Acheron (Dark-Hunter #15)(36)
Author: Sherrilyn Kenyon

Please. That was the last thing he needed.

Stretching, Acheron sat up in bed. It was later than he normally rose. He preferred to get up before the rest of the household and tend his needs without fear of running into anyone.

That being said, it was late enough that everyone should now be about their business.

He grabbed his clothes and razor and headed down to the bathing room. Luckily the large room was empty. As always, he placed his razor by the basin on the wall and hung up his clothes.

Naked, he descended to the steps to take him into the heated water that felt incredible against his skin. The pool was waist deep unless he sat in it and as large as a dining table. Acheron went down on his knees and leaned back to wet his cropped hair so that he could wash it. Closing his eyes, he sighed contentedly. This was the best part of his day.

He rose up and reached for the soap, then froze as he realized he was no longer alone.

Nefertari was there, staring at him with a heated look he knew all too well.

Acheron withdrew his hand and stepped back in the pond. "Forgive me, my lady. I didn’t mean to intrude on your time."

She watched him like a cat eyeing a mouse and when he reached for a towel, she stopped him. "How is it you’re so much more handsome than your twin brother?" She pulled the pin from her gown and let it fall to her feet. Her nude body was beautiful, but he wanted no part of it.

Acheron bolted from the pool, but she blocked his way to the door. "I need to leave."

Laughing, she wrapped herself around him. "No, you don’t." She nipped his chin with her teeth.

"I’m involved with someone."

"So am I."

Acheron tried to pry her loose but short of hurting her, there wasn’t much he could do as she grabbed at him. Wrenching himself from her grasp, he started away only to step on the soap where he’d left it by the pool. He hit the ground hard enough to knock the breath out of him.

Nefertari was on him in an instant. "Make love to me, Acheron."

He rolled over with her, and just as he was rising, the door swung open.

The blood drained completely out his face as he saw Styxx and his entourage there. They drew up short, their eyes not missing a single detail.

Acheron cursed as he realized how damning this looked. How damning it was.

Nefertari started screaming and slapping at him. "Don’t rape me. Please!"

Sick to his stomach, he rolled away from her. She scrambled away and rushed to Styxx where she cried as if her heart were broken. "Thank the gods that you came when you did. It was terrible."

Styxx handed her over to his guards.

Acheron rose slowly to his feet to face his twin whose fury was so great his cheeks were mottled with red. He knew better than to even try to explain. Styxx would never believe him.

So he let them take him. They hauled him down to the cells under the palace. Acheron grimaced as he was wedged into a hole that brought back "fond" memories. He wrapped his arms around himself, trying to banish the chill. But nothing could warm the one on his soul that dreaded what they were going to do to him after this.

"Artemis?" he breathed her name quietly.

He could feel her presence even though he couldn’t see it. "What are you doing in here?"

"I’ve been accused of rape."

He felt a severe pressure on his neck as if she were choking him. "Did you?"

He coughed. "You know better."

The pressure withdrew. "Then why are you here?"

"They won’t believe my innocence and I swear on my soul that I didn’t touch her. I . . . I need your help."

"With what?"

He looked up to where there was only a shadowed image of her and spoke the one thing he wanted most in life. "Kill me."

"You know I won’t do that."

"They’re going to geld me, Artemis. Do you understand that?"

"I’ll fix it."

Acheron laughed bitterly. "You’ll fix it. That’s your answer?"

"Well, what would you have me do?"

"Kill me!" he shouted.

"Don’t be so melodramatic."

"Melodramatic? They’re going to chain me down, cut open my scrotum and remove my testes and then crush the channel. All while I feel every move they make and I can assure you they won’t be gentle. How the f**k is that melodramatic?"

She scoffed at his anger. "And I will repair you afterward. So there’s nothing for you to worry about."

Aghast at her attitude and dismissal, he felt her withdraw from him. Wanting to kill all of them, he banged his head against the stone wall.

I should have fought them . . .

But honestly what good would it have done him? They would have outnumbered him and beat him down until there was nothing left to fight with. Then he would have been dragged in here anyway.

Repulsed by his life, he wasn’t sure how much time had passed before the guards returned to get him. He was dragged out of the room and shackled, then taken to his father’s throne room. Naked, Acheron was forced to his knees in front of Styxx, his father and Nefertari who was still weeping.

The king glared at him unmercifully. "I find myself in a dilemma. The crime you’ve committed is punishable by death. But since I can’t do that, we’ve decided to castrate you. No doubt it’s what we should have done at your birth."

Acheron laughed at the irony. "That would have been too merciful an act for you. Not to mention how angry your brother would have been had you neutered his favorite toy."

His father came off the throne with a violent shout.

Acheron didn’t so much as flinch. "Don’t be so angry, Father. It’s not like you didn’t know what Estes did to me. In fact his greatest dream was for you to die and leave Styxx with him too so that he could have us both in his bed at once."

His father’s curses echoed in his ears as the man set on him with the wrath of the Furies. The first blow caught Acheron across his jaw. The next broke his nose and set it to throbbing viciously. Blow after blow rained down on him.

Acheron welcomed every one of them as he continued to taunt the king. At best his father would kill him. At the very least he’d be knocked senseless enough to not feel the full pain of what they were going to do to him.

"Father, please!" Styxx said, hauling him back. He turned on Acheron who was lying on his side. "You are nothing but filth." Styxx kicked his side so hard that he heard his ribs snapping. The force of it rolled him over onto his back. Styxx’s next kick landed solidly between his legs.

Acheron cried out at the unbearable pain as his brother repeatedly kicked him there until he was sure he no longer needed gelding.

"Fetch the physician," his father roared. "Let’s see this bastard finished."

Panting in an effort to get breath into his abused body, Acheron was placed on a cold slab of stone, his arms chained above his head while his legs were spread and chained. He leaned his head back and laughed at them. "If you’re planning a party, Father, you need to chain me face down first."

"Gag that filth."

One of the guards shoved cloth into his mouth. Acheron saw the shadow of the physician coming forward. He tightened his grip on the chains, bracing himself for what was to come.

But no amount of preparation could reduce the pain of what they did to him. Acheron screamed out in agony until his throat was as raw and bleeding as the rest of his body.

By the time he was dumped back in his room, he was spiritually numb-if only the rest of him was too. Unable to stand, he crawled across the floor to the small table where he’d left a knife from his meal the night before. Reaching up, he took it in his trembling grasp.

He was so tired of begging and he was tired of being hurt. Unable to stand another day of it, he sliced open his wrists and watched as the blood poured out.

October 25, 9528 BC

Acheron cursed foully as he woke up in extreme pain. Why wasn’t he dead? But then he knew. So long as his life was tied to Styxx’s no one would have mercy on him. Ever. Overwhelmed by despair, he tried to move only to find himself chained again to his bed.

He cried out in frustrated fury before he banged his head against the straw mattress.

A movement to his right drew his gaze and he went cold at the sight of the small woman who stood there. It was Ryssa, dressed in purple and gold.

She came forward and the look of pity and guilt in her eyes was enough to bring tears to his own. "I didn’t tell them," she whispered. "Styxx passed out and Father found you." Tears fell down her face. "I can’t believe what they did to you. I know you didn’t touch Nefertari. You would never have done such a thing to anyone and I’ve told them that repeatedly. They never hear a word I speak . . . I know it doesn’t help, but Styxx broke off his engagement to her and sent her back to Egypt. I’m so sorry, Acheron." She laid her head against his and wept quietly in his ear.

Acheron kept his own tears inside. There was no need to cry. This was his life and no matter what he tried, it would never get better.

Besides Artemis would fix him . . .

He wanted to shout out in bitter frustration and anger at the goddess’s cavalier attitude.

Ryssa stroked his cheek. "Will you not speak to me?"

"And say what, Ryssa? I think my actions speak loudly enough for even a deaf man to hear. But no one ever listens to me either."

She sniffed back her tears while she brushed tender fingers through his hair. "This is so unfair to you."

"Life isn’t about being fair," he breathed. "It’s not about justice. It’s all about endurance and how much we can suffer through."

He was so tired now. But no one would let him sleep.

Through the walls he heard Apollodorus crying. "Your son needs you, Princess. You need to go to him."

"My brother needs me too."

He let out a tired sigh. "No, I don’t. Trust me, I don’t need anyone."

She pressed her lips to his cheek. "I love you, Acheron."

He didn’t speak as she withdrew. Right now there was no kind of love inside him. Only anguish and despair and anger could be felt. Turning his head, he looked down at the stark white bandage on his wrist. They had it padded so that he couldn’t reopen the wound to finish what he’d started.

So this was it then.

Closing his eyes, he thought of his future. Of nothing changing. Of living tied down and beaten . . . forever.

He bellowed at the weight of his hopelessness. Then he fought his restraints with everything he had. But it wasn’t enough to break them.

He was never enough of anything.

Bellowing even louder, he took comfort in the throbbing pain of his wounds.

Ryssa came running into the room.

Acheron ignored her as he tried to break through the chains that held him down. "I’ve had enough and I want out!"

She gathered him in her arms to hold him. He tried to fight her, but he couldn’t. "I know, Acheron. I know."

No, she didn’t know. Thank the gods that she had no idea how f**king awful his life was. How much pain he lived with. How much rejection.

He slammed his head back into the headboard and finally let his tears fall. Even though he was a man, he felt like that same little boy who’d reached out for his mother’s touch only to have her backhand him. "Get me drunk, Ryssa."

She pulled back. "What?"

"For the love of the gods, get me something to make it stop hurting so much. Alcohol or drugs, I don’t care which. Just make it all go away . . . please."

Ryssa wanted to deny him. She didn’t believe in running away from her problems, but as she looked at him and saw the blood seeping from the wounds of his body and the tears in his eyes, she couldn’t turn aside this one request.

No one should suffer so much. No one.

Against her will, her gaze went to his groin. The blood there made her sick to her stomach. The cruelty of what they’d done to him had been beyond measure-the fact that both her father and Styxx took so much pleasure from their actions disgusted her on a level she’d never dreamed existed. She would never feel right about either one of them again. "I’ll be right back."

She ran to her room and grabbed the one bottle of wine that she had. "Nera?" she said to her maid who was dusting the chairs. "Could you get more wine and bring it to me in Acheron’s room?"

Confusion wrinkled the petite girl’s brow, but she knew better than to question her mistress. "How much more, Princess?"

"As much as you can carry."

Ryssa headed back to his room with what she had. He lay spread out on the bed with only a thin sheet covering him. Dried blood and bruises marred most of his body and the pain in those silver eyes stole her breath.

Aching for him, she wiped the tears from his eyes before she lifted his head and helped him to drink.

"May the gods bless you for your kindness," he breathed as he finished it off.

Nera came in with more. Ryssa traded bottles with her, then tipped it to Acheron’s lips. It wasn’t until the third bottle that he was completely drunk.

"Acheron?" she asked, afraid she might have given him too much.

He let out a long breath before his tormented gaze captured hers. "Promise me something, Ryssa."

"Anything."

"Don’t ever hate your son. Please." His silver eyes fluttered closed as he passed out.