She pulled back.
He caught her hand in his and held it gently. "I-I didn't mean it that way. I merely worry that you're here with no protector."
"I have my knife."
"And I admire that about you, but..."
"I come here often to sit and fish. Usually no one disturbs me."
No doubt the last thing she wanted was a cursed, bleeding whore to ruin the rest of her morning. "Forgive me, my lady." Styxx rolled to his side to leave.
"Hector? What are you doing?"
"I'll leave you to your peace. I know what it's like to need time alone and not have it. Forgive my intrusion on yours."
She placed a gentle hand on his shoulder and nudged him back down. "You're not intruding. Now lie still and let me make sure nothing's broken. If it is, I shall go get help and be back."
"I'm really quite fine, my lady. I've already limped and crawled a good distance. I just need a moment to rest before I continue on my way." Sucking his breath in, he placed his hand to his eye.
"What is it?"
"Nothing, my lady. I have headaches that plague me often, and as my luck would ever have it, I have one trying to cleave my skull in half right now. 'Cause I'm just not in enough pain to suit the gods."
She tsked. "Poor Hector. Here..." Ignoring the fact he was dripping wet, she lifted his head and placed it in her lap. "I've been told that I have a healing touch when it comes to such things."
He started to deny it, but the moment she sank her hands into his damp hair and began to rub his scalp, it lessened the agony immediately. The voices that ever tormented him grew so faint, he could barely hear them. Even her thoughts were hidden from him. It was so wonderful to hear nothing ...
Sighing in blissful peace, he closed his eyes and savored her sweet scent and her precious, soothing touch. For the first time in his life, even though he was wet, bleeding, and injured, he was warm and content.
He took a deep breath of her sweet smell and smiled.
Bethany paused as she realized Hector had fallen asleep in her lap while she played in his soft curls. Should I be offended? But then he was hurt badly. Even though he'd denied it, she had felt his numerous injuries and the blood that stained his clothes and skin. She could smell it.
As a goddess, she had the power to heal him, but refrained. It would make him suspicious, and even though he was nothing more than a mere human, she'd enjoyed their peculiar brief exchange. No one had ever been so preciously sweet with her. So considerate. Not unless they wanted something, and she despised such false people.
She preferred to be liked for herself, not for her powers or favors.
But that was the way it worked. People groveled, gods bartered, and she never had a moment's peace from their machinations and schemes. It was why she came here whenever she could to be alone with her thoughts and pretend for a while that she was normal ...
Whatever normal was.
Closing her eyes, she tried to picture what her mysterious Hector looked like. If she went into her goddess form, she'd be able to see him. But then she might be terribly disappointed. He was human after all, and she was used to the extraordinary beauty of the gods.
No. Better to use her imagination than risk finding out he was a hideous toad. Besides, if she appeared as a god in Greece, the Olympians would throw down a tantrum. Gods didn't handle other gods invading their territories without an express invitation well. And they had enough trouble with Greece. They didn't need a war to break out over some peasant boy and her curiosity.
She carefully brushed her hands over him. His face was finely boned and perfectly proportioned. He had a long aquiline nose and hair as soft as a bird's wing. It curled around her fingers and the manly stubble along his jaw teased her flesh. His lips were full and soft, unlike his body that was rock hard and toned. By the length of his arms and size of his hands, she could tell he was as tall as a god, or an Atlantean. But his accent had been decidedly Greek. His voice deep, husky, and pleasant.
Given that he was Greek, she shouldn't even be talking to him. While they were no longer at war with the Greeks, their truce was a very fragile thing and she didn't trust the Greeks not to break it.
Any day now, they could be back at war.
But her Hector wasn't a politician and he wasn't a god. No god would ever be stranded in the poor shape he was in.
He would need his horse to get home.
Using as little of her powers as she could, she searched the ether until she found it and then she called it to her. It took a few minutes, but finally the horse came and nudged her shoulder.
"You were wicked to throw your master," she said gently to the horse. "Try not to hurt him in the future."