Page 36 of Heir of the Beast

I jerk toward her with a slight burst of energy. “He’s back?! He’s back!”

“Yes. For a few hours now, and I happened to be there when the headmaster told him about your situation. Which led me to almost being eaten by the cat.

“I was not paying attention because I was listening to the conversation, and I didn’t want to miss anything.” Mort looks sick again and shivers.

“Do you know how big cats look when you’re this big?” She holds up her fingers to show me the size of the butterfly she was.

“Mort,” I moan. “What did he saaaaay?!”

She’s killing me softly.

“Well, he pushed past the headmaster pretty aggressively and is headed here, I think. I had to fly through shortcuts to get here this fast.

“I was having trouble with the coordination of my wings, kept flying into the wall. I also flew into a window, which actually really hurt.

“Because, you know, it would be bad if he beat me here and I was still a butterfly.” She gives me a pointed look.

I shake my head. “He is coming here now?!”

My heart kicks to life.

I didn’t know I mattered that much to him.

We both gasp as the door is forcefully thrown open, and Apollo’s figure fills the doorway. My heart stops at the sight of him. I always forget what a striking force he is.

I can see his eyes widen even in the darkness. He slowly walks in, his chest rising and falling at a rapid rate. That’s when I notice myself and what I must look like.

I am lying on the ground with my hair splayed everywhere, soaking wet. I stopped caring yesterday, or was it the day before?

Apollo kneels down next to me and glances up at Mort. “Are you hurt?”

She shakes her head no.

“I can see the same isn’t so for her,” he says grimly, his jaw flexing.

I barely peek up and see two guards come running in along with the headmaster. Apollo turns, and the look he gives the headmaster makes her clutch the cloth at her neck.

“Unchain them now,” he orders.

I can see the confusion written on the headmaster’s face. “Your Grace, she is supposed to be a spy!”

“From now on, you do nothing unless you consult with my advisers or me,” he commands. “I will decide what her intentions are, not you. You have no authority.”

I would have swooned if I was not already on the ground lying in muck.

He glances back, and I feel his hand softly touch the bruise on my cheek. He is looking at me like I am a delicate little flower that was dropped in the mud.

He lifts me off the ground, and I am carried, my memory fading in and out.

I’m safe, though.

His body heat warms mine, and I never want him to let me go. I can smell the spicy scent of him. Yum.

I almost moan in protest when he hands me off to the medical staff to clean me up and see to my wounds yet again.

Though I do see him watching me until I’m out of view.

I think that’s a good sign.

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