Page 119 of Heir of the Beast

Within seconds I am heaved over his shoulder, my ass in the air. I try kicking and screaming but it is a lost effort.

He puts me down in the library, dropping me on the couch. My hair covers my face so I can’t see him through the heavy mess of my hair.

“Siron!” I scream through angry tears.

I feel him pulling my hair away from my face until I see him. He grabs my face in his hands and his lips descend on mine.

I am frozen.

I feel the impact clear down to my toes, my heart in sudden shatters. He pulls back abruptly, and I bring my hand to my lips to try and feel the contact. ~He kissed me~.

Siron closes his eyes like he is angry and leaves me there on the couch with my erratic thoughts.

I’m not sure how long I sit there until I hear Mort screaming my name.

“Viola! What is wrong with you?!” Mort is in front of my face.

I look up at her, my badass self finally emerging after long thoughts of confusion and self-pity. “I need a briefing, Mort. Cut all the bullshit! I know I have been acting weird.”

She takes a second, then says, “We are being overpowered. Siron is hurt, and I fear this could go south! It can’t go south, that will only lessen our chances.”

I stand up and hold out my hand, eyes narrowed. “Give me one badass motherfucking bow.”

Mort’s eyes widen, then she smiles, typing away. “Glad to have you back, human.”

Chapter 26

“Mort,” I say as we make our way up toward the lower deck, “I need you to shapeshift into a nondescript man in case I need help. This is going to be a full-blown, Rambo-style exit scene.”

I strap my bows and equipment to me and tuck a knife in my boot for good measure. A loud explosion violently shakes the ship, making me slam against the wall. “Shit!”

“How’s this?” Mort asks, now standing six feet tall as a rugged man.

My eyes widen as I take her cutthroat appearance. “Perfect, Mort. Impressive.” I pause with a grin as I look at her pants, not being able to help my immaturity. “Does…it feel weird?”

“Does ~what~ feel weird?”

“You know…” I nod to her pants with a wide-eyed look.

“No, I don’t.”

“Are you serious? You don’t know what I’m talking about? Because sometimes I’m not sure if you’re joking,” I say with annoyance.

“Joking about what?”

I stare at her. “A penis, Mort. A male penis,” I deadpan.

Mort’s man features contort into surprise then disgust. “I do not have a human penis—gross.”

A burst of laughter escapes me. “What?!” I cover my mouth to gain control of my amusement. “What do you have then?!”

Mort looks pissed, making me laugh harder. “I still have a vagina, human.”

My eyes widen, bulge even. “Mort,” I take a breath, “you have just transformed yourself into the foulest female in history.”

Mort tries to be angry, but it’s not working. Laughter bubbles out of her throat, sounding very man-like.

We both have a moment of pure laughter until another explosion rocks the ship, bringing us back to our urgent situation.

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