Stygian (The Dark-Hunter World Book 28)

by Sherrilyn Kenyon

  Her jaw dropped and quivered. The sight of his blood on her lips beckoned him even more. She licked at it, then reached up to touch his chin in startled alarm. “H-h-how can I see you? What are you?”

  Equally stunned, he gaped. “Pardon?”

  Squinting up at him, she drew a ragged breath and fingered his jaw. Her gaze was filled with incredulous wonder. “I was born blind …” She glanced around the room. “Until now, I only saw the vaguest of shadows. The irony of being banished from daylight was that I’d never seen it, anyway. Not that I was really old enough to remember those days.” Xanthia let out a nervous laugh as she returned her gaze to his. “You’re so beautiful. How can I see you … or anything else?”

  It was Urian’s turn to laugh bitterly at her words. “As you said, mibreiara, you’ve been blind your entire life. You have no one to compare me to. Believe me, I’m nothing special.” He moved to step away, but she caught his arm and kept him by her side.

  “Thank you, Urian.” Tears swam in her eyes. “There’s nothing I can do to repay you for what you’ve done for us … for me.”

  “Urian!”

  He grimaced at the thunderous snarl he knew intimately.

  The color faded from her cheeks as she shrank back into the bed. “Your solren?”

  Nodding, he grinned at her. “Wish I could say his bark is worse than his bite. Sadly, it’s much milder.”

  And before he could move, the door crashed open to admit one insanely furious Daimon.

  The expression on his father’s face mirrored one of Apollymi’s explosive tantrums that normally resulted in numerous dead bodies exploding around them in a brilliant show of Daimon powder or Apollite entrails. It was the type of fury that normally sent Trates scurrying into a corner for cover. And over his father’s shoulder, Urian could see Paris imploring him from the shadows to cover his brother’s ass.

  What the hades had happened now?

  “You’re the one who insisted your brothers go?”

  Hardly. He hadn’t given a shit, one way or the other. Paris had been the one determined that Davyn not go alone, and Urian had been guilted into joining them by his twin, who had wanted company for the trip.

  Once Urian was confirmed, Theo had been the first to insist, and then Ophie had piled on. After that, Theo had drafted Alkimos and it’d just escalated from there.

  Still Paris begged and pleaded with him in silent gestures he made behind their father’s back. There was obviously something going on here that he’d missed. Something very important to his twin.

  You know this is going to get your ass into all kinds of shit. Otherwise Paris wouldn’t be acting like that.

  Yeah, he did.

  That alone made him want to knock his brother’s teeth down his throat. Why did they put him in this position? Just once he wanted to be a traitorous ass and hand them over to his father for punishment.

  Sad to say, he wasn’t. And he hated that he had no self-loyalty. That his loyalty to them always took precedence over his self-preservation.

  Urian narrowed his gaze at his twin. Oh, you owe me, you flea-turd! He used his powers to project his thought to his brother.

  Paris blew him a kiss.

  Tempted to return it with an obscene gesture, or a knife throw, Urian forced himself not to react. “I’m not sure how to respond to your question, Solren.” Mostly because he didn’t want to lie to him.

  His father backhanded him so hard that for a moment he feared he might actually lose consciousness.

  Or a few teeth.

  As it was, he rebounded into the wall and barely caught himself against the chest there. The oil lamp rattled and almost fell to the floor.

  “Telamon lies near death. You’d best pray to the gods that he survives. You ever walk away from a battle again while your brothers are still fighting, and so help me I’ll gut you for the cowardice!” He grabbed Urian up by his hair and slung him toward the door. “You abandoned family for a stranger! How dare you!” He kicked him through the threshold.

  Because he knew no words would save him, Urian locked his jaw, put his hands up to his face, and prepared himself for the beating to come. Damn Paris for this. And for not warning him. This was the one thing that drove their father to insanity and Paris knew it. Thanks to Apollo and the fact that the bastard god had always neglected their father and put everyone and everything above him, Stryker couldn’t stand for them to ever make that mistake. Or anything close to it.

  Blood above all.

  Urian hissed as the blows rained down over his body. His father had no idea what he was doing. This wasn’t about punishing him as much as it was about lashing out at his own father. It was pure unadulterated hatred.

  And it stung him to the core of his soul, even through his armor.

  Mostly because he couldn’t protect himself. He refused to strike his father. For any reason.

  “Strykerius!” A wave went through the room, knocking his father away from him.

  Panting and weak from the blinding pain, Urian lay on the floor, shaking. He ached from head to toe while Apollymi materialized in the room between them so that she could glare at his father.

  “What are you doing?” she demanded. “Do you plan to kill one son because another was injured? In what rational world does this make sense?”

  His father pushed himself to his feet as sanity returned to his eyes. Finally in control, he knelt beside Urian and brushed his hair back from Urian’s stinging cheek, eye, and jaw so that he could cup his face and survey the damage he’d wrought. “I’m sorry.”

  Like I give a shit.

  Pushing his father away, Urian rolled over and stood on legs that didn’t really want to support him at all. In that moment, he hated his father with every part of his being.

  Hated his twin even more. Damn them both for this. He’d done nothing to deserve it and he was tired of taking the brunt of their aggression. Tired of being beaten when all he’d done was try to help someone.

  “Urian …”

  Not wanting to hear it, he ignored his father, and he continued on to his room. He forced himself to close the door gently with his powers, even though he’d rather slam it. But the last thing he needed was one more ass-kicking tonight for violating another house rule.

  He was too weak to lose even as much as one more drop of blood. His breathing ragged from the agony, he wiped at his nose and spat the blood out of his mouth into the basin he used for washing, then rinsed his mouth. Damn, it hurt. That blood had loosened his fangs. Not that he needed them.

  Still …

  The air stirred behind him. He tensed, expecting it to be his father or brother.

  “Are you all right?”

  His breath rushed out at the unexpected sound of Xanthia’s gentle voice.

  Lovely, this was all his battered ego needed …

  The heat of embarrassment stung his cheeks and made his injuries burn even more. Grabbing a cloth, he wiped at his swollen lips. “Fine.” He glanced at her. “You should be resting.”

  “I wanted to check on you.” She swallowed hard. “I’m so sorry you were punished for saving us.”

  He shrugged. “Yeah, well, I assumed my brothers could fend for themselves. They’re gigantic, belligerent assholes. And were armed, to boot. You and your children weren’t. Don’t know why my solren’s so pissed off when he’s the one who’s always said that if we can’t defend ourselves against a bunch of pathetic humans, then we deserve to die. He’s drilled us every day of our lives to protect ourselves and fight against them.”

  “We were taught to live peacefully by their sides. That if we didn’t learn to fight, or carry weapons, they’d leave us alone and not cause us harm. We were farmers and shepherds. Not a warrior among us.”

  “Aye, I know. Davyn’s father was furious when his sister went to live with her husband’s family. He told her it was a mistake. That the humans would never suffer them to live in their world … if you lie down with a wolf, expect to get eaten.” />
  “He was right.” She took the cloth from his hand and used it to wipe at his brow. “You need to feed in order to heal. Who nurses you?”

  “I’m between donors.” It wasn’t exactly a lie. He just omitted the fact that there weren’t any living donors he fed from, but rather bladders in which his father collected the blood he forced his men to give up.

  “Then I offer my blood to you.”

  Stunned by that offer, Urian salivated at the mere thought, but he couldn’t do that to her. Not after everything she’d been through. “Xanthia—”

  She placed her fingers over his lips to stop his protest. “It’s the least I can do after everything you’ve done for us. My God, Urian … for the first time in my life, I can see! Please, let me do this for you.”

  Any thought of further protest vanished as she bared her neck to him. Maybe if he hadn’t been starving and emotionally raw he might have been able to find a shred of noble hero inside himself.

  But right then and there, he was in too much pain to turn away from the comfort she offered.

  He needed this. It was selfish, yet he didn’t care. Hurt and aching, he let the demon inside take control and sank his fangs into her flesh before he could find any shred of decency to stop it.

  And the moment he did, he growled as an inexplicable pleasure ripped through him unlike anything he’d ever experienced before. Everything became sharper and clearer. He saw color more vibrantly. The scent of her hair awakened a deep-seated hunger that went straight to his groin. Holy gods …

  No wonder Apollites and Daimons lost their minds. He understood that now.

  Sucking his breath in sharply, he barely caught himself before he lifted the hem of her peplos and sought to satiate the beast inside him. But given what the humans had done to her, he refused to use her like that. It was enough that she fed his need for blood. He wouldn’t take more from her.

  Not tonight.

  Even he wasn’t that much of an animal.

  Taking her blood was enough trespass. Still, he wanted more from her. She raked her hands through his hair, splaying them against his scalp as she cradled his head in her palms. Moaning deep in her throat, she wrapped her body around his, which really wasn’t helping him maintain his restraint.

  Urian licked and teased her skin as he tasted the warm blood he needed. It was so much sweeter than the cold, lifeless shit his father had provided for him. And he was all too aware of her soft, sweet body pressed against his. Of the way she rubbed those curves against every inch of him until he was ready to die.

  With a deep, starving growl, he pinned her against the wall and ground his hips against hers.

  Xanthia gasped, then reached down between their bodies so that she could cup him in her hand.

  The moment she touched his cock and began stroking him, he cried out as his body reacted against his will and he released himself into her palm. Mortified, he pulled back to meet her knowing gaze.

  But it was too late.

  She smiled up at him with a knowing gaze. “You’re a virgin?”

  If his cheeks heated any more, his head would ignite. He glanced away, too embarrassed to admit the obvious truth.

  Smiling, she kissed his lips, then nipped them so that his blood mingled with hers. “Anytime you’re hungry, Urian, I’ll be more than happy to feed you. Come and find me.”

  Shocked and amazed, he watched as Xanthia washed her hands in his basin, before she left him alone in his room to try to sort through everything that had happened tonight.

  Damn.

  Shaken. Dazed, and more confused than he’d ever been about anything in his life, he had no real handle on any of it. But he wanted more of what she’d offered.

  No, he needed more of this. The taste of her blood was still in his mouth. On his lips. Her scent still lingered in his nostrils and on his skin, making him even hungrier. His body began to stir back to hardness.

  Until another thought intruded and took precedence.

  He needed to check on one idiot brother and kick the ass of another.

  So he washed and redressed quickly, then went to find Telamon, who wasn’t quite as near to death as his father had led him to believe. In fact, it looked more like a flesh wound from where Urian now waited at the end of the bastard’s bed.

  With his legs spread wide, Urian stood, arms akimbo, glaring at Telamon, who lay there staring back at him. “I was expecting you to look more like a corpse, brother.”

  Telamon grimaced at the sight of Urian’s abused face. “Please tell me that I’m not the reason you look like that.”

  “Nay, Paris is. And when I leave here, he’s going to look a lot worse than I do.”

  Telamon laughed, then groaned in agony. “Don’t ever turn your back on a human, Uri. They’re treacherous little bastards! Thanatotic bitch was so petrified that someone actually fought back, he dropped his sword and fell over. I thought him dead, so the minute my back was turned, he rose up and I was stabbed with a pitchfork. Couldn’t even scramble to get his own sword back. Ah! The indignity. Rather have been pissed on and set fire to.”

  Urian laughed with his brother, grateful that Telamon wasn’t as close to death as his father had led him to believe. “Glad he missed your vitals.”

  “As am I. Though to be honest, I’m more embarrassed that I owe my life to Archie. Gah! I’ll never hear the end of that.”

  Shaking his head, Urian walked over and hugged him. “I’ll let you feed and rest. Really, I’m glad you’re all right. Hate you, but I’d miss you if you were gone. Wouldn’t have anyone to blame for my mistakes, then.”

  “Aye. Hate you back, you motherless, goat-humping dog.”

  Urian squeezed him hard, then yanked at his blond hair before he let him go. “Die in your sleep.”

  “You, too.”

  Natassa, Telamon’s wife, scowled at Urian as he pulled away from his brother. “I will never understand the bizarre relationship you boys have. You’re so mean to each other.”

  Urian grinned. “It’s brotherly affection, little sister. End of the night, we know we’d die for one another.”

  “Provided we don’t kill each other first.”

  Urian nodded at Telly’s words. “Exactly.”

  She shook her head. “My point. I’m so glad I have only sisters.”

  Telamon snorted. “Shudder that.” Then he glanced back to Urian. “Good luck with Paris.”

  “Don’t need it.” Urian closed the door and headed down the hallway to leave. In the front room he paused to watch his niece and nephew playing near the fire. Elias was a dead ringer for Telamon. Same golden-blond hair. Same dark brown eyes and chiseled cheeks. Meanwhile, Thesally was a much smaller version of Natassa. She was even dressed in a matching pale green peplos. And her blond hair was coiled around her small head in a similar fashion. Telamon was going to have fun guarding his daughter’s virtue in the near future.

  So glad I don’t have one of those.

  Walking over to them, Urian gave them a kiss and a hug before he left. His nieces and nephews were the best parts of his brothers. They reminded him why he loved his siblings, without the repugnant mouths that made him want to knock them through walls. He’d never understand what it was about his siblings that made them so repellent at times. Why couldn’t they keep their opinions and fists to themselves?

  Their children were precious. Perhaps that would change one day. But so far, he adored them.

  He prayed it was always so.

  Urian drew his cloak tighter as he headed down the street.

  Now to wreak mayhem on his twin.

  It didn’t take him long to reach the small cottage Paris shared with Davyn. Because Davyn hadn’t come from the privileged background Paris had, he didn’t feel comfortable in their father’s larger, more opulent dwelling. And servants made him downright nervous. To Urian’s eternal shock and surprise, Paris had actually managed to care enough about another person that he’d given up being pampered and catered to so that he
could move in with Davyn and live an extremely modest lifestyle. It still screwed with his head. Altruism was a foreign concept for any of his hedonistic brothers.

  Yet Paris was the one brother he had who never cheated on his partner. It said a lot about both of them that they were so committed.

  Urian opened the door without knocking. “Paris! Davyn!” He shouted only because he didn’t want to walk in on an awkward scene. One thing about his brothers—none of them were particularly circumspect.

  Not that he needed to have bothered.

  The cottage was empty.

  Fine. Little shit must be in the main hall still, bragging over his exploits and battle skills. That was good, then. He could use an audience to witness the beating he planned to give his brother.

  With his temper mounting, Urian headed for it.

  Sure enough, he found the two of them in the circle of Daimons and Apollites, with Paris bragging as he’d expected. And demonstrating some of his “techniques.”

  Urian’s gaze narrowed. Growling deep in his throat, he ran forward. The crowd parted as he went straight for Paris. His brother turned. He caught Paris about the waist and raised him up so that he could body-slam him to the ground.

  “What the Tartarus, Urian!” Paris punched at his throat.

  Urian was too furious to care as he returned the blows with his own counterstrikes.

  Paris tried to flip him over his head. Urian wasn’t having any of it. All he wanted was his brother’s blood.

  “You lying sack of scytel!” His need for vengeance mixed with his bloodlust. And it drove him to a new level of anger that his own twin had fed him to their father.

  One moment they were slugging it out on the floor.

  The next they were hanging in the air.

  “What is this madness that has possessed you?” their father demanded, hands on hips where he watched from below.

  Urian squirmed in an effort to break his hold. “Ananke and Lyssa!”

  His father gave him a droll grimace that said he didn’t appreciate Urian’s blaming his outburst on the goddesses of compulsion and rage.

  “You’re not funny, pido! And I’m not amused. This is twice tonight that you’ve sorely tried my patience. Were I you, I wouldn’t press me for a third.”