him to know that he really did mean something to her.

Wanting her friendship back, he swallowed. "Artie?"

"Yes?"

"Would you spend tomorrow with me?"

She smiled happily. "I can come get you in the morning."

"Not here. In Didymos."

She pulled away from him. "I don't know, Acheron. Someone could see us."

It always came down to that. "You can take other forms. You don't have to look like you."

She let out a frustrated sigh. "Why is this important to you? Why not stay here with me?"

Don't say it . . .

But he couldn't help it. The drugs wouldn't let him hold his tongue. "I don't feel human here."

She scowled. "What?"

Acheron stepped away from her in indecision. Part of him didn't want to tell her the truth, but the other was sick of hiding it from her. "Being here makes me feel like a pet dog. It's like living in my uncle's home in Atlantis. I'm not allowed to leave your bedroom unless you're with me. I can't go outside without your permission. It's demeaning."

"Demeaning?" She narrowed her eyes on him. "You are in the temple of a goddess on Olympus. How in the name of Zeus could you be demeaned by that?"

You. Whore. Given her tone, the words were interchangeable. They struck him like a knife through his heart. "Forgive me, akra. It's not my place to make requests of you."

She curled her lip. "Oh, stop with that sniveling tone. I hate it when you do that. Just get out."

He was immediately thrown back into his room. He looked around the plain furnishings and the dark shadows.

"I'm so sick of this."

Desperate for something to change, he grabbed his cloak and headed out of the palace, into the city. He didn't pause until he reached Merus and Eleni's home. The firelight flickered behind the closed shutters and he imagined the two of them inside, laughing and teasing.

Family.

He knew the word, but he didn't really understand it. What it would be like to be welcomed home. To know that out there was one person who would die for him.

You will never find that here.

Acheron looked around the vacant street and remembered the day his father had thrown him out of Estes's home. He'd wandered for months trying to find someplace to rest. Trying to find work. Everyone refused to hire him. At least for anything other than whoring.

You're such a pretty thing . . . Let's put that body to good use . . .

He cringed at the bitter memories that always haunted him. I want out.

And he'd tried to find that out. He'd gone to city after city, town after town and they'd all been the same. There was nowhere to go and no one who wanted him for a moment longer than it took for them to screw him. The only reason he'd returned here had been the memory of his sister and the one summer when he'd felt like a person and not an object.

Sick to his stomach, he looked up the hill to where the palace twinkled like a magical star.

And still those Atlantean voices whispered to him.

Come to us, Apostolos. Come home . . .

Acheron laughed bitterly. "Why? So you can fuck me like everyone else?"

There was nowhere for him to go. No escape from this torment. The only reason he had to live was for the two people in this world who didn't judge him.

Ryssa and Apollodorus. May the gods have mercy on him if he were to lose them. He would never be able to go on should they leave this world without him.

February 18, 9527 BC

"I don't know what it is about you and that baby, but you are the most amazing nurse ever born."

Acheron laughed at Ryssa's comment as she took Apollodorus from his arms. Neither of them could understand why Acheron's presence calmed his nephew, but there was no denying that anytime Apollodorus was fussy, he calmed down immediately for Acheron. In fact, Ryssa had begun bringing the babe to him virtually every night so that she could sleep.

"You know you can leave him with me any time at all. I think we get along so well because we both function on the same level." Acheron ruffled the soft hair on his nephew's head.

Smiling, Ryssa wrapped the blanket around Apollodorus. "Thank the gods I have you. I don't know what I'd do if you weren't here to help out with him."

An instant later the doors to Acheron's room crashed open. Six guards stormed in to tackle him to the floor.

"What is this?" Ryssa demanded.

They didn't respond. Acheron fought them, but in the end they shackled him while the baby screamed in protest.

"He's done nothing!" Ryssa shouted as she followed them out of the room and down the hallway.

They didn't stop until they'd taken him to the throne room and forced him to his knees in front of his father and Styxx who sat smugly on their thrones while they stared at him in disdain.

Acheron glared at them. "Why am I here?"

His father came off his throne with a bellow of rage. "You do not ask questions of me, traitor!"

Stunned, Acheron couldn't even blink for a full minute.

"Father!" Ryssa snapped. "Have you lost your reason?"

His answer was to backhand Acheron. "Where were you last night?"

Acheron panted at the pain that exploded through his cheek and eye. He'd been with Artemis, but he didn't dare tell his father that. "I was in my room."

His father struck him again. "Liar. I have witnesses who saw you in a stew, plotting my murder."

Stunned, he couldn't even respond. All he could do was look at Styxx and the fearful light in the prince's eyes told him exactly who'd been in the stew. "I've done no such thing."

His father hit him again before turned to the guards. "Torture him until he decides to tell us the truth."

Acheron cried out a denial as he fought the guards holding him.

"Father, no!" Ryssa moved forward.

The king turned on her with a feral snarl. "You're not going to save him this time. He's committed treason and I will not allow that to go unanswered."

His breathing ragged, Acheron who was being restrained by the guards, met and held Styxx's gaze. How could his brother plot the death of a man who worshiped the ground he walked on? He would sell his soul to have just a portion of the love Styxx spurned.

But there was no need to ask for clemency. His father had already made up his mind. Only the bastard Acheron could be the traitor. Never Styxx. The only person who could exonerate him was Artemis. And she'd rather die than openly admit he'd been with her in her temple last night.

Acheron was hauled out of the throne room and taken to the prison below.

Even though he fought the guards every step of the way, it wasn't enough to prevent them from stripping his clothes off his body and then chaining him down on the interrogation block. The granite stone chilled him to his bones. There were blood stains permanently dried in the stone and there was no doubt that his own blood would soon mix with that of the others who'd been tortured and killed before him.

Closing his eyes, Acheron tried to think of something, anything to protect himself from what was about to happen. But as the interrogator came forward, he knew there was nothing he could do.

Nothing could save him from this.

"The king wants the names of everyone you met with."

Acheron winced in fear of what would come when he told the truth. "I didn't meet with anyone."

He brought a hot steel whip down across Acheron's chest.

Acheron screamed out as he realized just how impossible this was going to be.

Ryssa was terrified as she returned to her room and handed her crying son over to his nurse. What was she going to do?

Unlike her father, she knew who the real traitor had to be. If witnesses saw someone tall, blond and looking like Acheron, it was Styxx. Acheron would have nothing to gain by killing the king, other than vengeance and he wasn't the kind of person to go seeking that.

Not to mention Acheron would never have been in public uncovered, especially not a stew. Had he done so, he'd still be there, beating people off him.

"What have you done, Styxx?" she whispered through the tight lump in her throat.

Why would he plot against his own father? But then she knew, the history of mankind was written by sons wanting more and willing to do anything to get it. Even so, she'd thought Styxx above such scheming. Who could have poisoned his mind?

"I have to find Artemis." There was no one else who could help save Acheron.

Ryssa headed for her door to leave, but before she took three steps, the doors opened to admit the same guards who'd arrested Acheron.

"Your Highness, you're to be taken for questioning."

Her heart chilled at those words. "Questioning? This can't be."

But it was. Surrounding her, they took her to her father's war room where he waited with Styxx.

She gave them both the coldest look she could muster. "What is this, Father?"

He'd never looked older than he did right then. His handsome features were drawn tight with sadness. "Why would you betray me, Daughter?"

"I've never done anything to betray you, Father, ever."

He shook his head. "I have a witness who came forward and said that you were with Acheron last night."

She leveled a killing glare at Styxx. "Then they are lying as they lied about Acheron. I was with Apollo last night. Summon him and see."

Styxx's face went white.

So, he'd thought to rid himself of her too. She couldn't believe her father's stupidity where Styxx was concerned.

Relief etched itself across her father's brow. "I'm glad they're mistaken, kitten." He laid a gentle hand to her face. "The thought of my beloved daughter turning on me . . . "

What of his beloved son?

She looked past her father to see Styxx staring at the floor. "Acheron is innocent."

"No, child. Not this time. I have too many witnesses who saw him there."

Why couldn't she make him see the truth? "Acheron would never be in a stew."

"Of course he would. He worked in one. Where else would he go?"

Anywhere but there. Acheron had hated every minute of being in those places. "Please, Father. You've done enough to him. Let him be."

He shook his head. "There is a nest of vipers coiled around me and until I uncover the name of everyone he spoke to, I won't stop."

Tears filled her eyes as she considered the nightmare they were going to put Acheron through. Again. "The priests say that Hades reserves a special corner of Tartarus for betrayers. I'm sure the name of your real traitor is being carved there even as we speak."

Styxx refused to meet her gaze.

So she looked back at her father. "In all these years, Acheron has sought nothing but love from you, Father. One moment of your looking at him with something other than hatred burning in your eyes. Nothing more than a kind word and at every turn you've denied him and hurt him. You have shattered the son who only wanted to love you. Let him go before you do irreparable harm, I beg you."

"He's betrayed me for the last time."

"Betrayed you?" she asked, aghast at his reasoning. "Father, you can't believe that? All he's tried to do is stay out of your sight. Away from your notice. He cringes any time your name is brought up. If you'd stop being so blind for one minute, you'd see that he has never mixed with people and he has never betrayed you."

"He was a prostitute!" he roared.

"He was a boy who had to eat, Father. Thrown away by his own family. Betrayed by the ones who should have protected him from harm. I was there when he was born and I remember how all of you turned away from him. Do you? Do you even recall when you broke his arm? He was only two years old and could barely speak. He reached for you to hug you and you knocked him away so forcefully that you broke his arm like a twig. When he cried out, you slapped him for it and walked away."