“Of course.”
There was a raw, unfettered heat in her dark eyes that sizzled in the air between them as she stared up at him with a tangible hunger. “We came to pay tribute to the Deathbringer. I assumed one of such courage and skill would have to be Daimon.”
His father chuckled. “To answer your question, Urian, they’re an Amazon tribe of Daimons from the north.”
Even more confused by that, Urian glanced past her shoulder, to his father. “Amazons?” He’d never heard of a group of Daimons with that kind of loyalty before.
It defied all logic.
The woman answered for his father. “We were Atlanteans in service to Artemis when the curse came down from the sun god. When the goddess refused to go against her brother to help us, we turned our services and bows to whatever god answered our plea for mercy. Since then, my sisters and I have been on a quest to find others of our kind to help them and to put our war skills to any who get in our way.”
Urian related to that. He knew the stories of his own father’s panic in his quest to spare them Apollo’s wrath. No god had wanted to get involved for fear of what Apollo or Zeus would do to them.
“Who answered your call?” To Urian’s knowledge, only Apollymi had shown mercy to their race and dared to defy Apollo.
“The goddess Marzanna.”
He glanced to his father. “I’ve never heard of her.”
“She’s a northern goddess.” His father’s lips twisted with wry humor. “An interesting one, I’m told. Sort of a combination of Persephone and Hades, all in one. With the psychosis you would expect from such a mash-up. She’s the wife of Koshchei the Deathless.”
His father’s tone held a strange note that Urian couldn’t quite make out. “Have you met them, Solren?”
“Just once. As a boy. They were a peculiar couple who left quite an impression on my young mind.”
Urian’s scowl deepened. He’d never known his father to be so diplomatic before.
The woman smiled. “We’ve traveled a long way to meet the Daimon who dared strike back at the human vermin. Your courage impressed us before, but now that we know you’re not even a Daimon…”
Urian flashed her a taunting grin. “You’re overwhelmed? Impressed? Would you like to sample the fruit of Apollo?”
She laughed. “You are a cheeky one, aren’t you?”
His father let out an exasperated sigh. “Ever my bane. Never could curb or control that one. I blame his mother, completely.”
She smirked. “Yet I hear the pride in your voice as you say those words, Strykerius. You’d have it no other way.” With her hand on her sword hilt, she turned back toward his throne. “So do you accept our bargain?”
His father arched a brow. “To sell you my son?” He met Urian’s shocked gaze. “Let me think. Um, no. Never. Cheeky though they all are, I am attached to my sons. Especially that one.”
Good, because he didn’t like the place this conversation was headed.
At all.
“I will give you any price you name.”
His father shook his head and chided her. “Bethsheba, you could offer me the throne of Olympus and I would refuse it. I will not put a price on my children. As you said, you came here for a Daimon and my sons are still Apollites. Even if Urian were a Daimon, the answer would still be no.”
“But you have a dozen sons, do you not?”
“Ten.”
“Surely—”
“One son does not replace another. You obviously haven’t any or you’d know that.”
Um, yeah. Urian was exceedingly grateful for his father’s loyalty at the moment.
As she started back toward him, his father threw out his hand and encased Urian’s entire body with a bright blue glow.
“My lady, I said no and that’s my final answer. I won’t be swayed.” Slowly, his father rose from his seat and descended the steps to approach them. “Make no mistake about my sincerity. You fight for your people, as do I. But I would see my people and the entire world burn to the lowest pit of Tartarus to spare my children the loss of one single tear. Therefore, the thought of putting them into slavery to fight for you … unacceptable.”
She tsked. “Why don’t we let your son decide? What if I were to win his heart? Would you approve our marriage then?”
Urian gaped at her words. Was she serious?
“My sons are all married.”
A scheming light came into her eyes as she swept an appreciative look over his body. He’d feel a little more flattered if she weren’t treating him like a side of lamb on a feast day.
She smiled at him. “You’re Apollites. You can always take another wife, can you not?”
Technically, she was right. Polygamy wasn’t illegal or unknown among their people, especially after Apollo’s curse. They merely looked upon it as greedy. But so long as all the participants were agreeable to the arrangement and no one was slighted by it, financially or emotionally, it was legally, if not always socially, acceptable.
His father raked a look over him. “I suppose if he’s that stupid…”
Thanks, Solren.
“But,” his father warned, “he’s too young to be made Daimon yet. You are not to convert him.”
She smiled. “I don’t want to convert him, Strykerius. My tribe isn’t the same as your people. As you noted earlier. Nay … I want to breed with your son.”
Well, this wasn’t awkward at all. Discussing sex in front of his father …
What he lived for.
More than a little dismayed by their bargaining, Urian met his father’s gaze. “Have you nothing to say to that?”
His father stared at him blankly. “What? You want me to interfere with your sex life?”
Kind of. Urian was beginning to feel like a piece of livestock being offered up to stud. Especially as every one of them stared at him, and in particular, his crotch, as if they wanted a turn on him like he was their new favorite toy.
Suddenly his youthful fantasy was beginning to take on the sinister appearance of a nightmare—and these Amazons were turning from goddesses into the forms of bacchanalian lamiai.
“Well?” his father prompted at his delay in answering.
“Guess not. You know, being a breeder and all.” Of course, it would be a little difficult to accommodate her on that particular request to im pregnate her, given that he was sterile, but this didn’t seem like a convenient time to bring that up.
And she really didn’t appear to be in the mood to hear it.
Neither did his father.
So being the sole pork chop in the kennel, he decided to keep his mouth shut.
The pork chop image wasn’t helped a few minutes later when Bethsheba came up and grabbed the knot of his girdle to pull him out of the room.
Urian started to pass a look of “help me” toward his father, but given the fact his father had thrown him to the she-wolves, he figured it would be useless. His father seemed to think he should be enjoying the attention.
“Are you planning to diggle me in the street, or do you have a destination in mind?”
She smiled seductively. “Don’t you have a home?”
“I do, and it’s filled with a wife and two children who would be most upset to have you bang me in front of them.”
“You’re rather hostile about this. I’m beginning to think you don’t want to have sex.”
He gave her a droll stare. “You think?”
“You don’t?”
Was she serious?
“Not like this.”
That seemed to stun her into silence. At least she finally let go of the knot over his crotch.
Urian straightened his clothes. “Contrary to what you think you know about men, Bethsheba, we don’t like being treated like whores any more than a woman does.”
“Is it that, or do you feel threatened by a powerful woman?”
He laughed at her challenge. “Have you met Apollymi, or my wife for that matter? Trust me, you’re quite paltry in comparison. Powerful women don’t frighten me. I prefer them to weak ones.”
“Then why are you so standoffish with me?”
“Because of the way you’ve treated me. I’m not a bitch to bark at your command.”