House of the Rising Son by Sherrilyn Kenyon

made the breath leave her chest and her panic rise. Aricles lay on Malphas’s cot with four arrows embedded deeply in his chest.
    It took everything she had not to scream and run to him. “What happened?” she asked with a calmness she definitely didn’t feel.
    â€œApollo … god of archery,” Malphas snarled. “The battle was over when that bastard appeared in front of us and said this was his reward for our best fighter. Before we even realized he was armed, he shot four arrows into Aricles and vanished.”
    Her blood boiled as she ached to feel Apollo’s heart in her fist. How dare he!
    But her vengeance could wait. Aricles was all that mattered. He lay with his eyes half open as he panted in pain.
    She closed the distance between them and took his hand into hers. “Aricles?”
    Smiling in spite of his obvious agony, he met her gaze. “Sorry I failed you, goddess.”
    Her throat tightened as he made reference to his promise not get hurt during battle. Technically, he’d kept it.
    No one said anything about after it was over.
    â€œYou didn’t fail me.” Knowing she was about to lose her fight to hold back her tears and emotions, she glanced around at her men. “I need all of you to leave us.”
    Bowing, they obeyed.
    Except for Galen. His blue eyes swam with tears. “Will he live?” His voice broke on the words.
    â€œI promise you. Now go and let me heal him.”
    Nodding, he quickly made his exit.
    Alone with Aricles, she sank to her knees as tears fell from her eyes. Her hands trembling, she went to pull the arrows out, but he stopped her.
    â€œYou can’t, my lady. Their tips are barbed and you’ll only harm me more. They have to be pushed all the way through my body to be extracted.”
    She sobbed aloud at the thought. “I will kill that bastard for this!” she snarled.
    He cupped her cheek in his hand and smiled. “You’re showing emotion, my goddess.”
    She covered his hand with hers as she struggled to stop her tears. But it was a lost cause. She wasn’t the warrior he was. “There has to be another way to take them out and not hurt you.” Closing her eyes, she summoned her aunt Menyara to her.
    Petite and gorgeous, with caramel skin and black hair, her aunt was also the Egyptian goddess Ma’at … another goddess of justice.
    And one of healing.
    Best of all, Menyara was the only person, besides her father, Bathymaas trusted.
    Menyara gasped as soon as she saw her tears. “Child, what has happened to you?”
    Sobbing, she gestured toward Aricles. “Please heal him, Aunt Mennie. Please.”
    Her eyes widening, Menyara nodded without hesitation. She placed her hand to Aricles’s chest and then on the arrow that had narrowly missed his heart. “Take a deep breath.”
    Kneeling beside him, Bathymaas held his hand as he braced himself.
    Aricles nodded to let the new goddess know he was ready.
    She dissolved the arrow, but her actions burned him inside and out.
    Aricles choked on the misery of it all. Agony made his vision turn dull as his heart pounded even more pain through his body.
    Bathymaas bent her head down and pressed her cheek to his while she placed her left hand on the other side of his face. Closing his eyes, he let her scent and warmth ease him.
    Until her aunt dissolved the next one.
    He roared with the force of it.
    Bathymaas tightened her hold on him. “Breathe, love. Just breathe.”
    Love  …
    She’d never used that word with him before. Smiling in spite of his agony, he placed his left hand over hers.
    By the time the last arrow was dissolved, he was barely conscious from the agony of it all. Still Bathymaas held him as her tears fell against his skin.
    Panting and weak, he met the gaze of her aunt, who appeared less than pleased by their relationship.
    â€œHe needs to rest easy tonight, May,” she said to Bathymaas.