Page 27 of Heir of the Beast

Overwhelming.

I risk a glance to where Apollo stands with his men some distance away from the slaves. My tummy tightens. He looks like a superhero.

The lightning from the dark sky flashes behind him, giving his powerful form an unnatural allure. His sapphire cape flaps with the gentle wind, and his shiny black armor reflects every vein of lightning.

Apollo’s face is a stone mask, carved from granite, as if he cares not that the people are chanting his name. I can hear women scream like we are at a boy band concert, for Pete’s sake.

Talk about looking desperate. Someone should tell these women men like the chase. Not to be chased.

He nods to someone in the crowd, and then my heart jumps to life as he points to Mort and me.

I gaze to where he points in the crowd, and it’s to a very stern looking woman with men standing behind her. High bun, thin lips, with an outfit fit for an eighteenth-century royal governess.

“That is the headmaster, in charge of the female servants, divisions one through five. We call her Headmaster, pretty simple.” Mort whispers behind me.

“Pierce placed vague memories of us in their brains. So our story checks out if Apollo should ask, which it looks like he is now.” She pauses.

“It seems like Apollo is an impatient human. Good thing Pierce is a fast worker.”

I’m not sure if I should feel excited or dismayed that the first thing Apollo does is ask about us.

I bite my lip as the severe headmaster bows in front of Apollo, and they’re no doubt talking about us. I see the woman glance over in our direction then back to Apollo, nodding.

“You must always keep your head down and do not talk unless you are spoken to. No eye contact whatsoever,” Mort murmurs behind me.

Good to know.

I hear a man yell, and apparently, Apollo has given orders for us to go to them. I feel a jab in my back to start walking toward them, who are standing at the base of the draw bridge.

My heart is beating so hard it almost hurts. I feel so out of my element, and I hate not being in control. I keep my head down and fist my cloak to hide my hands shaking.

We arrive, and all I can see is my feet.

I gasp as the headmaster grabs my chin, jerking it upward and ripping off my bonnet.

My dark hair is a wild curly mass, flipping in all directions. Apparently, my hair dried in a fashion like if I stuck my finger in a light socket.

She is inspecting me to see if I am who I say I am. I can feel eyes on me as she examines every inch of my face, tilting it to the left and right rather aggressively.

She jerks my chin to the right again, and my gaze clashes with Apollo’s.

I don’t breathe.

Apollo has his hand over his mouth as if in serious thought. His black gaze is zoned in on me, the intensity of his stare scattering my brain waves.

It’s hard to tell where exactly he is looking due to the darkness of his eyes, but I will guess it’s my hair.

And now, my eyes.

He is rubbing his chin slightly as his gaze immobilizes me.

Mercy.

My cheeks heat to boiling point, and I look away, trying to calm the frantic beat of my pulse. Pull it together, woman!

I would bet my cards that he saw the reddening of my face even in the dark. Hell, for all I know, the prince is nocturnal.

I’m not prepared to deal with a force like him. Maybe the others will have better luck. I feel like a little bug next to a lion. The two can’t relate.

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