Acheron pushed past me, out of the stadium. With every step he took, he was dogged by offers and invitations. Even once he'd replaced his cowl, people didn't stop calling out and pursuing him through the street.

I hurried after him.

"Don't be like that," a man said as he trailed behind Acheron. "I would make you a most beneficial mentor."

"I have no need of a mentor," Acheron said as he continued walking.

The man grabbed him roughly. "What do you want?"

"I want to be left alone."

The man lowered Acheron's cowl. "Tell me your price. I'll pay anything to have you."

That hollow, empty stare came into Acheron's eyes as he shoved the man away from him.

"What is this?"

My blood went cold as I recognized the hostile, demanding voice of my father. I'd been so intent on Acheron and the unknown man that I had failed to realize Father and his entourage were traveling past.

Now Father's full attention was riveted on Acheron whose face had turned to stone.

Father roughly snatched the cowl back over Acheron's head and shoved him toward his guards who were ordered to take him into custody. Acheron was escorted back to the palace where Father had him beaten for his disobedience.

I tried to mitigate the punishment, but Father wouldn't listen. They dragged Acheron into the courtyard outside my father's throne room that was reserved for punishment. The guards stripped Acheron bare and delivered sixty-five strokes to his back. I couldn't watch, but I heard every whistle of the whip as it traveled through the air and every lash that cut through his flesh.

Acheron would grunt and several times I heard him fall, only to have my father order the guards to make him stand again. Never once did he cry out.

When it was finally over, I turned to see Acheron leaning against the post, bleeding, his hands still securely tied. The guards threw a coarse blanket over him before his ropes were cut and he was dragged back to his room and locked inside.

All I could do was hold Acheron afterward. For once, he didn't turn me away. He lay with his head in my lap as he used to do when we were children. When he would beg me to tell him why his parents hated him so.

I waited for someone to come and tend his ravaged back.

No one did.

It was only later that I learned Father had forbidden it. So I sat with Acheron for hours, holding his head as he quietly wept from the pain.

But whether he cried from the throbbing wounds of his back or the deeper ache in his heart, I didn't know. Gods, how I wanted to take him back to that day in the orchard when it'd been just the three of us playing and laughing. Away to some place where he could be free and lackadaisical, where he'd be a normal boy of nineteen as he should have been.

When he finally fell to sleep, I continued to brush my hand through his golden hair as I stared at the ragged welts on his back. I couldn't imagine a pain so severe.

"I love you, Acheron," I whispered, wishing my love was enough to spare him from this.

December 10, 9529 BC

After that day, I never spoke again of the fact I knew Acheron continued to slip out of the palace to go to plays. Many days I followed him just to make sure no one bothered him. That no one knew what it was he did.

He kept to the shadows, his identity and beauty carefully guarded. His head was always hung low, his gaze on the ground as he passed through the unsuspecting crowds.

Acheron risked much to go. We both knew it. I'd asked him once why he dared so much and he'd told me simply that it was all that comforted him.

He liked to watch the characters in the plays. Liked to pretend he was one of them. How could I fault him for that when so little brought joy to his life?

As my union with Apollo drew critically near, I spent more and more time in Acheron's chambers. He alone didn't treat the event as some magical moment that I should be anticipating with relish and enthusiasm.

He saw it for the horror it was.

I too was being whored. Only Father saw my whoredom as noble and wonderful.

"Will it hurt much when he takes me?" I asked Acheron as we sat on his balcony that overlooked the sea below.

I was on the ground while Acheron sat up on the banister as he always did. He balanced precariously over the edge of it which dropped down to the raging sea.

I was terrified of heights, but he seemed oblivious to the danger.

"It depends on Apollo and his mood. It always depends on your lovers and how much force they use. How much pleasure they take from causing you pain."

That didn't comfort me since I couldn't control someone else's mood. "Was it painful your first time?"

He nodded subtly, his eyes blank. "At least you won't have an audience when he violates you."

"Did you?"

He didn't answer, but then he didn't have to. His expression told me that he had.

My heart aching for him and the horror he must have known, I looked down at the cord I was twisting in my hands. "Do you think Apollo will hurt me?"

"I don't know, Ryssa." His tone showed his impatience. He always hated talking about intercourse. Then again, he hated talking, period.

But I had to know what was coming and no one else would speak to me of such things. I met his swirling gaze. "Just how painful can it be?"

He glanced away, out toward the sea. "Try not to think about it. Just close your eyes and imagine that you're a bird. Imagine that you live high up in the clouds and that there's nothing that can touch you there. You're free to fly anywhere you want to go."

"Is that what you do?"

"Sometimes."

"And others?"

He didn't respond.

So we sat there in silence, listening to the waves below crash against the rocks. For the first time, I finally understood some of his pain. His humiliation. I wanted no part in my future and yet I had no choice.

As I listened to the waves, it reminded me of the time we'd spent alone when he was younger. Of the hours he used to spend on the rocks, listening to the sea and the voices that called out to him. "Do you still hear the gods' voices, Acheron?"

He nodded.

"Do you hear them now?"

"Yes."

Years ago, he'd told me they were the gods calling out to him. Telling him to come home. "Do you ever think of doing what they say?"

He shook his head. "I never want to go back to Atlantis. I hate it there."

I could well understand that and it made me wonder how much more he must hate it here. Sorrow always followed him and it was never his fault. How awful not to be able to show your own face for fear of people assaulting you. Everywhere he went, everyone who came near wanted him with a desperation that made no sense.

Even I desired him. I was only grateful that he couldn't feel those impure thoughts that came to me at the worst possible times.

But unlike the other people in his life, I would never act on them. He was my brother and I only wanted to protect him. Unlike the rest of my family, he saw the real me and loved me in spite of my faults. Just I as loved him in spite of his.

"Will you go with me tomorrow to the temple?" I asked quietly.

He looked startled by the question.

"Please, Acheron. I'm so scared of what they're planning. I don't want to be the mistress of a god. I've never been touched by any man. Never been kissed. I don't think I have the courage for this."

"It's not hard, Ryssa. Just lie there and act as if you like it."

"And if I don't?"

"You pretend you do. He'll be so intent on his own pleasure that he'll never even notice if you're grimacing or crying. Just tell him how skilled he is and how good it feels. That's all that matters."

I reached up from my place on the ground and took his hand in mine. I stared at the strength of his tanned tendons. He'd been through so much. Truly, I had no right to complain or bemoan my fate. No one had ever been there to comfort him through the terrors of his life.

But I wasn't as strong as Acheron. I couldn't do this alone. I wanted . . . no, I needed someone to be there. Someone I could trust to tell me the truth and to see tomorrow for the horror that it was. "Please come with me."

There was still reservation in his eyes. He didn't want to do this, but he nodded anyway.

Grateful, I kissed his hand and held it tightly in mine. He alone understood my fears. Knew what it felt like to be sold against his will.

In this we were kindred spirits.

December 11, 9529 BC

I'd tried my best to sleep, but it was fitful at best. This was to be the worst day of my life. Today, my own father would tie me to a god . . .

When it was time to leave for the temple, I found Acheron in the hallway outside my room wearing the bland colored peplos he used to visit the plays. As always, it was pulled up over his head to shield him from others.

It was good of him to come with me when I knew he didn't want to. I wanted to hold his hand for courage, but didn't dare for fear of drawing attention to him. The last thing I wanted was for him to be hurt again because of me.

Without a word, he followed me and my maidservants as we left the palace. I thought Father would meet me outside, but I was told he was already at the temple.

I hesitated there in the street as my courage fled and left me on trembling legs.

Turning back, I met Acheron's gaze. "Should I run?"

"They always brought me back whenever I tried and made me very sorry for the attempt."

My stomach cramped even more as I remembered the time I'd taken him from Atlantis. He'd told me then that he would be punished for my actions, but not once had he ever told me how. "What did Uncle do to you after I took you from-"

He placed his hand over my lips and shook his head. "You don't ever want to know."

I stared up into his silver eyes and saw the pain that was there and it was then I fully understood why he hadn't left behind the life our uncle had taught him. I remembered what he'd said to me at the brothel.

Without skills there was nothing either one of us could do. No way to support ourselves.

"I tried to find honorable work . . ."

His words haunted me now.

Acheron was right. They would find me and they would punish me.

Taking a deep breath for courage, I turned and headed toward the temple district.

There was a crowd waiting for me there to cheer the fact that I was being sold against my will to a god. Six young girls stood with baskets of white and red rose petals in their hands. They scattered them before my feet as they led me toward Apollo's temple.

At the door, I met my father. He smiled at me until his gaze went past my shoulder to see my tall "guard."

A snarl curved his lips. "What is he doing here?"

"I asked him to come."

Father shoved Acheron back. "He's not allowed here. He's unclean."

"I want him here."

"No!"

I looked back to see Acheron lift his chin as if the words didn't hurt him, but I saw the pain in his gaze.

"I shall wait outside for you, Ryssa."

Father made a disgusted noise and I knew it was only fear of making a scene before Apollo that kept him from doing anything. However, there would be punishment for Acheron later. Of that I had no doubt.

I held my hand out to my brother, but Father shoved me toward the door. Tears gathered in my eyes as I choked. I wanted to call Acheron to my side, but couldn't get my voice to cooperate.

Acheron drifted away, into the crowd.

I wanted to see him. I needed his strength, but there was nothing I could do.

Against my will, they drew me into the temple and to a destiny I wanted no part in . . .

Acheron

9529 BC-7382 BC

December 11, 9529 BC

Acheron turned away from Apollo's temple. Impotent anger roiled through him. He was so tired of being reminded of his place in this world.

Being reminded he was nothing.

No doubt his father would punish him later for this. Not that he cared.

He no longer felt physical pain like the rest of the world. Too many days of being used and abused had left him hollow and unable to feel much of anything except hatred and anger.

Those two emotions burned inside him constantly.

He'd been made a whore against his will and now it was held against him as if he'd had a choice in the matter. As if he enjoyed being groped and fought over.

So be it.

Seeking some sort of vengeance on the ones who had cursed him to this fate, he found himself heading into the temple across the street from Apollo's.

It was empty. Most likely the occupants and caretakers were all across the street to witness his sister's sacrifice.

Fucking pigs.

There was nothing people loved more than to watch someone else being humiliated, especially royalty. It gave them a sense of power. A sense of superiority. But in the back of their minds, they all knew the truth. They were just grateful it wasn't them being degraded.

He walked down the center aisle that was framed by huge columns that stretched up toward the heavens. Columns that led toward the statue of a woman. He'd never been inside a temple before. Whores weren't allowed since the gods had abandoned them and mankind had damned them.

Defiantly, he lowered his cowl as he stared up at the carved image of the goddess. Made of solid gold, she was beautiful. Her peplos seemed to be rippling from an unseen wind and she held a bow in one hand with a quiver of arrows on her back. Her left hand rested on a tall poised deer that was brushing up against her leg.

He stared at the writing on the tablet at her feet, but couldn't read it.

He vaguely recalled Ryssa trying to teach him to read all those years ago when she'd rescued him. He hadn't seen a scroll or word since.

As he traced the first letter of the goddess's name, he thought he recognized it.

It was an A. Ryssa had told him his own name began with that letter.

He ran through his mind his limited knowledge of the gods and what he knew of them as he tried to think of one whose name sounded similar to his.

"You must be Athena," he said out loud. It would make sense since Athena was goddess of war and held a bow in her hand.

"I beg your pardon? Athena?!"

He turned sharply at the angry voice behind him. The woman was incredibly voluptuous with long, curling auburn hair and dark green eyes. Her beauty was natural and piercing. If he were capable of being sexually attracted to anyone, he might even have desired her. But honestly, he'd screwed so many people that he could live the rest of his life without another body under, over or near him.

Dressed in a white flowing gown, she stood with her hands on her curvy hips. "Are you blind? Or just stupid?"

He snarled at the insults. "I am neither."

She approached him with a narrowed gaze before she gestured toward the statue behind him. "Then how is it you don't know the image of Artemis when you see her?"

Acheron rolled his eyes at the mention of Apollo's twin sister. He should have known since the temples were so close together. "Is she as worthless as her brother?"

The woman's mouth fell open. She appeared shocked by his question. "I beg your pardon?"

Anger burned through him as he saw the tributes laid out on the altar before the imperial goddess. He flung his arm against them, sending them flying. Platters crashed to the floor while bits of flowers, toys and other offerings scattered and rolled over the marble. "Why do they bother when no one on Olympus hears them and if they do it's obvious they don't care?"

"Are you mad?"

"Yes, I am," he said from between clenched teeth. "Mad at this world where we are nothing to the gods. Mad at the Fates who put us here for no purpose except to toy with us for their petty amusement. I wish all of the gods were dead and gone."

The woman snarled, rushing at him. Acheron caught her hand before she could slap him.

She shrieked and something slammed into him, knocking him straight to the ground. Pain spread through his body.

An unseen force picked him up from the floor and flung him against the wall. The breath left him as he was pinned to the wall, a good ten feet above the ground.

The woman glared at him. "I should kill you."

"Please do so."

Artemis withheld the final god bolt that would have sent this human straight to Tartarus where he belonged, and let him fall to the ground. She'd never met anyone who didn't know her on sight. Never met anyone who couldn't feel her unearthly presence and god powers and yet this human seemed immune to them.

She watched as he pushed himself to his feet and stood defiantly before her. He was a handsome young man. She'd give him that. His face was flawless in its beauty. Dark blond brows slashed over swirling silver eyes that were searing with their hatred. No one had ever dared give her such a look.

His long blond wavy hair framed his features to perfection. It appeared softer than down and was every bit as inviting.

And his body . . . It was lean and well muscled. Tanned. Gorgeous. There was something about it that made her mouth water for a taste of him. Never in her life had she felt such an incredible pull toward any man.

More than that, he was taller than she, a mortal rarity that she appreciated.

"Have you any idea who I am?" she asked him.

"Judging from your anger and what you just did to me, I would assume you're Artemis."

So, he wasn't stupid after all.

"Then bow down and apologize."

Instead, he offered her an intense look that caused her stomach to flutter. He walked toward her with an arrogant swagger that made his entire body ripple like a panther's. A foreign aching need pounded through her. She didn't understand what she felt, but whatever it was, it left her breathless and weak.

He laid his warm hand against her cheek as he stared down at her face with those beguiling eyes that seemed to hypnotize her. "So, you're a goddess," he said, his voice thick as he boldly examined her. His pupils dilated . . .

Her stomach tightened even more. His nearness was searing. His eyes riveting.

She'd never felt anything like this.

Before she realized what he intended, he pulled her into his arms and kissed her.

Artemis couldn't breathe as she tasted him. Part of her was outraged that he would dare such, but another, alien part of her was thrilled by the unexpected sensation of his lips on hers. Of his tongue exploring her mouth.

His arms surrounded her as he pulled her closer to him.

Her head spun as he pulled back slightly and trailed his lips from her mouth to her neck. Chills swept over her, and at the same time an incredible heat built inside her. All she wanted was to pull him closer . . .

To feel every inch of his body.

He made an appreciative noise against her skin that made her ache. "You do taste divine."

He dropped to his knees before her.

"What are you doing?" she asked as he lifted one of her feet into his hands. She didn't understand what was going on. It was as if she had no control of herself. This . . . creature compelled her in a way that was wholly unnatural.

He looked up at her and her stomach felt as if it were turning over. "Kissing your feet, goddess. Isn't that what I'm supposed to do?"

Well, yes, but as he nibbled her instep she couldn't suppress a deep moan of pleasure. Artemis leaned back against the wall as his mouth worked magic on the sensitive tendons of her foot.

She'd never known such a rich, deep burn deep in her blood. And he didn't stop with her feet, he trailed his lips up her leg, to the back of her knee.

Artemis struggled to breathe.

Then he moved his mouth higher.

"What are you doing now?" she gasped as his warm breath fell against her buttocks.

"I'm kissing your ass. Isn't that people are supposed to do?"

"Not like that."

She groaned as he nibbled her high on her buttocks. She should stop him. He had no right to touch her like this and yet she didn't want this to end. It felt too good.

He nudged her legs farther apart.

With a mind of their own, her legs obeyed him. Artemis looked down to see him with his eyes closed as he tormented her with pleasure.

She felt his hands on her as he touched her where no man had ever touched her before. His fingers ran down her cleft, making her burn even more before he took her into his mouth.

Reaching down, she buried her hand in his hair as he tasted her.

Her senses went wild as she surrendered herself to him and the licks he gave that sent her careening to an unimaginable height. Every one sent a white hot shiver through her. Her throat went dry an instant before her body burst apart.

Artemis cried out as she experienced her first orgasm.

Terrified and embarrassed, she vanished.

Acheron sat on the floor in stunned disbelief. The taste and smell of Artemis permeated his senses. His body burned with aching need.

He'd never really tasted desire before. His body had always reacted to being stimulated by others or by drugs, but he'd never really wanted to touch someone.

Until now.

Now he wanted a woman . . . no, he wanted a goddess and that made no sense to him.

He laughed bitterly. "The least you could have done was kill me, Artemis," he shouted. That had been his only intent when he'd first approached her.

But the moment he'd touched her, he'd felt real desire.

Unable to fathom that, he wiped his mouth and pushed himself to his feet. Turning around, he looked up at her statue which bore no resemblance to her whatsoever. He gave her a sarcastic salute.

His body strangely hungry, he left the temple and made the long walk back to the palace alone. And with every step he took, his anger built even higher than it'd been before.

It was eerily silent as he walked through the marbled corridors of his father's home with no destination in mind. Everyone had gone to see Ryssa's sacrifice. He wondered idly if it would work. If Apollo's favor could be swayed from the Atlanteans to the Greeks,

Not that he cared. Neither the Atlanteans nor the Apollites had been any kinder to him than the Greeks had been.

All any of them wanted to do was fuck him.

Sighing, he found himself in his father's large and impressive throne room-his first time walking into it, since the previous times he'd been bound in chains and dragged through the doors.

His gaze narrowed as he saw the two gilded thrones at the far end. Thrones that should have been his mother's and father's, but since his mother had been banished for his birth, Styxx had occupied her place. Too bad the old bitch had died in her isolation. She would have loved to see her precious Styxx become King.

Styxx. His baby brother.

Acheron cursed. If not for his eyes, he would have been the one to sit to the right hand of his father.

No one would dare mock him then. No one would ever have forced him to his knees to . . .

He snarled at the memories.

It was so unfair.

He'd never asked for this life. Never asked to be born. Never asked to be a demigod.

He heard Estes's voice in his head. "Look at him. Son to an Olympian. How much will you pay for a taste of a Greek god?"

Acheron didn't even know who his father was. His mother had always protested her innocence over his birth and no god had ever stepped forward to acknowledge him.

Angered by that fact, he crossed the room to sit on his father's throne. The man would die to see him perched on it and that gave him an instant moment of gratification. His father would have it burned.

Perhaps he should let his father find him here. It would serve the king right to know a whore had fouled his beloved throne.

A whore . . . he flinched with the thought.

By birthright, this should have all been his. Closing his eyes, Acheron tried to imagine what the world would have been like had he possessed blue eyes like Styxx.

People would respect him.

Respect.

The word hung like a phantom in his mind. That was the only thing he'd ever craved.

"Don't you want to be loved?"

He opened his eyes to see Artemis standing in the center of the room, studying him.

"Everyone claims they love me." At least while they screwed him. Unfortunately, that affection ended the minute they came. "I've had more than my share of other people's love. I'd rather do without it for a while."

She frowned. It was a delicate expression that he found oddly sweet. "You're a strange human."

He scoffed at that. "I'm a demigod. Can't you tell?"

Her frown deepened as she drew near him. "Whose issue are you?"

"They tell me Zeus."

She shook her head at that. "You're no son of an Olympian. I would know it if you were. We can always sense our own."

Her words went through his heart like a knife. "Then whose son am I?"

She cupped his chin in her warm, soft hand so that he looked up at her as she stared into his freakish eyes. Eyes he'd hated all his life. Eyes that betrayed him.

"You're human."

"But my eyes . . ."

"They are strange, but birth defects are common among your kind. There are no god powers inside you. Nothing to mark you as divinity. You're human."

Acheron closed his eyes as pain assailed him. So he was his father's son after all.

It was the last thing he'd wanted to hear. A birth defect. A simple accident of birth had deprived him of everything. He wanted to scream out in anger.

"Why are you here?" he asked, opening his eyes to find Artemis still staring at him.

She ignored his question. "Why do you not fear me?"

"Should I?"

"I could kill you."

"I asked you to, but you didn't."

She cocked her head as if he baffled her completely. "You're very handsome for a human."

"I know."

Artemis scowled at his words. They weren't said arrogantly. Instead, he'd said them angrily as if his beauty bothered him. He was so unlike any human she'd ever met.

If she didn't know better, she would believe his claim of divinity. There was something unnatural about the desire he created in her.

But gods and their issue had an essence that was unmistakable. All she felt inside this human was hatred, despair. He hurt so badly that it was almost painful for her to be near him.

"Why are you so sad?"

"You would never understand."

Most likely not. Sadness wasn't something she normally felt. As for despair . . .

It was completely alien to her.

In all eternity, she'd never wanted to comfort a human. Today, she did and she didn't know why.

"Do you ever smile?" she asked him.

He shook his head.

"Never?"

"No. All it does is draw people toward me. Make them want me more."

"But I thought all humans longed to be desired."

Again he scoffed. "Do you know the Atlantean term tsolous?"

"Sex-slave?"

He gave her a blank stare.

Artemis gasped as she caught his meaning. "You're one of them?"

"I was."

Her vision darkened with the knowledge. "And you dared to touch me?"

"So will you kill me now?"

That made her anger falter under another wave of confusion. Who was this man who braved more than any before him? "If you wish to die so much, why not kill yourself?"

His lip curled as his eyes flared with fury. "Every time I've ever tried, I was brought back and punished for it. It appears the gods don't want me dead so I figure if one of you kills me, then I'll finally be at peace."

"Then it's not fated for you to die."

He came to his feet with a snarl so feral that Artemis actually took a step back in fear.

"Don't you dare say their name to me. I refuse to believe this was my fate. I was not meant to be this. I was never meant to be . . ." The pain in his eyes tore through her. "This can't be all I was born for."

"It's the fate of mankind to suffer. Why should you be different?"

Acheron couldn't breathe as her words tore through him. Over and over in his mind he saw himself and his past. Saw the horrors and degradations he'd suffered.

But the most horrifying thoughts were those of the future. Forever alone with nothing but scorn and abuse for company. Being forced to eat against his will, or worse, traded like nothing more than a sack of wheat.