“As a supplicant, what sacrifice do you offer for this favor?”
Urian gaped. While Ash, like anyone else, could have moments of irritability, he’d never once seen him be a total asshole to anyone before.
Not even to his father, and Stryker had deserved it.
Wow, this was a side of Ash he hadn’t known existed. But then again, Archie and Theo had often brought out the worst beast in him, too. So he wouldn’t judge Ash.
Family was hard. No one could bleed you more or cut you deeper than blood relatives.
And the rigidity of Styxx’s body language and the fact that he didn’t pop Ash one said it all. Whatever was between them was bad.
When Styxx finally spoke, his words confirmed it. “My heart.”
Acheron scowled. “I don’t understand.”
Styxx took a deep, ragged breath. “I offered you my loyalty and it wasn’t enough. So in this, I offer my heart to you. If I lie or betray you, you can rip it out over and over again. Chain me next to Prometheus on his rock.”
Damn. Yeah, it must really be bad and then some.
“And what favor do you ask?”
“Let me go.” Styxx’s voice broke slightly on those words, and they brought a lump to Urian’s throat. “I can’t live here anymore, isolated from people. I just want to have some kind of peace that neither of us ever had a chance to experience.” He looked past Ash to Urian.
I feel you, brother.And he did. Better than anyone. But unlike Styxx, Urian had never really lived in the world of man. He didn’t feel at home there. It was too wide. Too open. Too effing bright.
He’d tried to live in the boathouse and it hadn’t lasted six months. Lucky for him, Acheron had taken mercy and allowed him to live here with Alexion. Otherwise, Urian would have gone insane.
Finally Ash answered Styxx’s request. “Fine. You’ll have everything you need to start over.”
Before Styxx could finish expelling a relieved breath, he was sucked out of the throne room.
Acheron turned around to glare at him.
“Where did you send him?”
“None of your business,” he growled.
“Okay then. Love our chats, boss.”
Ash didn’t say a word.
Alexion shook his head. “You know, Urian, I can’t decide if you’re the bravest person I know or the dumbest to taunt him the way you do.”
Urian snorted. “Neither, Lex. The answer to that puzzle is a lot simpler. I’m suicidal. Just don’t give a shit if he kills me or not. In the immortal words of Janis Joplin, ‘Freedom’s just another word for nothing left to lose.’ ”
And the one thing that Urian never talked about to anyone, not even Acheron, was the fact that his father hadn’t killed him mercifully.
He thought about that a lot. His father prided himself on the fact that he didn’t like to torture those he deemed worthy. Those he respected.
Worthy opponents, he put down quickly.
He only tortured those he thought of as weak and vile.
Which raised the question of why he’d chosen to slice open Urian’s throat as opposed to stabbing him in his Daimon’s mark. That would have been a quick and painless death. So fast, Urian wouldn’t have even felt it. He’d have been gone and Acheron wouldn’t have been able to put him back together.
Which meant either his father knew that Acheron would save him, and he would live out eternity, isolated from his friends, family, and home, agonizing over the loss of Phoebe, or his father intended for Urian to bleed out slowly, in agony, knowing his father had killed him.
Either way, his father was a cold, mean son of a whore.
