Page 148 of Heir of the Beast

~Freaking rules.~

He lifts and sits more in front of me. “Then why can’t you tell me now?”

I squeeze my eyes shut. “You will understand when I tell you. It’s very complicated.” I bite my lip. “So complicated, but you have to just trust me.”

When I open my eyes, Apollo is studying me, seeing right through me. He looks down and sighs. “Eight days and no longer, if that’s my only option.”

He reaches for me and scoots me closer, hands on my thighs. His fingers toy with the garter under the sheet and he looks up at me. “What are these?” His voice lowers.

I take a breath. “Where I’m from,” I say carefully, “men really like them. It’s called a garter.”

“Where you’re from. You’re giving me little hints?”

I blush. “Yes.”

“Men like them, you say? Men saw you in these?” His gaze is unblinking. Serious.

“No. Just in general.”

I can see the muscle in his forearm relax. Apollo does not seem like the sharing type, more of the ~touch-my-woman-and-I’ll-slit-your-throat~ type.

Apollo’s hand is slowly massaging my thigh. “Speaking of other men…you fell in love with Siron.”

“Which was you,” I point out.

“You didn’t know that.”

“Apparently, neither did you,” I say. “How are you feeling?”

“I’m fine,” he says. “Which one would you have picked?”

This is really bothering him, I can tell.

I expel a breath. “Both.”

He raises a brow. “It troubles me that you would give your heart to another.”

“Apollo, it was you. If you came to me in different disguises, I would probably fall in love with every single one of them,” I admit. “You are irresistible to me.”

That seems to do the trick.

Apollo pushes me down on the bed and leans over me, his wet hair tickling my shoulder. It seems lighter, like the dye is washing out. The heavy weight of his body makes my skin tingle, his body’s heat engulfing me.

“I know you are not from here. I’ve known that for a long time.” His lips kiss my shoulder.

“I want to care, to be angry, to demand you tell me right now. But I find that I don’t care as I should. I am almost dreading it.”

“You are dreading it?”

“I do not want you to tell me something that will affect how I feel about you,” he admits.

I swallow, praying that he will be understanding, or I will be devastated. For the first time, I am having panicked thoughts that he will not take what I have to say with ease. It scares me.

“Because I have never felt this way about a woman. It’s as if I was struck by lightning when I saw you. I tried to fight it, but I could not.” He looks at me with a devious grin.

“I could not take my eyes from your torn dress that first day. Your skin was wet, and I could see your nipples through the material. I can remember almost forgetting how to talk, which has never happened.

“The rushing in my ears when you gave me your first defiant stare. I wanted to taste that fire.” His tongue swirls on my skin and lowers his voice.

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