Stygian (Dark-Hunter #27)

For the first time, he understood what a trelos must feel like before he or she went on a killing spree. Because this, this was madness.

His breathing turned ragged as he fought down the urge to take her right then and there. Fisting his other hand, he forced himself not to move. He didn’t dare.

And that was the most difficult thing he’d ever managed in his entire life. Every single molecule in his body wanted to feed and take her. It was an innate need so overwhelming that he had no idea how he was able to resist it.

Tannis’s cheeks turned bright pink as she visibly grew more uncomfortable with each passing heartbeat. “I’m going to check on the children.” She practically ran from the room.

Still, Urian didn’t move.

He didn’t dare.

Xanthia licked and sucked at his arm, growling as she drank in a more and more frenzied pace. She began to claw at his skin with her nails.

Those sounds, combined with the smell of her rose-scented hair … all he wanted to do was bury himself deep inside her until he was covered with her warmth and scent, and lost in it.

Worse, he wanted to feel her lips on his neck. To taste her blood in turn …

Stop it! You’re not an animal!

No, but he felt like one at the moment. The demon in him slithered and salivated.

Until she sank her nails into his biceps and went completely still.

With a startled gasp, she looked up at him.

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.