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

MORPHEUS

“ W hat happened?” I asked, carefully keeping my rage in check. My hands were folded in my lap with my ankle resting over my leg, but I felt anything but casual.

The moment Thanatos appeared in the throne room after Demeter’s defeat, I knew he was hiding something. He smelled different, like one of Hecate’s shielding spells. I’d thought it was an over-precaution taken while battling Demeter, but I could scent them now—The Night Children, a.k.a. The Dark Ones. Every time a dark one fed, we left a small trace of ourselves on our prey. The venom from our fangs, the toxin that numbed the sting of feeding, warping the experience into something resembling pleasure. But for the unwilling, it was the cruelest type of torture.

Rustling feathers came from the open door of the washroom, the steam of Thanatos’s shower still heavy in the air. He’d been taking showers nonstop, scrubbing to the point of bleeding.

I raised a brow as Thanatos walked into his room. His great white wings were stretched wide behind him, droplets still clinging to the feathers, and a towel slung low across his hips. His silvery blond hair was damp, the ends reaching the hard planes of his chest. Thanatos wasn’t thick like Hades, and his wings weren’t as intimidating as my own, but only a fool would look upon the God of Death and assume he was harmless.

He reminded me of a panther, slinking through the brush until he was ready to strike. We’d been friends for decades. Until I’d fucked that up too.

“You are no longer allowed in my room without an invitation, Morpheus.” Thanatos dropped the towel as he turned toward the armoire. He might be lean everywhere else, but that ass of his was spectacular.

“Then why have Hecate lift the wards? Wards particularly spelled to keep The Night Children out?”

Thanatos’s spine stiffened as he fastened the ties on his pants. They were thick, the material he used for traveling, but I didn’t want him to go. Not yet.

“You’re not like them,” he said after a moment, still not looking my way.

“Aren’t I?” I asked, more to hear him contradict it than anything else. Because I may not have harmed him the way my people had—would never take without consent—but I’d hurt him badly. After a minute of silence had passed, I slowly stood and made my way over to him. His pulse spiked as I neared, causing me to halt in my tracks. “Tell me to leave, and I’ll go.”

His lips parted for a breath, but he didn’t speak. Taking another step, I leaned forward, letting him know what was to come, giving him a chance to stop this. He didn’t. Inhaling deeply, I relished his scent as I pressed soft kisses to his shoulder, working toward his neck. Thanatos may be the God of Death, but he smelled like sunlight and citrus. Like grace.

“I didn’t think you wanted me,” I murmured, trying again to explain. “I never would have gone with her if I’d known?—”

“You didn’t ask,” he snapped, spinning away from me in a wash of wings. Such torment burned in his eyes. Such pain. And it was all my fault. “You assumed I would use you like the rest of them, but that just shows you never knew me. That we were never a possibility.”

Swallowing the tinge of bile on the back of my throat, I held his gaze. “I’m sorry.”

Thanatos turned away, wings curving around his shoulders. “Yeah, me too.”

“I know I’m not your favorite person right now, but we’ve always been able to talk about difficult things. Your scent is altered.” I breathed soft and gentle words to lessen their sting, but Thanatos still flinched. “Will you tell me what happened?”

Thanatos ran a hand over his face, his wings bristling. He returned to the armoire, reaching for a dark tunic as he shook his head. “You already know. You scented their poison in me the moment Hecate’s concealment spell wore off.”

My nostrils flared upon hearing his confirmation. A part of me hoped it wasn’t as bad as I’d feared. I wished my people weren’t capable of such deplorable things, but I should have known better than to expect anything but the worst. Pain and guilt churned inside me, strengthening each other in an endless cycle of self-loathing. I couldn’t do anything about who my parents were—about the tainted blood that pumped in my veins, but I could ensure those responsible never had the chance to do such a thing again.

“Which faction?” I asked, unable to keep the lethal promise of vengeance from my voice.

Thanatos finished fastening his tunic without responding. He gathered his long silver-blonde hair and secured it in a tie before turning to face me. His shoulders were tense, his wings twitching as if he couldn’t wait to take to the skies and forget this conversation.

“The Night Children’s Southern Faction has been dealt with. It’s over Morpheus. I don’t need you cleaning up after me.”

His wings bumped into my shoulder as he pushed past me, aiming for the window. My own wings responded as I turned to follow, but where his were feather-soft and pure white, mine were black and leathery, another mark of my mixed blood. Hypnos may be my father, but my mother was one of the creatures who’d just abused Thanatos.

My mother was a self-proclaimed princess of The Nightmare Kingdom and all the dark ones. The Strix family once held the throne until my maternal grandparents attacked it. They’d paraded the king's remains through the cobblestoned streets, but there was no evidence of the queen or her small daughter. I was young at the time, but I recalled the factions whispering about the young princess who would one day return and save them from my cursed family.

Maybe my family was cursed— because my grandparents were killed shortly after. They were found in the forest with a silver arrow through their hearts. Hypnos had called it a “hunting accident”, but I’d seen the bodies. There was no way it had been anything besides an assassination.

My mother withdrew after that, taking refuge in red-petaled poppies Hypnos gave her to ease her grief. I hated them both. Him, for providing the poison. And her for being too weak-willed to refuse. She followed her parents across The Lethe soon after.

I reached for Thanatos’s forearm before he was at the window ledge, desperate to help ease his suffering as he’d done for me so many times in the past.

Thanatos stilled, his fists flexing as if he were trying very hard not to lose control. “Get. Your hands. Off me.”

Stomach twisting, I released him immediately, realizing too late that my touch wasn’t seen as comforting. How could it, when I resembled the monsters who’d just attacked him days ago?

“I’m sorry,” I whispered again, my voice breaking as tears threatened. The words sounded tired even to me, but I didn’t know what else to say. What else to do to make this right. Everything was so fucked .

The two of us had been close. Thanatos was the one person I could count on for everything. He was kind and gentle when everything in my life had been harsh. Night Children—the dark ones, as we often referred to ourselves—didn’t have friends. The strong survived, and the weak were made examples of. Sex and feedings were expected, but emotion? Trust? They were seen as vulnerabilities to exploit.

The tension in Thanatos’s shoulders eased a fraction as I drew back, his light blue eyes meeting mine over a shield of feathers. I swear it looked almost like regret. “I think it’s best if we don’t see each other for a bit.”

My breathing hitched, but I swallowed the plea lodged in my throat. Putting my hands in my pockets, I lifted my chin and met his gaze. “Of course. I’ll be escorting the witch to the north. I expect it to take a few weeks?—”

“No, Morpheus.”

The way he said my name nearly undid me. It was an apology as much as a goodbye, and at that moment, I realized he was done with me for good.

“I see,” I said, proud of how steady my voice was despite my soul-shattering. “In that case, I wish you all the best.”

The edge of his lips quirked into a sad ghost of a smile. “You deserve happiness. Things may not have worked out between us, but I’ve seen the good in you. The compassion you have for your people and your quiet justice. You may hate the idea, but you would make an incredible king.”

My breathing hitched as I dropped my gaze, allowing the long, dark strands of my hair to fall forward, offering me a temporary reprieve. This was why love was foolish. His unending hatred I could handle, but his sympathy? God below, his fucking understanding . It was so much worse than anger because it meant that he’d seen me. He’d glimpsed into the truth of my being, had sampled the love I’d had to offer… And had decided it wasn’t enough.

“Thanatos, I—” The sound of great wings beating in the air drew my gaze up, only to find the room vacant. It was empty, like a seed that once had potential for growth, now rendered into a hollowed cage.

I let the tears fall as I leaned against the window, tracking Thanatos’s silhouette over the clouds, growing smaller with every second.

“I need you in my life,” I whispered to the wind.

It was a confession I wasn’t sure I could recover from, but I didn’t have time to rest. Because as much as I tried to act like being the heir to The Sleeping Realm wasn’t a responsibility I’d ever consider filling, a piece of me knew what happened to Thanatos would’ve never been possible if my father hadn’t been on the throne.

Could the Sleeping Realm and The Nightmare Kingdom grow to be under my rule? If I purged the kingdom of corruption, would there be anything left?

Hades was powerful, but he’d been weakened for far too long. The Dark Faction was split, some having grown closer to Hypnos than The God of The Underworld. My father may be a deplorable being, but he was clever. He’d been cultivating strong allies for decades while waiting for a time to strike against Hades.

No, I couldn’t risk Father becoming that powerful. He’d already undermined my control in The Southern Faction; that much was clear. I may not hold the title ‘King’ yet, but I’d also been sowing seeds of understanding these long years. My reputation preceded me in the worst way. I was heartless and cruel. An arrogant prince down for a good time who enjoyed fighting as much as fucking. I was The Dark Prince, The Bringer of Nightmares. Nobody had seen beyond that persona. Nobody had even tried, except Thanatos. If I’d known he cared—if I’d thought there was even a possibility—everything would’ve been different.

But that wasn’t how life worked. Especially not mine. There wouldn’t be a happy ending for me, not after all the shit I’d done. Even those in The Underworld had to answer for their sins when their time came. I had no doubt I was well on my way to carving out a tomb in The Fields of Torment, but for now, it was time to remind The Southern Faction who their true master was.