“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 tothat?”
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 abreederand all.” Of course, it would be a little difficult to accommodate her on that particular request to impregnate 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.
