Page 17 of Summer’s Seduction (Sinful Seasons #2)
MORPHEUS
“ G ood evening, Camilla.”
Rich, brown eyes scanned the crowd around us. Her dark hair was twisted and pinned up, leaving just a few loose curls framing her high cheekbones and strong nose with a slightly curved bridge and long, narrow nostrils. Her features could’ve been carved from marble, her likeness joining the goddesses of The Above, but the fire burning in her gaze and the silver crescent moon shimmering on her white cloak signified she belonged to Artemis.
Music from the great cavern was blaring, vibrating through the halls with the echoing base. Couples and groups were discussing terms, agreeing to the safe words and limitations of the night, before venturing to join the others. It was just another night at The Playground, but everything had changed. Larkspur was here, entering parts of my world that weren’t always easy to see.
“Megara will be along shortly. Do you feel comfortable meeting with me in a quieter location until she arrives?” I asked, offering Camilla a goblet of fresh spring water, knowing she didn’t drink.
Camilla was a warrior of the Amazons, a skilled collection of women who vowed off the presence of men and served the great huntress, Artemis. Most had survived a torturous life, one of abuse and horrors no one should ever have to endure. I understood the hesitancy of being around men after such a life and respected their desired space. If Camilla wished to wait for Megara in the cavern, we would.
“As long as you’re there, Lord Morpheus, I trust you to keep the others of your kind in check.”
We proceeded to a private room on the second floor, bypassing more intimate feedings until we reached the office at the far side of the hall. The moment the double doors closed, Camilla spoke.
“We’re still searching The Realm of The Living for the source of the madness, but as soon as we think we’ve found a trail, humans turn up dead.”
“The sleeping sickness?” I asked, needing to know if this was my father’s doing. I, like so many others, assumed this wave of chaos was Hypnos’s version of a tantrum, but I haven’t been able to confirm it.
“Yes,” Camilla answered, but the word was drawn out as if she were already doubting its validity.
“Go on,” I urged, reaching for the glass decanter and pouring a relatively large measure of the amber liquid for myself. I had a feeling I wouldn’t like what followed.
“The humans hadn’t slept in days,” Camilla breathed, her eyes unfocused with a recalled memory. “But some of them felt different.”
“Can you show me?” I asked, being careful not to move. Those apart from The Night Children didn’t particularly like having their blood sampled for memories, but Artemis’s huntresses loathed it.
Her lips were pressed into a thin line as she held my gaze unflinchingly.
“I hate to ask, but this war is gaining far too much momentum for plans laid by my father alone.”
I fully expected Camilla to say no, despite the growing number of mortals dying every day. Wars tend to be things that are repeated in The Realm of The Living, regardless of history’s lessons. Something must have felt alarming enough because she gave a tight nod.
Without a word, I gathered a glass and set one before her. She withdrew a hairpin, dragging the sharp tip across the inside of her forearm. Blood welled from the wound, her brown eyes watching as fat droplets spilled into the glass beneath her. When little more than a sip accumulated, she drew back, using the edge of her dark dress to apply pressure.
My brows raised as I caught the glint of steel strapped to her thigh and bronze chainmail woven beneath the dress.
“You didn’t expect me to enter a hive of hornets without protection, did you, Lord Morpheus?” Camilla grinned, letting the dress fall back into place now that the bleeding had stopped.
I allowed my fangs to descend as I raised the cup of her blood to my lips, holding her gaze. Amazons were fierce warriors, as clever as they were strong. It was vital I show no weakness in her presence. “I would expect nothing less from one of Artemis’s favorites.”
Her cheeks flushed as I detected the subtlest shifts in her pulse, her reaction confirming the whispers of Artemis’s interest. I wondered if Zeus knew his huntress of a daughter had only remained a virgin when it came to men.
Zeus, being the last to know, being made to look like a fool for not realizing his daughter had cleverly avoided his arrangements for marriage in favor of her own desires… that would set his paranoia and ego off.
“Don’t worry, dear Camilla,” I grinned, letting the hint of a threat seep through my soothing tone. Regardless of how much I hated the masks I wore; it was imperative I held them in place for my kingdom’s sake. For my people. “Love isn’t a topic I discuss often.”
“Of course not,” she replied coolly. “How could you when you’ve never felt it?”
“Deadly with blades and words,” I said with a smile that was full of fangs.
Her nostrils flared as I tipped the first drops of her blood into my mouth, letting the warm liquid roll over my tongue. It was bitter, the tones of resentment cutting through the smooth texture. Camilla didn’t like me, that much was obvious, but she hated what was happening in The Realm of The Living even more.
Coaxing memories from blood took power, skill, and determination. Very few possessed the gift, and none were as talented as I was. I’d made sure of that.
Allowing my inner darkness out to play, I gave into my baser instincts and navigated through her blood. Offshoots of other times and other worlds flashed before my eyes, but I stayed focused, remembering not only my mission but also who I was. It was far too easy to get lost in the essence of another.
There.
“Artemis was with you in The Realm of The Living,” I stated, watching the scene before me unfold.
A beautiful woman was dancing in a tavern. Golden curls reached past her hips, eyes closed as she danced and spun to the upbeat tempo of the music. There were cheers and hollers from the crowd, everyone in sight enthralled by the merriment of the night.
But then the music changed. The harp alone remained, morphing the buzz of the crowd into a hypnotic rocking. A gust of frigid wind blew open the door, bringing a reprieve from the warm, summer night—and a thin sheen of golden dust. No, not dust, but sand .
Artemis and Camilla drew their cloaks up, covering their faces as sand and frost swirled through the small space, casting everything in a golden hue.
The dancing woman remained still, seeming to guide the others as the chilly, enchanted air enveloped her. She inhaled deeply, her chest rising, and her head tipped back as the silence stretched. Even Camilla and her mistress were still, waiting.
And then the woman grinned. All those in the tavern grinned back at her, following as she danced out the door and into the forest beyond.
“What is this?” Camilla asked, shaking out her cloak as she and Artemis gave chase.
“I don’t know,” Artemis said, her silver eyes hard as she scrutinized the men chasing the giggling woman.
I followed Camilla’s gaze, watching worry play across her face—as the woman’s laughter grew wilder.
The golden-haired woman turned, bathed in the light of the moon, and swayed her hips in a field of wildflowers to a song only she could hear. Then she began to hum. The men who’d given chase surrounded her, transfixed by the gentle rhythm her body created.
Until she stopped, and the song ended.
They pounced like ravenous wolves on a wounded hare. Artemis and Camilla launched into action, fighting through the tangled web of bodies and blood, trying to reach her.
The beautiful woman laughed as the men tore her apart, each grabbing for a piece. Ripping and tearing and taking anything they could get their hands on. Chunks of her golden curls coated the trees, the matted ends red with tuffs of her scalp still attached.
Some ran off, clutching pieces of the woman’s body to their chests as they fled with their prize. Others dropped to their knees, the ground coated in red as they held bits of bone and muscle, raising the coveted flesh to their mouths, tearing into bits of her with their teeth.
Horror consumed Camilla, her stomach turning as bile poured from her mouth. Artemis was there, her face set in cold fury as she helped her warrior to stand.
“Come,” she said, eyes seeming to memorize each soul in the clearing.
“But the woman,” Camilla protested, tightening her grip on her dagger. “We have to lay her to rest and avenge her soul.”
But Artemis only shook her head, lips pressed into a thin line. “There is nothing left to bury. But she will be avenged. This madness will end them all.”
I peered through Camilla’s eyes, feeling her revulsion spike as the men continued feasting, not realizing the woman’s body was long gone… and it was their own they were consuming.