Sherrilyn Kenyon - Dark Bites

Most of all, she couldn’t keep him from harm.

“Be careful for me, Ari.”

“Always, my goddess. You are the very air I breathe.”

Warmth spread through her at those words. For some reason, they were important to her.

Just like him.

As soon as they dismounted in the small town nearest the cottage where they’d been born, Galen pulled Aricles to the side so that he could whisper while Bathymaas looked about at the people who called Didimosia home. “Why is the goddess with us?”

“She wanted to see a wedding.”

Glancing back to where she waited with their horses, Galen grimaced. “She makes me nervous.”

Aricles smiled at his brother. “Relax. She won’t harm you.” He clapped his hand against Galen’s shoulder then returned to the woman he loved and adored.

Dressed in the finest white silk, she was beauty incarnate and looked extremely out of place in the mortal realm. For his brother’s wedding, he and Galen were dressed in their best chitons and chlamyses. But compared to her, they looked like the rubes Galen accused them of being.

Her ethereal gaze swept his body, making him even harder than he’d been. “Ari… It is so strange to see you in clothing.”

Aricles blushed as several people turned to stare at them with great curiosity.

Bathymaas frowned as she noted their reactions. “Did I say something inappropriate?”

“No, my lady. They thought something inappropriate.”

To his shock, her cheeks darkened. “Is this embarrassment?” she whispered to him.

“Do you want to fall into a hole where no one can see you, and take back your words?”

She nodded vigorously.

“Then yes, my lady. That is embarrassment.”

The most adorable scowl contorted her beautiful features. She leaned closer to whisper in his ear. “I don’t like this emotion, Ari.”

“Most people don’t.”

“How does one cope with it?”

“We keep our chins up and carry on with as much pride as we can manage.” He took her hand and placed it in the crook of his elbow so that he could lead her toward the local gathering hall his father had rented out for Perseus’s wedding feast.

Running ahead of them, Galen went in first, with his arms raised. “The party may commence! The most important person is now in attendance.” He grabbed Walla, one of the girls they’d grown up with, and carried her to a corner where the wine was kept.

Bathymaas arched a brow at Aricles over Galen’s words and actions. “Should I ask?”

“Mental defect from when I threw him out of our crib for stealing my rattle. We usually overlook it.”

Bathymaas laughed then froze… as did Aricles. Eyes wide, she swallowed audibly. “I found that funny.”

He smiled at her. “You have a most beautiful laugh.”

And that made her smile.

Realizing what she’d done, she quickly squelched it. Panic gripped her and that, too, made her panic all the more. As Lilliana had done with Caleb, Aricles had changed her. Greatly. He was so unlike anyone she’d ever known. So sweet and gentle.

Kind.

And the more he explained emotions to her, the more she knew she felt them. Especially whenever he was around.

But she would have to be more careful lest someone else realize that she was no longer without emotion. As the goddess of justice, she should never have experienced them. Ever. How could she be impartial or just with emotions clouding her judgment?

And yet, she liked what Aricles made her feel.

All of it .

Steeling her expressions, she allowed him to lead her to his father and introduce them. A much older and thinner version of the twins, he wasn’t quite as tall, but still she could tell where Aricles and Galen had inherited their good looks.

He offered her a kind smile. “So you’re the goddess who stole my boys from me. I can see now why they didn’t hesitate to follow you.” He gave her a quick wink. “Were I a hundred years younger, I’d have gladly followed you, too.”

She inclined her head to him. “Thank you, Master Praxis.”

“You made it!”

She turned at the happy male voice to see a shorter, younger version of Aricles and Galen. All the men in their family seemed to be virtual copies of each other. Same rabidly blue eyes and reddish-brown hair…

Same handsome smiles.

Aricles hugged his younger brother then introduced them.

Perseus bowed proudly. “My wife and I are honored by your attendance, goddess. Thank you for allowing my brothers to come. I can’t tell you how much I appreciate it.”

She glanced to Aricles, who was more like a father to Perseus than Praxis was. “I don’t think I could have kept them away… even with my powers. They are terribly devoted to you and your father.”

Blushing, Perseus ran back to his petite blond bride, who was as obviously in love with him as he was with her. Bathymaas watched as they embraced and he kissed her with the same amount of passion she’d felt when she kissed Aricles.

Suddenly breathless, she glanced at Ari and felt the peculiar wave of heat surge through her body that always hit her whenever she looked his way. In her mind, she imagined being the bride and Aricles running up to her with the same exuberance.

“Are you all right, my goddess?”

The concern in his voice made her weak in the knees. “I’m fine, Ari.”

He handed her a kylix of watered-down wine.

While Aricles spoke to his father, she wandered about the room, listening to people and watching how they acted and interacted. People had always fascinated her. They were so incongruous and unpredictable.

So very odd.

The music was lovely, and those who danced did so with carefree, happy abandon. It was only then that she realized Aricles never partook of such frivolous behavior. Unlike Galen, who hoisted a woman over his shoulder and twirled about with her while drinking from a silver kylix, Aricles was forever rigid and dignified. Controlled.

Circumspect.

He’d told her that it stemmed from the year his mother had died, when he was eight. Perseus had been just a toddler, and their father had been so distraught that he’d been unable to function without his wife. For two months straight, his father had lain in bed with drink, rising only to attend the most basic of bodily functions. All the upkeep for their farm, servants, and family had fallen to Ari’s young shoulders. His father had given him no chance to grieve himself for his mother while he took care of his brothers, but rather had thrown him into adulthood far too soon. And then when his grandfather had taken ill two years later, he’d been sent to care for him and his farm until his grandfather had died.

Barely twelve years old, Aricles had been alone with his grandfather when the man had taken his last breath. And all the funeral preparations had fallen to him, too.

It wasn’t until now that she fully understood what the loss of his childhood had meant for him. Other men his age were laughing and groping at the women around them. Dancing and singing with unfettered joy. They leaned up against others without thought or concern.

Like Galen.

Meanwhile, Ari stood sober and somber.

Except for when they were alone. Then he could be giddy and sweet. His eyes would light up with life and he’d jest with her as he helped her to understand humor and human ways.

As if sensing her saddened mood, Aricles started for her then was diverted by a small girl who was trying to reach for bread on the table. With a kind smile, he picked her up and helped her to get it then returned her to her feet.

The girl’s mother joined them and thanked him before she led her daughter away. Bathymaas stared at the woman’s distended belly. It was obvious she was about to have another child, maybe even tonight. She’d never paid attention to pregnant women before.