Page 23 of Summer’s Seduction (Sinful Seasons #2)
LARKSPUR
M orpheus pulled back, breaking the hold I’d had on his wrist as he stood from the bench and toed the line of the pool behind him. His chest was heaving, face flushed despite the blood loss, and when I glanced at the wound I’d fed from moments ago, it was only to find two faint pink marks. My brows rose at how quickly he healed. I knew he was powerful, but that… that was near god level.
What was far more unnerving was the way Morpheus was looking at me. His eyes were searching my own, pulse thrumming as if he thought I would judge him. Like I could. Like the sins of my past weren’t just as terrible. Different? Maybe, but we both bore scars that were too deep to ever fully heal. He’d shown me a lot, but the feeling underlying his decisions pierced something in my armored heart.
“Say something,” Morpheus breathed, raking a hand through his disheveled hair. The dark strands fell right back to where they were, framing his face perfectly. The cocky grin of The Dark Prince was gone, replaced by a yawning rawness. How did I never see it?
Everything in his life had been an act, a mask he donned to survive, to make this existence a little less miserable—just like me.
“You used to play the violin?” My cheeks heated as soon as I asked the question. It was pointless, but that image of Morpheus, heir to the kingdoms of the north as a young boy who held such joy for the instrument, was stuck in my mind, embedded in the muscle of my tormented heart.
Morpheus blinked a moment before he broke into a disbelieving laugh. He shook his head, the tension coiling through his body a moment ago dissipating as he grinned at me. “You need a bath, little monster. And now that you’ve fed, I know you won’t drown while bathing. Everything you need is here, and I’m sure Megara has already had clothes sent over for you.”
“Wait,” I called. My brows furrowed as he turned to leave, disappointment lashing through me.
Morpheus turned, waiting for me to speak, but what was there to say? I saw you as a boy and know you’re not as horrible as you want me to believe. When did you stop feeling so empty inside? Are you still trapped under your father’s thumb? Will you still kill for him even when your heart shatters as you lift the blade? Because I’d felt his pain with each life he took, experiencing the numbness growing as if it were my own. But all of that felt too heavy.
“I…”
“Yes, little monster?” Morpheus purred, taking a step toward me.
Heat pooled low in my stomach at the use of his pet name for me, at the way he looked as if he wanted to take back everything he’d shared and dive in deeper.
And maybe it was the exhaustion talking or almost being dragged into a dark room by some entitled asshole, but right now, I didn’t want to be alone. Not just that, I wanted to be with Morpheus.
“Stay,” I finally said, swallowing down the flutter of nerves. I was never nervous. Flirty was easy. Sex was a passing thrill, but the way Morpheus was gazing at me, hungry and needy, had me contemplating if I’d ever be the same after tonight.
He prowled forward slowly, every step causing my pulse to skip until he stood right before me. His large wings flexed, the dark skin pulling across bone. This close, I saw each wing was tipped in ebony spikes, and there were traces of gold shimmering along the dark skin.
“You’re beautiful,” I whispered, biting my lip to prevent any other words from spilling free.
His nostrils flared as his eyes darkened, no doubt scenting my arousal between us despite the layers of grime coating our bodies.
“Do you know what you’re asking, Larkspur?”
Fuck , if the way my name rolled off his tongue didn’t have me biting back a whimper. As much as I wanted to blame it on the blood or all of the fucked-up shit that had happened tonight, I knew this was different.
Morpheus had trusted me to peer inside his mind, to share in his torment and misery. He revealed his pain, worries, and shortcomings… and wasn’t that the ultimate test of trust?
“You didn’t want to fuck me this time.”
He lifted a dark brow, the corner of his lips twitching as he brushed back a wayward curl. “I assure you my desire on that end has never wavered.”
A flush swept through me, my thighs squeezing at the promise underlying his words. “I mean with your blood. You could have pressed it when I first started feeding, could have had me on my back in seconds. I wanted you.”
“Not all of me,” Morpheus said softly, his hand falling to his side. Despite the words being spoken like a hushed confession, it felt like a punch to the gut. “If you want my body, little witch, you can have it. But know that I crave you. The real you. I want the woman who protected others, even when they didn’t realize her sacrifice. The person who would stop at nothing to save her sister, even if that means crossing The Underworld alone.”
My pulse was racing, my breathing coming in short, shallow breaths as Morpheus leaned down, his breath fanning my ear.
“And all of those sharp, shattered pieces of your soul, the ones that seem to slice and torment you just as much as they do to everyone else, I want those bits of you, too.”
I closed my eyes against the dampness gathered there, feeling the last layer of the walls around my heart crumble. Morpheus’s thumb brushed away the tears, smearing the layers of blood as he did so.
Gazing up, I got lost in his eyes, swept away by the heat of his body and the promise of something more.
Morpheus’s hands drifted down around my back, hovering over the clasp of my top.
I nodded, breath hitching as his skilled fingers freed the clasp in seconds. The golden material slipped free, pooling at my feet. My nipples pebbled in the warm air, the steam from the bath swirling up around us.
Not waiting, I pressed the edges of my skirt down, aware that he was watching every inch of my exposed body, and started toward the bath. A moan escaped my lips as I dipped my toes into the water, the temperature nearly scalding— just the way I liked it. I paused on the second step, daring to look up.
Water reached my thighs, but the rest of me was bare to him, the wash of blood on my skin serving as a reminder that I wasn’t good or merciful. Only those who’d never suffered could forgive easily, because they’d never known true pain. Never felt their entire world rendered to ash by the evilness of another.
I was wrathful. And angry. I’d been broken so many times that I wasn’t even sure who I’d be without my agony. If the fates plucked me from this fucked up timeline and dropped me in another, I don’t know if I could survive without my anger. Morpheus said he wanted all of me, thought that he’d seen the worst of me—he had come closer than any other—but what he’d glimpsed was just the beginning.
Hooded eyes trailed over my body, a look of reverence swirling within his gaze as he noted every curve and dimple, every line of my body, as if I promised salvation instead of damnation. I’d never allowed myself to hope for anything better than survival. My life had been lived for others for so fucking long that I forgot what it meant to think of a future. But as Morpheus’s eyes finally met mine, I saw all of the hurt and regret, all of the brutal vengeance and twisted pieces of my own life staring back at me… I felt a sliver of light creep into my darkened heart and dreamt of what might be.
“Are you coming?”