Page 41 of Heir of the Beast

He groans again in my neck as he finds the skin of my thighs. He shifts me in his arms, so his free hand has better access.

“Angel,” he pants.

I think I moan when his hand brushes over me there. My clothing is still a nuisance.

Then the unthinkable.

Voices.

I can see the pain and anger in his face as he drops me, his chest still rising fast. I hear female voices mixed with male ones. It’s a group.

We cannot be caught.

Apollo grabs my face before he leaves, his breath fanning mine. “You’re mine, Angel,” he declares, not caring what I have to say about it.

It is scandalous to hear something like that from Apollo, with me being a slave. “I want more,” he says with a wicked wink, then leaves.

I put my hand on my forehead and take steady breaths. What on Earth just happened? Apollo just made it to second base with me, is what happened. I bite my lip to make sure I’m not dreaming again.

“I want more,” he said

I place a hand on my trembling lips and expel a harsh breath.

Down the rabbit hole I go.

Chapter 10

That make-out session changes everything.

We were intimate.

Holy moly.

It was hot, and I’m still getting flushed cheeks just thinking about it.

Apollo knows how to kiss a woman, which is a fact. It should be printed in every history book. Apollo’s name should be in the dictionary under the adjective kissing.

I walk with my head down in the long line of servants, mulling over my thoughts. Maybe things didn’t change for him, but they sure changed for me.

You can’t be kissed by a man of his caliber and not be altered forever.

He said I was all his. But does he just tell women what they want to hear so they will just give it up? I don’t know. I pray not, but I am also not stupid.

I am a slave. He is the Crown Prince of Garthorn. Maybe I am the flavor-of-the-month slave. A man that kisses that well has had plenty of experience. ~Believe me~, in Donald’s Trump’s voice.

I frown as we turn a corner, in deep thought.

Mort was so enthusiastic that he made it to second base, saying we needed to go forward with our plan to get Laura’s DNA and bring down Queen Irena.

It will prove her infidelity and her betrayal of the House of Galleon. I wish I knew her lover, and we could just catch them in the act.

A grand feast is being held tonight, and we have been in the kitchen all day. Level five slaves will be the servers—lucky me. I get to serve two-hundred people. That’s a lot.

I used to be a waitress at an underground strip joint, and let’s just say it was a very low-key, under-the-radar type thing. Not to reflect on my bad life choices, but I have no experience serving this amount of people.

There are only fifty sector-five slaves, so you can do the math. I am still an oddball, though, always getting stared at. They treat me like I am a rare beast, a human with three eyes.

Was it that odd that Apollo had shown me attention? Slaves are considered less than human, so maybe.

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