6 Facsimile of a Greek God

Tania's gaze traveled down to her waist, where his thick, muscular arm rested. The way his arms coiled around her it was like he was holding his cherished treasure. It felt protective…

Strangely, it felt nice with his scent of brine and mist washing over her. The strong body behind her edged evenly in his slumber. His heartbeat was like a soft lullaby, and she resisted the urge to sleep again. She found it odd that her soul stirred with a foreign sensation which she had never felt in all her seventeen summers.

That sensation, however, ebbed when comprehension struck her. She needed to get out of here as soon as possible, without disturbing the strongest man she had encountered in her life. She was unaccustomed to this touch, having lived the life of a slave. When a man touched her before, it was with a whip or a cane to punish her. When a man touched her before, it was to take a part of her soul after casting dark spells on her. When a man touched her before, only blood came out of her nostrils or ears or mouth or skin. A shudder trickled down her body. She tried not to think and compare. Not all men were alike and not all men were different.

Her eyes went back to the arm that was coiled tightly around her. She picked up the heavy arm but realized that her dress was beneath the weight of his body. She turned to pull it out. In order to free herself, Tania had to come face to face with him.

Even in her wildest dreams, she could not have imagined a man as magnificent as him. He was a facsimile of a Greek god. How could he achieve such a level of perfection? Breathtakingly handsome, broad-shouldered with a bronze skin like velvet. Sleeping soundly behind her, he had a strong and regal aura about him. In his sleep, he still commanded respect and authority. His midnight-blue hair fell down his forehead, kissing the skin of his pillar-like neck. Her gaze went to his parted lips, and she realized then that she was holding her breath. His lips were perfectly bow-shaped. She was so enthralled, a ragged breath escaped her mouth and her heart raced so fast, she feared those in the next room would hear it. And he was coiled all around her.

She didn't remember much as to how she was entangled in this position, but through her hazy memories, she recalled being grasped in the darkness by a guard. She pursed her lips.

Comprehension.

"Calman's horns!" she breathed. Tania shook her head to get out of her stupor. She had to unravel herself as soon as possible, without inviting too much unnecessary attention. With every kernel of energy within her, she lifted his arm. Pinned beneath such a heavy man, she wriggled as much as she could, but wriggling out seemed like a massive effort. A caged little bird underneath a big bad wolf. After a few attempts, she prized herself free, letting his body fall to the bedsheets. The man groaned as he stirred; Tania froze as fear ensnared her. If he woke up now, he would hand her to the King and she would end up dead. So much for the freedom she had sought.

She watched him intently, watching him fall deeper into his sleep while she remained rooted to her place.

At the edge of the bed, she felt a tug — the hem of her gown was bunched up underneath him. Calman's horns! Gently, she collected her skirt, stopping at every groan that escaped his lips, and when she was done, she swept her feet off the bed and stood up.

As nervous as a hare, she looked outside. The window panels were open, and a gentle sea breeze fluttered the gauzy curtains. She walked to the window. It was pretty dark on the outside. Fading sconces burning somewhere down lent a faint glow to the night.

She studied the exterior, assessing just where she was. Her new friend had said that there would be an exit at the far end of the corridor. With that knowledge as she peered out of the window, she worked out that she was at least three floors up. Every breath from her body leaked out. The moon, a waning crescent, was about to descend. She had hardly any time left to complete her mission. Now, all she could do was flee. Because if she didn't run now, she would never ever leave this place.

Tania picked up her sandals and tiptoed to the door. She turned the handle down and opened it. As she walked out, she considered that the man slumped on the bed was Prince Rigel. Rather than leave, she dared to peek at his face, to find any telltale signs that he might be the avatar of God. She studied him well. Nothing revealed his identity. There was no glow around him, neither was there a strange light emitting from his forehead, which Menkar had always said would be there.

He looked… normal. That couldn't be him. If he were an avatar of God, there had to be something that was different to him, something divine. Right? Little did she show that the man was a certified debauch.

Tania clenched her teeth and then hurriedly snuck out of the room. To her relief, the man, whoever he was, hadn't woken up; to her chagrin, however, she would face the punishment of Menkar. Her body trembled. Menkar had a vicious way of correcting her.

A sense of rising dread crawled up her back. At one point of time, she contemplated what would be better—staying at the palace in the Draka Kingdom or going back to Cetus Monastery. She chuckled. Did she even have a choice? Menkar had something of hers that she could never part with. She exhaled roughly and focused at the task ahead, which was to get the hell out of here. She opened her senses to check out the dangers ahead.

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