Page 61 of Bride of Death
The assassin grunts. “Did you think that when torturing me in that dream yesterday?”
My brow furrows. “What dream?”
“The one he yanked me into so he could frolic with you in the park.”
“We did not frolic,” Morpheus interjects. “We simply discussed Human Realm roses. Which reminds me”—his focus returns to me—“I see you received the pot from Pip. Good. I’ll have a proper lamp brought in tomorrow.”
“Who is Pip?” Maliki demands before I can even reply. “Is he one of your Ghouls or Strigoi? Is that why I don’t recognize the name?”
Morpheus chuckles. “No, he’s not part of my kingdom. He’s very much a Netherworld creature.”
Maliki frowns.
Clearing my throat, I say, “Thank you for the pot. And the seeds. But please don’t scare shopkeepers on my behalf again.”
The God of Dreams gives me a smile that befits his title. “As you wish, little dreamer. Any other requests?”
“Can you stop purring?” I ask.
His smile slips a little, but the vibrations instantly cease. “Better?”
No, I think, immediately missing the soothing sound. Yet I force myself to nod because I want my brain back. These two males are distracting me. And I’m liking it a little too much.
I take a step back from them, causing Maliki’s hand to drop.
Unfortunately, the action does nothing to dispel the dizzy sensation in my head. If anything, it gets worse as both men stare at me intently.
“What else do you desire?” Morpheus asks me. “More information on Persephone? Answers to other questions? Perhaps a lesson on Mythos Fae?”
I consider the options he’s just provided. For some reason, that last offer feels the safest. I already know a lot about Mythos Fae from Alina. So this could be a nice way to test Morpheus’ssincerity. If I catch him in a lie, then I’ll know everything else he’s said can’t be trusted.
And besides, Hades told me not to talk to Morpheus.
Doing the opposite feels like a good way to rebel.
“A lesson on Mythos Fae would be nice,” I tell him.
His lips curl. “All right.” He looks at Maliki. “Are you tagging along or staying here?”
“Tagging along to where?” Maliki asks, suspicion lacing his tone.
The God of Dreams shrugs. “Does it matter? Either you maintain your protective detail, or you don’t. The choice is yours.”
Maliki narrows his gaze. “You are not?—”
“Five seconds,” Morpheus interjects.
“Um,” I start.
But Maliki growls, “No, Morpheus.”
“Four seconds,” the God of Dreams returns. “You may want to grab a shirt and shoes. Three seconds.”
Maliki grabs Morpheus by the throat.
And the God of Dreams takes hold of my hand. “Excellent choice, Enforcer,” he mouths.
Maliki’s eyes widen at the same time mine do, and the world begins to spin.
