Page 21 of Summer’s Seduction (Sinful Seasons #2)
LARKSPUR
M y gaze was fixed on the large pool of blood left behind, on the scarlet splatter coating the walls, and on the flesh-colored ribbons littering the ground. I’d killed him. Well, technically, Morpheus had killed him. But what I’d done was worse. I’d tortured him. With relentless determination, I’d dragged the blade across his skin over and over again, watching as bits of flesh and muscle curled. Hearing his pleas, his screams of terror and agony—and I’d loved every second of it.
How many women had he used? Had he allowed others to abuse? I was glad he was dead. Delighted that I got to be the one who led him to death’s doorstep. I wondered what Thanatos thought when he was forced to guide souls like this. Did he taunt them with what would come in Tartarus or leave the soul destitute, wondering, confused, and mangled for a few days?
Whatever was next for shitty people like he’d been, I hoped it would be filled with endless suffering.
“Thanatos and Hades will see that he never finds peace,” Morpheus said, his voice a whisper in the echo of the cavern. His strong arms held me, waiting until I was ready.
“Good,” I breathed, wishing I felt stronger. Wishing I could have dragged out his torment a little longer. But I felt so tired.
“Let’s go get cleaned up.”
Morpheus’s great bat-like wings beat, launching us from the balcony and over the cavern, still swarming with dark ones searching for hearts to give me. My lips twisted as I recalled how they listened when I spoke, and the look on Morpheus’s face when I issued my first order. It was intoxicating. Maybe that’s why I felt safe enough in Morpheus’s arm to settle against his chest, inhaling the warm scent of leather and spice.
He’d let me command his people. Let me maim one of The Night Children in a cavern full of others. I’d felt the anger radiating off Morpheus when he’d found me. The look of unbridled rage that coursed through his body with each strong pump of his heart. At that moment, I think he would have destroyed anyone for me. No—not for me .
Morpheus and Megara had been clear that consent was vital. Any violation of that, going against their prince’s decree, was punishable by death. Some small, tired part of me wanted to believe the promise of vengeance spiraling out of him had been because of me, as pathetic as that was. Still, it was a relief to know Morpheus took matters of assault seriously.
I glanced up at him, mulling over everything I knew about the prince while we swooped in between two ledges and into a spacious room, and I wondered if I knew anything about him.
The cave stretched, the rock walls opening to large glass-covered windows revealing the glimmering night sky beyond. No wonder I was tired. It was already night, and judging by the half-moon set in the sky, it had been for a while.
Moonlight filtered down, illuminating the room as we descended. A large bed with black satin sheets and a massive, black headboard carved to look like a pair of wings. Shelves were added to the small nooks of the cave. Some were filled floor-to-ceiling with books, while others housed various weapons.
We landed on a plush, scarlet rug that spanned much of the room before he carried me forward. Morpheus set me on a leather bench, ensuring my feet were on the ground and my body strong enough to hold myself upright before his gentle hands let go.
“I’ll be right back,” he said, brows pinched in worry with what he saw before he flitted through the door to my left.
Glancing around, I realized the small bench I was on was set before a large, oval mirror framed in black. Various crystals and small glass vials adorned the dark vanity, which was cluttered with sticks of charcoal and pots of color. Various brushes and a few leather ties were thrown about, meaning this must be where Morpheus got ready in the morning. The image of him fussing over his hair almost made me laugh.
A moment later, the sound of water started, followed shortly after by the soothing scent of eucalyptus and honey—my favorite.
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. But this Morpheus, 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 you drank ?”
“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, this was 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.”
“I’m The Prince of Darkness, the son of Hypnos. I was born to enemies.”
“Yes, but this felt personal,” I pressed, watching each moment of his face, searching for a crack in his composure. “He made it sound like you used to know each other, or at the very least, behave similarly until you changed.”
A faint tinge of fear permeated the air around us, clashing with the peaceful scent rising from the nearly full bath. My cheeks heated as I watched Morpheus inhale, catching his eyes widened when he realized what I was getting at.
“I’ve done some pretty fucked up things, things that will haunt me until Lord Hades dips my soul into the peaceful reprieve of The Lethe, but I’ve never done anything with a partner that wasn’t completely consensual.”
My shoulders bowed forward, air rushing from my lungs as I let go of the last of my apprehension. I wasn’t sure who Morpheus was or what his past had been like, but his actions were that of someone honorable. Dare I say, trustworthy.
He played the part of a careless prince whose only concern was who his next fuck would be, but there’d been an entire cave filled with writhing, willing people, and he hadn’t been among them. Hadn’t spared a glance for them. And regardless of my vicious, slightly unhinged need for torture, he was still treating me with respect, without any signs of being disgusted or horrified.
“It won’t be like last time,” he promised.
“What if I can’t help it?” I asked, my gaze flicking up to meet his golden eyes. Because despite my shame in admitting it, I’d never wanted someone as much as I’d wanted him when his fangs had been inside me.
“Consent, remember?” Morpheus said, his lips tilting up on one end, but there was a hollowness to his eyes. “I won’t lose control this time, Larkspur. I was unprepared before, but your hunger will overshadow any other… urges.”
Swallowing down my doubt, I nodded. My gaze dropped to his lips and then to the thick veins lining his forearms as he rolled up a sleeve.
“I see the questions swirling inside that beautiful mind of yours.” Morpheus’s low voice rumbled through his chest as he turned off the water of the steaming bath before flitting back to my side. He raised his wrist to his mouth, using the sharp tips of his fangs to slice a deep gash as he sat beside me, extending his bleeding wrist toward my mouth. Blood welled, the sight and smell of it causing my own fangs to descend and throb with need.
“Drink, little monster, and see the beast before you.”