Page 11 of Styxx (Dark-Hunter 22)
Biting his lip, Styxx prayed that his father wouldn't fly into one of the legendary rages that his mother had whenever she fell too deeply into her cups.
"He was my only friend. He still is. You've no idea what it's like to have a brother like him. One you can trust who would never do anything to betray you."
His father was wrong about that. Acheron was the best friend anyone could ask for. Not even Estes could equal him.
Leaning closer, his father squinted at him while he held his chin in his hand. He turned Styxx's head so that he could study his face from different angles. "You look like us ... but are you really my son?"
"Father-"
"Don't speak to me!"
Styxx clamped his jaw shut as another wave of terror washed over him. What would his father do?
His father pulled the blanket back so that he could rudely inspect every inch of Styxx's entire body. "You look so human...."
Styxx wanted to scream as pain racked him hard whenever his father touched the areas of his small body bruised by Acheron's beating. But he didn't dare let his father know he was hurting when there was no obvious reason for it.
His father rolled him onto his back. Styxx's jaw quivered as tears filled his eyes. There'd been a good reason why he'd been lying on his stomach. His breathing labored, he watched as his father pulled the knife from his belt.
Is he going to kill me?
"But are you human? I have to know." Before Styxx could move or react, his father seized his forearm in a merciless grip then he violently slashed it open. Unable to hold back, Styxx cried out as blood covered his arm and soaked his sheets.
"Sweet Hera," his father breathed. "What have I done?" He clutched at Styxx's wounded arm, trying to stanch the blood flow. "I'm so sorry, Styxx. Forgive me, child."
His hands shaking, his father wrapped Styxx's arm with cloth he tore from Styxx's sheets then he pulled him into his arms and rocked him while Styxx silently sobbed. "Shh, little one. It's all right. It's all right...."
But it wasn't and Styxx knew it. From the moment of his birth, his father had questioned his parentage. If not in words, then by the unguarded glares Styxx would see whenever they were alone.
"It's not your fault, child. It's that demon bastard. He's to blame for all of this. He's the one who makes me doubt you. Every time I see his face ... It fills me with such violence."
Not just Acheron's face. It was his face, too.
His father cupped his head in his large hand and kissed his brow then his cheek. "You are my baby boy. The heir I prayed and sacrificed to the gods for. I know you are. I know it." Tears filled his eyes as he cast a suspicious glare at Styxx. "Aren't you?"
How could he answer a question when he wasn't sure either? His father sensed the very thing he knew for a fact. That he wasn't right. He wasn't normal. While Acheron had the eyes of a god, Styxx was the one who felt phantom pains from wounds given to his brother. He was the one who heard stray thoughts of random people. Heard the voices of gods much louder than Acheron did. He sensed other people's emotions and intended actions, even when they tried to conceal them, and he knew the weather without fail.
But the worst were the merciless headaches that plagued him all the time.
Maybe I'm not human....
In all honesty, Acheron seemed to be far more normal than he did.
"Answer me!" his father growled. "Are you my son?"
There was only one answer to give. Right or wrong. "Y-y-yes."
His father placed Styxx's head under his chin and wept while he continued to rock him. He didn't let go again until well after dawn. Then, he laid Styxx down on his bed and tucked him into his bloodstained sheets as if nothing had happened. Kissing Styxx's brow, he gave his shoulder a light squeeze then left him alone.
Scared and hurt, Styxx stared at the makeshift bandage his father had wrapped and knotted around his forearm. His hand shaking, he peeled it back to see what he'd suspected ... he was already healing from the vicious wound. By the end of the day, it would be almost completely gone, with only a scar to mark its location.
I'm not human any more than Acheron is.
And his father would absolutely kill him if he ever learned the truth of it.
August 30, 9541 BC
Styxx opened his bedroom door to find Acheron on the other side of it. He let out a relieved breath. "Thank the gods it's you."
"Why is your door locked again?"
He shrugged, not wanting to tell Acheron or anyone else about the midnight visit from the king. Since February, he'd made sure to lock and block his door every night lest he receive another unwelcomed surprise.
"What are you doing here?" Styxx asked, trying to deflect his brother's attention away from a question he had no intention of answering.
"I brought your present to you from Estes. You left it downstairs. After what happened last year, I wanted to make sure you got to keep this one."
Styxx took the wooden horse from Acheron's hand and offered a smile he didn't feel.
You deserve nothing until you learn how to conduct yourself civilly and with honor. His father's cruel words still haunted him.
"Thank you, Acheron." Styxx moved to place the horse on the chest by his window where he kept his collection of them. After last year's nightmare, he hadn't felt the same about his wooden horses. Instead of being a source of pride and pleasure, all they reminded him of was his father forcing him to burn the beautiful Atlantean horse Estes had brought him while his legs had ached from his beating and his ego from wetting himself. And all the while Ryssa had smirked in pleasure of his being forced to destroy his gift over his "insult" to her.
Sighing, he moved away from the chest. "A set of beads from us both."
Acheron scowled. "What?"
Styxx met Acheron's deep frown. "What what? You asked me what I got Mother for her birthday."
"No, I didn't. I only thought about asking you."
Styxx ground his teeth as he realized that he'd read Acheron's mind. You better be more careful. Such a slip around someone else could be fatal. "It must be our twin blood." That was always a safe bet whenever he was with Acheron. His brother accepted that explanation without question or malice.
Grabbing the small wooden box from his table, he took it over to Acheron. "You want to give it to her?"
