Page 33 of Summer's Seduction

Morpheus flitted past me toward a dark corner. There was a faint sound of a strike of a match, then a brilliant flash, and light flickered into being. He repeated this process until dozens of candles lit the room, their flames casting beautiful shadows across the cave wall.

And then he was before me, offering a hand still coated in bits of dried blood for me to take.

“I’ve drawn a bath for us.”

I lifted a brow, knowing there was no way I’d be able to walk. Still, I was dreading the idea of asking for help. “Us?”

His lips twitched as I forced myself up, my legs already shaking.

“May I?” Morpheus asked, waiting until I nodded before scooping me up and flitting into the washroom.

I was used to the charismatic charm that came so naturally to Morpheus. Even when I’d been slicing a man to pieces, he’d appeared cool and collected. Perfectly at home in the face of torture. ButthisMorpheus, the man who asked before helping me, he knew that I needed a warning right now, even with the simplest of touches. The Morpheus who permitted me to enact revenge however I wanted, who lifted me with a tenderness I’d never felt from anyone before… that Morpheus was someone I wanted to see more of.

We flitted into the next room; the black walls of the cavern swirled with shimmering white stone illuminated by the flickering flames of endless candles. Steam rose in swirls from a rectangular pool set in the ground, the massive bath framed by smooth, onyx tiles stamped with the moon's phases. A tray of items was filled with scented oils and salts, scrubs, soaps, and even small, porous stones. I’d never seen such luxury and hadn’t been expecting it here.

Morpheus set me on a marble bench facing the pool, his wings snapping tight behind him as he turned to face me.

“May I touch you?”

My mouth went dry as he knelt between my legs, fingers hovering over the laces of my boots. Scarlet was everywhere. I’d lost my cloak sometime during the night, but the rest of me was covered in gore. Morpheus wasn’t much better with bits of blood and tissue matted in his dark hair, but his golden eyes were bright… and sincere. This wasn’t a scandalous interaction. He wasn’t treating me as a conquest but as a being he wanted to care for. Not trusting myself to speak, I dipped my chin in a nod.

Morpheus loosened the laces, slipping off each boot with a tenderness that was so at odds with his reputation. I leaned forward, ready to go to the pool, but he stayed there on his knees, looking up at me while his hands worked the arch of my foot.

“You’re tense,” he smirked, no doubt hearing my heart race, but I noticed the gesture was mingled with genuine concern. “Your pulse is far too soft, little monster. When’s the last time you fed?”

Swallowing, I tore my gaze from where his hands massaged circles around my ankles. “I packed food for the journey?—”

“Not that type of sustenance, Larkspur. When was the last time youdrank?”

“I topped off before I left The Dark Palace,” I replied, proud of the icy chill of my voice. “But most of that strength was taken from me.”

I thought I noticed a flinch in response, but I blinked and Morpheus was as composed as ever. He glanced down, shifting his touch to my other foot and slowly working up my calf.

Biting back a moan as he worked the knots from my legs, a part of me felt like this was a dream. I must have died up there, and this,thiswas my after. Shifting my weight onto my palms, I leaned back, too tired to remember all the reasons I hated Morpheus, and dared to let myself enjoy this moment.

His fingers trailed up to the back of my knees, his touch sending traitorous pulses of warmth through my body, coiling low in my stomach. I was in a haze, half delirious from exhaustion and the adrenaline drop of almost being taken.

“You agreed to a favor, Larkspur. If I must remind you of that to force you to care for yourself, I will.”

I opened my eyes, leaning forward to glare at him. I’d expected him to recoil, but he just waited patiently, his palms resting on the outer parts of my thighs. It was difficult to concentrate, even more challenging to admit that he might be right, but I forced the question from my lips.

“You expect me to drink from you?”

“I would prefer it,” he answered, holding my gaze. “I took something from you that was not mine to take.”

My chest squeezed, lungs heaving as the shame of that moment washed over me.

“Don’t misunderstand me when I say I’d do it again if it meant protecting you from The Olympians and their sick displays of power. Your hatred, your infinite loathing, I’ll take. I’ll weather that storm, but I can’t stand by and watch you hurt.”

“Drinking from you… would I get to see things the way you did?”

“Yes,” Morpheus breathed. “I would allow you to see anything you wanted of me, though I admit there are things in my past that are not experiences I’d wish on anyone.”

My head tilted to the side at the seriousness of his tone, reminding me of something earlier in the night. “That man, the one who tried to… take me.”

Morpheus’s nostrils flared as his jaw flexed, but he remained silent, waiting.

“He found your necklace and was happy that hurting me would hurt you.”

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