Julian must have remembered his ancient Greek mythology because he turned out the overhead lights and turned on the small nursery lamp that bathed the room in a soothing dull glow.
Weak from his pain, Kyrian noticed that his reflection in the mirror was only barely there. An inability to cast reflections was one of the camouflage benefits bestowed on all Dark-Hunters. The only way for them to have a reflection was to force it from within their own mind. Something that was hard to do when they were wounded or excessively tired.
He stepped back from the white-painted dresser and met Julian's curious gaze. "Two thousand years of combat tend to take a toll on the body."
"You always had more balls than brains."
An eerie chill went up Kyrian's spine at those familiar words. He couldn't count the times Julian had said that to him in Classical Greek.
How he had missed his friend and mentor over the centuries. Julian had been the only man he'd ever listened to. One of the few men he'd actually respected.
Kyrian rubbed his arm. "I know, but the funny thing is I can always hear your voice in my head begging me for patience." He deepened his tone and adopted Julian's rougher-edged Spartan accent. " 'Damn, Kyrian, can't you ever think before you react?'"
Julian fell silent.
Kyrian knew what was going through Julian's mind. The same bittersweet memories that tugged at him at night whenever he paused long enough to dwell on the past.
They were images of a world that had long ago ceased to exist. Of people and family who were nothing more than vague memories and lost feelings.
Their world had been a special one. Its primitive grace a warmth in their hearts. Even now, Kyrian could smell the oil from the lamps that had once lit his home. Feel the cool, fragrant Mediterranean breeze blowing through his villa.
In an odd contrast to Kyrian's thoughts, Julian dug around the small first-aid kit for a modern ice pack.
Finding it, Julian popped the seal to release the cooling gel, then held it against Kyrian's shoulder.
Kyrian hissed as the ice touched his throbbing skin.
"I'm sorry about that blast," Julian said. "Had I known..."
"It's not your fault. You had no way of knowing I'd traded my soul. It's not exactly how I start out conversations. Hi, I'm Kyrian. I have no soul. What about you?"
"You're not funny."
"Sure I am, you just never appreciated my sense of humor."
"That's because you would only let it out when we were one step away from death."
Kyrian shrugged, then wished he hadn't as pain sliced down his arm. "What can I say? I live to tease old Apollyon." Kyrian took the pack out of Julian's hand and stepped back. "So what happened to you? I was told Scipio had you and your family assassinated."
Julian scoffed. "You know better. It was Priapus who killed my family. After I found them dead, I had a 'Kyrian' moment where I went after him."
Kyrian arched a brow at that. To his knowledge, Julian had never had an impulsive moment in his entire life. The man was forever calm and collected, no matter the turmoil. It had been one of the things Kyrian liked best about him. "You did something rash?"
"Yes, and I paid for it." He folded his arms over his chest and he met Kyrian's gaze. "Priapus cursed me into a scroll. I spent two thousand years as a sex slave before my wife freed me."
Kyrian exhaled in disbelief. He had heard of such curses. The pain of them was excruciating and his proud friend must have had a hard time of it. Julian had never been one to let anyone rule his life. Not even the gods.
"And you called me insane," Kyrian said. "At least I only antagonized the Romans. You went after the pantheon."
Julian handed him a tube of burn ointment. When he spoke, his voice was low and thick. "I was wondering, after I left, what happened to..."
Kyrian looked up and saw the agony in Julian's eyes, and he knew what was too painful for his friend to even mention.
Even now, he could feel his own grief over the death of Julian's son and daughter. With blond hair and rosy cheeks, they had been beautiful and vivacious beyond description.
They alone had made Kyrian's heart ache with envy.
Gods, how he'd wanted his own children, his own family. Every time he'd seen Julian at home, he had yearned to have such a life.