Page 18 of Summer’s Seduction (Sinful Seasons #2)

MORPHEUS

“ W ell, that was fucking disgusting,” I breathed, reaching for the amber liquid to burn away the remaining wisps of Camilla’s memory. Tipping the glass back, I let it sear my throat, welcoming the bite of pain as my thoughts cleared.

“I thought so, as well.” Camilla reached for the glass her blood had been in, wrapping it in a cloth before tucking it away in her purse. Good. I was glad she took precautions when it came to her blood, regardless of how rare it was for a person to know how to use it. “Do you recognize the powder?”

Finishing off my drink, I reached for the bottle, pouring another healthy measure, before I met her gaze.

“Yes,” I said, watching as her expression remained unmoved. “But you knew that already. Or, at least, Artemis suspected.”

“Words and blades aren’t my only skills, Lord Morpheus. A woman must be clever if she is to survive in this world.”

I nodded, crossing my ankles as I leaned back against the desk. “The golden powder appears to be The Sands of Slumber.”

Camilla stiffened, her fingers twitching as if contemplating drawing her blade on me right then. Faint footsteps sounded before she could, and Megara let herself in.

She paused, eyes darting between the two of us. “It seems I missed something important.”

“Not at all,” I replied with a grin, making a show of turning my back to set down my glass. It was a test as well as a show of good faith. “I was just about to assure Camilla I’ve had nothing to do with wielding The Sands of Slumber, nor any hand in the messy happenings in The Realm of The Living.”

Megara’s eyes widened momentarily before she turned to Camilla, who still looked ready to fight. “He’s telling the truth. We don’t have access to the sands this far south. Morpheus is helping Lord Hades fight against his father.”

Camilla didn’t move, anger and disbelief warring in her gaze. She wanted it to be me.

“It would be so much easier if I’d done it,” I breathed, unable to help myself. “You could sink that blade into my chest, ending this life for me, and we could all go about our day. War averted. Women saved. And you could rejoin your mistress in The Great Hunt unencumbered by the tribulations of the realms.”

Camilla’s chest heaved as a sheen of angry tears coated her eyes. “Maybe I should kill you anyway. Just in case.”

“It wouldn’t help,” Megara said calmly, her hand coming to rest over Camilla’s.

For a moment, I didn’t think she’d listen, but then she let out a flustered breath. “If this is your father, then where is he? I thought the sands could only be wielded from The Underworld.”

“Hypnos’s power is tied to this realm,” I confirmed.

“Then how? Who’s helping him?”

“That, Camilla, is the question. And I think I know where to find the answers.”

Larkspur

M aking sure my golden mask was in place, I banished any doubts of not belonging and set out to get answers. Most of fitting in was pretending that you already did. Megara hadn’t been the source of information I’d been hoping for, but all I needed was a bit of gossip. Someone must have heard something about a living soul in The Underworld, and I intended to find out what. All I needed to do was find someone who would be easy to persuade despite my being exhausted and my magical abilities diminished.

First, I needed to feed, and the scent of blood all around me wasn’t helping the ache in my fangs, but partaking in The Playground clearly came with a cost.

Megara talked about consent, but I knew how worlds like this worked. The rich took, and girls like me—the ones who learned at far too young of an age that ‘no’ meant very different things to different people—we were the ones stolen from.

There was too much at stake to risk drinking from someone here, especially out in the open. And if what Morpheus explained was true, then feeding from another dark one also meant absorbing part of their memories, or at least the possibility of doing so.

That was a big no-fucking-thank you. I had enough of my own trauma to deal with. I didn’t need to live through anyone else’s. This left me with the one type of target I could always count on: an arrogant, self-righteous man who thought a woman’s greatest desire was to please him.

Subtly stretching my magic, I felt the energy of those nearby, finding one who was trained on me. It felt like desire and entitlement—just the right combination for what I needed.

The music had shifted, becoming more thrumming drums than lyrical strings, and I allowed my body to dip and sway, giving me a reason to search for the presence studying me so intently.

There.

Masked eyes followed my movements from across the room as I delved further into the cavern, gradually making my way over as I scanned those nearest to the man. He was clad in black lace, holding a silver tray, signifying him as one of the staff. Drinks circled among the writhing bodies, and I spotted a few more intimate items circulating on golden trays. The ravenous masses welcomed both as the music pulsed.

It was clear all those on the dance floor were intoxicated, drunk from liquor, blood, sex, or a deadly combination of all three. But the man watching me—the waiter whose energy was practically begging me to notice him—remained on the party's edge.

I smiled, testing the waters as I neared, knowing I couldn’t use much more of my power. That small use of magic already left me feeling like I’d been dragged through the desert without water. My skin felt clammy, my pulse too quick and thready. I wasn’t proud of using people, but if I had to, I made sure I took from someone who’d taken far more from others.

Light eyes tracked my movements beneath his black mask, long tendrils of golden hair cascading past his shoulders. A few others approached him, exchanging empty glasses for new ones, but only men. Never any women.

Curious, I kept track of the last pair of men as they took glasses from the waiter. They dipped their heads at him before melting into the sea of sweating bodies.

That familiar sense of unease slithered up my spine as I glanced back, his smile transforming into one of possession as if he thought I was a plump peach ripe for picking. My stomach clenched, but at least I wouldn’t feel guilty for using someone like him. I’d dealt with assholes before. This one would be no different.

Fixing a smile, I came a little nearer, mixing with the small group of others dancing near him.

“You’re new here,” he said, his voice deep and colored with intrigue.

“How did you guess,” I said, keeping myself far enough away to ensure wandering hands didn’t reach for me. I had a feeling personal space wasn’t a thing for a guy like him.

He chuckled, dropping his tray to the side as he slipped closer. Other men had joined the small group of women, somehow managing to guide the rest of them back while I was pulled forward. “Your smell. It’s different from the others.”

My pulse fluttered as my gaze sharpened. I spun, putting more distance between us as I danced while doing my best to mask the spike of trepidation. Those in The Underworld, even The Night Children, would be able to tell I smelled different than other souls, but Megara confirmed they shouldn’t be able to guess I was alive. They were meant to remain here, separate from those in The Realm of The Living. Despite the danger that put me in, I was hopeful he’d seen my sister.

“I’ve been told that,” I shrugged, wanting this interaction to end but needing to know if he’d seen any sign of Psyche. “Some say my spirit must have been powerful in a previous life for the ghost of it to cling so desperately to my current form. Tell me, have you seen a living soul? Is what they say about me true?”

“You fall short of a real soul.”

My heart squeezed, both from his words and the way he was already in my space again. The scent of sour alcohol wafted from his breath, causing nausea to roll in my gut. Forcing myself not to recoil, I ignored the heat of his breath on my cheek. I drew further into that numb place within myself when his hands reached beneath my cloak and touched the exposed skin of my stomach above my golden skirt.

“So, you’ve met one. A real soul?”

His lips were dry and scraping along my neck. I couldn’t suppress the shiver of disgust that shot down my spine but managed to conceal it with a turn as the music slowed.

He tilted his head to the side, and I thought maybe I hadn’t done a good job hiding my true feelings. Risking being further weakened, I sent a pulse of magic out.

Lust. Anger. Entitlement. The emotions swirled around him like a storm. Too volatile. Too dangerous.

“I’m sorry,” I offered, turning to leave, but his hand was around my arm before I could go. Fear pricked through me at his hold, drawing forth memories that had me reaching for my magic, even if it killed me, but then he spoke.

“I have.”

“You have?” I echoed, disbelief and hope coloring my voice. “Where?”

And just like that, he grinned like a cat who’d caught a mouse. “Best we speak in private. I heard Morpheus is lurking tonight.”

My brows furrowed, not wanting to follow him up the staircase in the shadows but finding myself unable to resist. He could hold the key to finding Psyche.

“I’ve seen a living soul,” he said, pulling me along a narrow hallway. Small rooms branched off to the right with what looked like a large office at the end. The music rose from the floor below, the scent of blood and sex making my head fuzzy.

“Why are we up here?” I asked, noting the pressure of his hand on my arm as he tugged me along. My head felt fuzzy like the world was slipping into a dream.

He only laughed. “You remind me of her.”

“Of who?”

There was someone important he was telling me about. Something I needed to do, but the more I reached for it, the further away it got.

“Say right here,” he commanded, his grip on me pricking as his voice vibrated through me.

I rocked as he let go of me, leaning against the thin, black iron fence that prevented me from falling into the crowd below. My feet felt like I’d stepped in tar, my mind a thick haze. Fuck , he was using persuasion on me.

Gods below , I hadn’t even noticed. My heart raced as fear doused the air. I needed to get the fuck out of here.

“Yes, yes,” he said, reaching for a key to the locked door before him. “Compulsion is a subtle change from persuasion, but I find it makes things far more enjoyable.”

“You bastard,” I breathed, reaching for the dregs of my magic only for them to be stomped out.

“You really sound just like her,” he chuckled, the lock clicking as the key turned.

I stilled, wishing I could banish that growing dread twisting in my stomach. He turned back to face me, inhaling the scent of my fear as he took hauntingly calculated steps forward.

“She was a pretty little thing, too. Hair so blond it was white, and her blue eyes so pale they were like the crisp sky of an autumn morning.”

Psyche. Gods, no. Not here. Not with him.

“She was beautiful. Pure. At least, she was before my brothers met her. I’m not sure what that little bitch did to them, but they were never the same after. You’ll pay for what she did.”

Lead dropped into the pit of my stomach, tears tumbling down my cheeks as I bared my teeth at the piece of shit before me.

“I’ll kill you,” I seethed, still trapped in his compulsion.

“No,” he taunted, his face inches from mine as his fingers gripped my chin. “You will be silent and not move.”

Tears spilled from my unblinking eyes as the air in my lungs grew tighter.

He grinned as if feeling my pain. “Except for breathing, of course.”

Ragged gulps of air drew into my burning lungs, but everything else was frozen. I could hear someone talking in the distance, could make out the shuffle of feet of muffled words, but I was trapped in my own body. Maybe I could fall. Perhaps if I breathed deep enough, I could throw myself off this balcony and break my body on the cave’s floor—but then his slimy hands were on me, pulling me toward the door and the darkness within.