Urian gave him a chiding frown. “In my heart, Geras is as much mine as if he’d come from my seed.”
His father grabbed a fistful of his hair and yanked him closer. “Nay, Urian, there’s a difference. I was there when you slid into this world, still covered in your mata’s blood. My hands were the first that held you. My face, the first you saw. Even before your mata’s. I held you every day of your childhood. I promise you that whatever love you have for that boy pales in comparison to what I feel whenever I look at you and your brothers and sister, knowing it is my blood you carry. Knowing my hands delivered you into this world, and that your welfare falls unto me all the days of my life. That it was my blood that caused you all to be cursed by the gods. You’ve no idea how much I hate myself for that. How much I hate my father. Not because he cursed me. But for what he did to my children, and theirs. And if your wife does not do right by you, I will see her throat ripped out. For her life is nothing to me, but your happiness is all.”
“I will make sure to convey your insanity to her, Solren, forthwith.”
His father winced before he kissed Urian’s forehead and playfully shoved him away. “You try my patience, pido.”
“Someone has to, Solren. Otherwise your head will grow too swollen to fit inside your helm. And you need that for battle.”
Growling, his father headed off toward the theocropolis. “I blame your mata!”
“She always blamed you.”
“And we both overcoddled you when we should have taken a heavy strap to your ass.”
“Now he figures that out?”
Urian arched a brow at Archie’s low tone as his brother stepped out of the shadows behind him. “Dare you to say that louder. And to your solren’s face.”
“I’m not you, Uri. Me, he’d put through a wall.”
Yeah, right. “He’s never struck you any harder than he’s struck me.”
“I would beg to differ. He was a much harsher parent prior to the curse. Ask Theo. There’s a reason why we curb our tongues and actions more than you younger assholes. Guilt rides him harder than you know.”
That Urian believed.
Archie grabbed him in his huge paw of a hand.
What the hades? When Urian tried to fight him off, he only intensified his fierce hold.
“Stop it, Uri, before I slap you. I want to see how much damage you took from Thia.”
“Why?”
“Because you’re my little brother and I don’t like to see you hurt.” Grimacing, he straightened his nose for him.
Urian hissed in pain. “Is it fixed?”
“Aye … you’re as pretty as my sister again.” He curled his lip. “That has to be painful.”
“Hurt less before you rebroke the bone.” Urian gingerly fingered it.
Archie scoffed at his irritable mood. “C’mon. Let me see you home.”
“I’m fine, Archie. Besides, your concern frightens me.”
“Then we’re even. Your stupidity scares me.” He slapped him on the arm. “You know where I am if you need me or a place to sleep today.”
Well, this night kept getting stranger and stranger. Baffled beyond his ability to cope, Urian decided to head home and check in with Xanthia. It seemed like the right and decent thing to do, given all that had transpired.
At least that was what his thought had been until he opened the door to his home and heard a most distinctive sound …
And he knew his daughter was far too young to be rutting with a man. Or his son.
His suspicions were foul enough. And he knew before he pushed open the door to his bedroom what he was about to walk in on. So the sight of his wife sprawled naked on top of another man didn’t shock him.
The fact that it was his brother-in-law did.
Only had it been Davyn would he have been more stunned. But the moment Erol’s blood-drunk gaze met his, he had an even more sickening realization.
This was why Archie had been so nice. So concerned about him. Xanthia must have made a pass at his brother earlier, and unlike Erol, Archie wasn’t a complete and unethical bastard. No doubt he’d wanted to warn him but hadn’t had the heart.
Instead, he’d offered Urian a place to stay.
Comfort for the fact that his wife was a whore …
“Wow … don’t I feel like an asshole. I turned down a queen so that you could screw an unscrupulous bum.”
Xanthia sat up and faced him without a bit of remorse in her eyes. Wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, she glared at him. “Is that all you have to say?”
Not really. His head rang with a number of insults. Insults that his tongue begged him to unleash. But his children didn’t need to be awakened to such violence against their mother. “Just for you to get your scrawny ass off him so that I can kill him. Not because I give a shit who you spread your legs for, but because he did this to my beloved sister, and I don’t want to traumatize our children. So as soon as he’s dressed, I’ll take care of him … oh, and after this night, dear Xanthia, consider us divorced.”
June 27, 9506 BC
Urian’s head spun while Bethsheba came in his arms with a shrill battle cry. Laughing at her enthusiasm, he sank his fangs into her throat and let her blood invade his mouth so that he could feed on her sweetness. There was something about whenever she climaxed that made her all the tastier to him.
He didn’t know if it was something about her adrenaline or if it came from her being a different form of Daimon. Whatever it was, she made his senses reel. Quickening his strokes, he lost himself to her cries and her scent.
“Majesties?”
Urian cursed in frustration.
Sheba went rigid in his arms as her climax was cut in half. First lesson he’d learned when he’d moved in with her—make sure she was done completely with her orgasm before he finished or there would be hell to pay.
She let out a shriek that challenged the elasticity of his eardrums as she flung a heavy gold wine cup at the hapless maid. Fortunately, the girl was used to dodging projectiles from her volatile mistress. “Damn it, Niva! What have I told you about interrupting us?”
Cringing, the petite blonde picked up the cup and deftly policed the wine before it stained the rugs and resulted in a beating for the girl for her carelessness. Which would have later caused a fight between Urian and his wife after he defended what Bethsheba viewed as a lowly servant.
“Forgive me, Majesty. But I have visitors for King Urian … his brothers are waiting for him.”
Sheba let out a frustrated breath as Urian gave her an apologetic grin. Stroking her intimately and deftly beneath the covers in an effort to placate her ire, he nuzzled her breast with his whiskers. “Sorry, my love. They have always been my bane.”
She yanked at his hair. “Should I have them beheaded?”
Urian laughed. “Tempting … but nay. They are my brothers and my solren would demand satisfaction for it. Let me see what they need and I shall spend the rest of the night making this up to you.” He pressed a kiss to her bare stomach and breast, then moved to slide over her.
She caught him and wrapped her legs about his waist, holding him between her thighs. “I will be here, naked and waiting for your return. Don’t take too long.”
“I’ll return, posthaste.”
With a precious pout, she released him.
Urian slid from the bed, washed quickly, and grabbed his linen shendyt from where his wife had tossed it earlier when she’d attacked him for her “dinner.” Raking his hair back from his face, he grabbed a lightweight robe and left their room, which had been carved from the heart of an ancient mountain that Bethsheba’s people considered sacred to the goddess they served as devoutly as his father did Apollymi. The dark stone walls were soothing to their eyes that Apollo had cursed them with and it kept the temperature cool.
Quite similar to Kalosis, the only real difference was that humans could actually access this home.
If they climbed high enough.