Page 109 of Heir of the Beast

Mort laughs and snorts.

I start to spin and feel the material tighten in certain places, making me nervous. The golden fabric is a long evening gown like one would see in old Hollywood, but more medieval.

The dipping neckline is my biggest worry. My ass is now on display and my breasts are presented as if I am a work of art. And I can also feel that my hair is tamed and less frizzy.

Only Pierce.

I hear a knock on the door and Mort is gone in a flash. I run to grab my dark cloak and put it on before they open the door.

“Princess, Master Siron awaits your presence.”

I nod to a portly man and follow him through more hallways until we finally reach a large dining hall.

The dining corridor is cold and barren—metal everywhere with sharp lines and yellow flickering lights running the floor. It isn’t ugly, quite the opposite, but it is extremely intimidating.

This ship is very scary from the outside, but very spacelike on the inside. Strange.

A long, steel table gleams in the middle of the room with two placements on one end. A server comes out carrying what I assume is a bottle of red wine.

He motions for me to take a seat just as the door opens again and Siron steps in, making me freeze. He has a black cane that he’s putting most of his weight on.

He shoos away the server, and in moments we are the only ones left in the room. He looks impeccable in black finery and wearing a more elegant mask.

I wonder why he wears a mask. Maybe he is badly scarred from battle.

His shoulders pull tightly on the sharp black dinner coat. I can see his dark hair combed back nicely and I cannot deny the man is gifted in the looks department.

That is all I will say about that. He probably has an ego the size of this ship and a black heart to fill his large body.

I realize I am just standing here staring at him like a lunatic.

He takes a hand out of his pocket and pulls out a chair for me. I shiver, not wanting to move closer to him. But nothing is worse than showing your fear in front of a man, so I raise my chin and walk toward him.

I go to sit down but feel his hand as he stops me. It rests on my shoulders, pulling off the large overcoat.

I tense, having forgotten that I was wearing the damn thing. Double damn. I feel the coat slide off, and I do not make eye contact but quickly sit down, ignoring my wild pulse.

Siron sits to my left, and I stare straight ahead, biting my lip. He leans his cane against the table and sits back in his chair. I need a strategy, but my brain isn’t working at the speed I need it to.

I feel him watching me, but I will not look. He moves, leaning over to pour me a tall glass of red wine, the sound filling the quiet room. ~Fine.~

I reach for it and down the entire glass, not caring how I come across. My situation can’t get any worse, so I might as well feel less tense about it.

I place the glass down on the table, resisting a cringe over the bitterness, and glance at him. I see his lips form a slight grin as he leans over to refill my glass, never taking his gaze from me.

I can feel the wine pooling in my empty belly and coursing its way through my body. I relax and feel a tad less afraid.

Siron takes out a notepad and starts writing. He glances back up to me and shows me his form of speech. ~Don’t be so scared of me, little dancer. Relax.~

I huff. “Have you seen yourself?” The wine is making me very toasty and brave. “You are very…intimidating.”

He nods and writes again. ~Apollo is also a large man, yet you want him?~

Just the mere mention of Apollo makes my gut tighten.

“Apollo is an honorable man, much different. You have a very dark reputation. You ruin women’s lives by kidnapping them or buying them like objects. It’s disgusting.”

Careful, Viola.

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