Page 117 of Heir of the Beast

I’ve never been this close to him before. I can feel his body heat and rock-hard muscle under me, and it makes me lightheaded.

Guilt fills me instantly. I am cheating on Apollo, it occurs to me—who is on his deathbed, for crying out loud!

Siron grabs me and pulls me to him, my head nuzzling his smooth neck. I feel more tears streaming down my cheeks as his arms encircle me tightly.

I feel his energy engulf me fully, and I never want him to let me go. Absolute insanity.

I can’t do this.

This is so wrong on so many levels.

I pull back and try to get out of his arms, but he holds me still. I look at him, and he hands me a note, his dark gaze intense. ~Tell me what hurts you.~

“I can’t,” I sob.

He tilts his head and expels a breath.

“Why are you being nice to me? Why do you seem different? Why aren’t you mean and cruel? You are not making sense to me right now,” I moan in misery.

He adjusts himself so he can pull out his notepad to write. He writes quickly, glancing up at me every so often. I wish I could see under the mask.

Siron shows me the note. ~I still might be all the things you ask about, but circumstances have changed. I am dying, little dancer, and maybe I’d like to do something right for once.~

“What?! Why is every man I care about dying?” I scream. “What the hell is happening?!”

His eyes widen.

I clamp my mouth shut, heart pounding. Did I just admit to caring about him? Shit. I push off him and run from the room like a lunatic. Class-A crazy.

And the award for the best insane performance goes to…Viola!

Standing ovation.

I need therapy, a shrink, or maybe I will check myself into the nutty house, I’m sure they have one of those here. Insanity is common among humans everywhere.

I am not sure how I make it back to my room without a mental breakdown in the hallway for everyone to witness. I lay on my bed and scream into my pillow, kicking and punching the soft mattress.

Then the tears come, slow and brutal, like slow embers. I need to pull my shit together. I have never been this emotional before.

“Where have you been?!” Mort is suddenly in the room. “They are gaining on Eltson’s ship and are closing in fast!”

I jerk up and sniff, wiping my eyes quickly.

“Are you crying?”

“No.”

She snorts. “Looks like you are. Anyway, Laura is on the ship and apparently has not had the time of leisure as we had. The man Eltson is a real bastard apparently—she had to use a lifeline.”

“Is she okay?” I ask, genuinely concerned, sniffing slightly. I guess not every captor is like Black Siron. I squeeze my eyes shut—~don’t you dare cry, you cheap hooker.~

I put myself down because it will toughen me up. It’s proven to work, or so I was told by the head stripper at the club. I give myself a shake and get up, taking a calming breath.

I got this.

No, I don’t.

Yes, I do.

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