Now a goddess offered herself to him. Any other man would leap at the chance. For that matter, any other man would already be naked.
But unlike the rest, he fully understood the intricacies of physical intimacy. Even though they asked and paid for it, some women cried at the loss of their innocence. Others cursed him and themselves. Some had even turned violent over the loss. A small handful rejoiced.
The problem was he didn't know which one Artemis would be.
"I don't want to hurt you."
She walked herself into his arms. "Please Acheron . . . I want to feel you in me when I feed on you."
"I really don't think we should."
Her eyes snapped fury at him. "Fine. Go then. Get out of my sight."
"Artie . . ."
It was too late. He was back in his room. Alone. "I'm sorry," he whispered, hoping she could hear him.
If she heard, she gave him no clue.
You should have slept with her. Would it really have mattered? He'd slept with everyone else. But the others had just been bodies for him to please. Artemis was different.
He loved her.
No, it wasn't as simple as that. What he felt for her . . . it defied love. He needed her in a way he wouldn't have thought possible and now he'd angered her.
His heart heavy, he only hoped that he could find some way to win her back and make her forgive him.
January 26, 9528 BC
It had been two weeks since Acheron had last seen Artemis and with the passing of each day, he grew more despondent. She refused to answer his calls.
He didn't even bother going to plays. Nothing could alleviate the pain inside him that wanted to be with her. All he wanted was to see her again.
Tilting his head back, he guzzled the last of the wine in the bottle he'd been drinking from. Angry and hurt, he threw it over the banister to let it smash on the rocks below. He reached for a new bottle and tried to pull the cork from it. He was too drunk to manage it.
"Acheron?"
He froze at the sound of the one voice he'd been begging to hear. "Artie?" He attempted to push himself to his feet, but instead he fell back to the ground. Looking up, he saw her in the shadows of his room.
She stepped forward, her face pale and drawn. Her left eye was swollen and there was the faint outline of a bruise in the shape of someone's handprint.
Rage darkened his sight. "Who hit you!"
Artemis stepped back, afraid of the man before her. She'd never seen Acheron drunk, but whenever Apollo drank, he turned violent. "I'll come back—"
"No," he breathed, his voice a hoarse whisper. "Please don't leave." He reached his hand out to her.
Her first instinct to run, she swallowed and reminded herself that she was a goddess. He was human and therefore couldn't harm her. Her legs trembling in reservation, she reached out slowly and took his hand in hers.
Acheron held it to his cheek and closed his eyes as if he were content to die now, as if touching her was the greatest pleasure he could imagine. He buried his face against her skin and inhaled deeply. "I've missed you so . . ."
She'd missed him too. Every day she'd sworn she wasn't going to see him, but today . . .
After Apollo's attack, she needed to be held by someone she knew wouldn't hurt her. "You look terrible," she said, frowning at the thick, prickly beard that had grown over his face. "And you smell bad."
He laughed at her criticism. "It's your fault I look like this."
"How so?"
"I thought I'd lost you."
Those anguished words touched her so deeply that it brought tears to her eyes. Falling to her knees, she shook her head at him.
Before she could speak, he whispered in her ear. "I love you, Artie."
Her breath caught in her throat. "What did you say?"
"I love you." He leaned against her and wrapped his arm around her neck before he collapsed and passed out.
Artemis sat there, holding him as his words echoed all the way to her soul. Acheron loved her . . .
She looked down at his face that was still incredibly handsome even in its unkempt state. He loved her. That succeeded in making her cry in a way she hadn't cried since she was a child. And she hated the fact that he could make her do this. She hated the fact that those words meant so much to her when they should mean nothing at all.
But the truth was the truth and she couldn't deny it.
"I love you too," she whispered, knowing that she could never tell him that if he were awake. It would give him, a mortal, too much power over her.
But here in this moment, she could tell him a truth that she wanted to deny with every part of herself. How could a goddess be in love with a man? Especially her? She was supposed to be immune to it. But somehow this mortal had crept into her soul.
If only he were a god . . .
He wasn't and it wasn't meant to be. He was human and not just any human. He was a slave. A whore who'd been brutally used by everyone around him. They mocked him and they would mock her for being with him. She winced at the truth. She had enough trouble with her credibility where the other gods were concerned. Should they ever learn about this, they'd strip her powers from her and banish her to the human realm.