Condemning.
Urian felt their judgment as if it were a living, breathing beast crawling all over his skin. And he deplored the sensation. Why couldn’t he be more charming like Paris?
Everyone loved and adored his twin.
Yet it seemed the harder he tried to be liked, the less inclined they were to do so. So he’d given up trying and had just reconciled himself to their hatred and disparagement. To his sullen solitude. It was easier that way. Better to reject them before they had a chance to slap him down and risk this sick feeling he currently had in his stomach that churned it sour.
“Don’t listen to him, Uri.”
He barely caught himself before he rolled his eyes at his father’s most commonly uttered phrase for these situations. Despite what his brothers thought, their father would backhand him if he showed any form of disrespect. Stryker wasn’t known for his patience with anyone or for brooking any form of insubordination or insolence.
Especially not from his children.
“Aye, sir.”
His father caught him roughly by the hair at the nape of his neck and forced him to look up until he met his gaze. There was a stern yet loving glow in those swirling silver eyes that now matched those of their goddess—a result of Apollymi’s having saved his father’s life that night when Urian had first met Sarraxyn after his father had almost died in a confrontation with Apollo. It was why his father couldn’t feed him anymore. Not without it converting Urian not only to a Daimon like his father but also bonding their life forces together and allowing his father to see through his eyes. To know his thoughts and emotions. Because his father held the blood of two gods, it gave him a lot more power than any of the other Apollites or Daimons.
Truly his father was like no other.
And neither was Urian.
“You listen to me, pido, and take these words to heart. Damn them for what they think. For that is something you can never control or change. What you do have authority over is your own reaction to their spiteful words, and they have no value in your world unless you will it so. The only opinions that should ever matter to you are those of the people you love. The people you deem worthy of your concern. To the rest, close your ears and close your heart. Because if they don’t care what damage they do to your life, then you don’t care what damage you wreak to theirs. Blood to blood. Fang for fang. Remember, Urian, a smart man strikes the first blow, but it’s the wise man who strikes the last one. Understand?”
“Aye, Solren.”
He pulled him against his shoulder and hugged him close, then kissed his head. “I love you, pido,” he growled deep against Urian’s ear. “Don’t you ever forget that.”
Urian nodded as he clutched his fist in his father’s cloak and held tight to him, grateful for his support.
With two powerful pats to his spine that left him bruised, his father released him and stepped back. “Now go. See to your business.”
“Aye, sir.” Urian headed for Paris and then slugged his brother so hard, it sent him straight to the ground.
“What the hades!” Paris sat up and rubbed at his jaw. “Have you lost your mind?”
Urian glared at him. “That’s for being an asshole. Find Davyn and don’t leave him again. Next time you’re this stupid, I’ll stab you for it, and take your boyfriend from you—you don’t deserve someone as good and decent as Davyn if you’re going to run off and abandon him when he’s unable to fend for himself.”
Paris pushed himself to his feet as Urian walked away. “I’m not the ass, Urian! You are!”
Without stopping, Urian scoffed. “You are wrong about that, adelphos! And you’d best make a sacrifice to the gods tonight that I don’t decide to one day embrace the demon all of you think lives inside me. I promise you, the day I let that beast out … you will all be running for cover.”
December 15, 9515 BC
“Baba! Do something! You can’t let Matera go and leave us!”
Urian wanted to echo his sister’s frantic words, and inside he was screaming just as loudly as Tannis’s whining drone, but he knew better than to say a word of protest out loud. For one thing, he wasn’t sure his father wouldn’t knock him through a wall for it.
While Stryker could be a loving and doting father, he never tolerated that kind of nasal complaining from his sons. At least not from anyone other than Ophion. For some reason, Ophie got away with bitching.
The rest of them …
I’m raising men, not boys. By the gods, you will be soldiers who do me proud. I will not stomach cowering dogs to represent my household in this world. I’ll see you to Hades myself before you embarrass me like that!
It was a common Stryker tirade they all knew well.
So Urian stood with a ramrod spine as his mother kissed their cheeks with tears in her eyes. “It’s for the best. Truly.” She swallowed hard. “I dare not stay here any longer. Not as the sole human among the growing number of Daimons in Kalosis.” She glanced nervously at their father.
Urian couldn’t blame her, and it spoke volumes about how much she loved them that she’d stayed here as long as she had, given how many eyed her with hunger in their eyes. Their father had turned Daimon almost eight years ago—which said a lot for him that he’d been able to resist feeding on her soul all this time. Because Hellen of Kalosis held one of the strongest spirits of any human Urian had been near. The warmth and conviction of her life force called out to the beast in him and made him salivate every time she drew near. It was only his own love for her that kept her safe in his presence.
And the fact that the rest of the Apollites and Daimons here feared his family, and knew what they’d do to any who harmed her, kept her sacrosanct and safe in their midst.
Yet she was right. Every single day she lived among them came with a growing risk.
Apollite marriages were ones of necessity. Given the brevity of their life span and the fact that they could only live off each other’s blood, they married young to start families as soon as they reached physical maturity, and so that married couples could supply each other with nourishment. Especially since feeding heightened their hormones to a frightening level after puberty and caused them to become extremely aroused anytime they ate. As a result, they were incapable of feeding from family members—another revolting bonus curse Apollo had thrown at them.
Even Daimons, like his father, had to feed on blood. While the human souls they took prolonged their lives, it did nothing to quench their blood-hunger that needed Apollite plasma. And since Daimons could no longer sire children after their bodies converted from Apollite to a living dead state, and Hellen had been unable to nourish her children with her human blood, their mother had served no purpose in this realm, other than to tempt Daimons to kill her for her soul.
Had their father loved her, it might have been different. Then he might have been willing to fight to keep her at his side.
But while their father respected her as their mother, his feelings went no further. Stryker wouldn’t allow anyone to disrespect her or speak badly to her or about her. Yet that was as much as he was capable of showing her in terms of affection. Theirs had been an arranged marriage forced on him by Apollo and one he’d never wanted. All of his children knew that. In fact, he went days when he wouldn’t even look in her direction.