Page 26 of Heir of the Beast

“Maybe,” she says.

I narrow my gaze at her.

“But,” she continues, “you’re a slave, and Pierce says normally Apollo does not openly show signs of interest, especially not directed at a slave. We don’t know for sure, but it’s a good sign.

“Your wardrobe is going to be an obstacle, but nothing Pierce can’t handle. He says he has some tricks up his sleeve.”

I glance down at my attire. I have no clue how I’m going to make this work being a slave. I might not ever get a glimpse of Apollo again. And if I do, he will not recognize me in this getup.

That thought makes my tummy turn, imagining all the other girls getting ample time with him.

I shift uncomfortably. “Man, I wonder what the girls will think when they see him.”

Drool. Smacking their faces and jumping up and down like cartoon characters.

Mort glances at me. “I will admit, for a human, he is very striking if you like the alpha-male-with-gorgeous-hair type. I prefer more of a beta male, myself.”

“He did have gorgeous hair.” The bleach-blonde mixed with golden locks would be the envy of every California male ever born.

Then there is his beautiful tan skin, not pale like most fair-haired people, which contrasts with his hair so exotically. His animalistic dark gaze.

I want to groan. I feel a wave of jealousy, wondering who will be the first to kiss him. That would be an experience no girl will forget. A man of his caliber probably ruins every other man for any woman.

I now feel for the poor girls on ~The Bachelor~ when they had to watch the hunky dude kiss all the women. I can say that I feel genuine rage, and I have only caught a glimpse of him.

I need to calm down, or this will get very unhealthy.

“Is Apollo even looking for female companionship that’s long term?” I ask.

Mort nods. “New development. Yes. His father is very sick and is dying. Apollo will most likely be king very soon and needs a queen quickly, in fact. This will help us. Finally, some good news.”

“Oh great, that probably means every girl in the kingdom will be after him.” My situation keeps on getting worse. All I need is more competition.

The sound of the door opening makes us both jump. Nerves flash through my body when I hear male voices. The rusted metal door opens with a groan, and two large men stand there looking at us with frowns.

“Get up, slaves. We ar’ in Garthorn!”

The next thirty minutes, we’re jerked here and there, placed in a long line of Garthorn slaves. My ankle shacks almost make me fall, but luckily the guard yelling at me grabs me by the neck, steading me.

It is dark outside and chilly, and the sky flickers with blinding flashes of light, giving it an evil appeal. A shiver licks its way down my spine as nerves crash my senses.

At this point, if I can make it without using all three of my lifelines, I’m winning. The thought of Apollo falling in love with me seems to drift further and further away.

A large man is shouting something at us that I can’t make out, then the line starts to move once again. We are descending from the ship onto a massive drawbridge.

A large crowd is present on the dock, along with carriages and massive horses. Big puffs of breath are seen as the monstrous black stallions stomp the ground impatiently.

I can hear yells and chants, and it sounds like chaos. Raising my head slightly to take in the distant city and castle, my breath hitches.

Oh, wow.

In the darkness, the city reflects deep blues and silvers, giving the whole landscape a daunting appearance. At this point, I feel like I’m way in over my head.

Garthorn looks like something out of the Lord of The Rings.

Towering buildings disappear into the mist-like clouds with sharp edges and some that end in long, spear-like points. As if the buildings were not human made, but carved out of the jagged mountain structures.

Breathtaking

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