“Morpheus?” My voice cracks, rough and gritty, as if I’ve been sucking down dry saltines. It must be from all the tears I swallowed in the ocean.
He lies beside me on the mattress, leaning on his elbow. His fingers weave through the strands of platinum hair splayed out on the pillow around my head. “You were crying in your sleep. Are you in pain?”
I nod, working my hand through the blankets to touch my throat. “Jeb,” I murmur.
Morpheus frowns. “Your friend’s safe and resting in the guest chambers. Which means you are mine for now.” He starts to pull the blankets back.
What felt like bindings a minute ago now feels like armor being peeled off. I’m not sure what I’m wearing underneath the covers, so I clamp the last remaining blanket in place at my collarbone.
Morpheus leans close. His hair brushes my exposed shoulder, tickling and soft. “Shy little blossom,” he whispers, his sweet breath cloaking me. “We’re simply going to meld your pain away.”
Meld … that doesn’t sound like something my dad would approve of. Jeb, either, for that matter. I start to push Morpheus back, but the blanket slides down my body in the curl of his pale, elegant fingers. I’m left in a long, strappy nightgown of champagne lace and satin. It covers all the right places, yet I feel exposed. Morpheus had to see me naked to put me into this. I cross my arms over my chest, cheeks hot.
He smiles. “No worries. My pets undressed you. When they took your clothes to be burned.”
“Burned? But … I don’t have anything else—”
“Hush now, and be still.”
“You said something about a banquet. There’s no way I’m wearing this.” I tighten my arms around myself.
He shakes his head, then pushes the hem of my gown until it’s just above my ankle, exposing my birthmark. I sit up, about to jerk my leg away, but his deep, dark eyes turn to mine. “Trust me.”
The fluttery sensation in my mind prods me to listen. Here in this place, where I no longer have the white noise of voices distracting me, I can hear my thoughts distinctly for the first time in years. I can understand that beating in my mind. The fluttering feeling—that’s me. I have another side, beyond good girl and obedient daughter, that’s instinctive and wild.
It’s that side that chooses to trust him, despite our bizarre past … or maybe because of it.
Rolling his shirt’s cuff to his elbow, Morpheus exposes that matching birthmark at his inner forearm—the one I remember from my dreams. Intrigued by our likenesses, I grasp his wrist with one hand, tracing the lines with my other. The maze glows beneath my touch. His features shift, and a rumble escapes his throat—something between a purr and a growl. His arm tenses, as if it takes his full concentration not to move while I appease my curiosity.
He’s a contradiction: taut magic coiled to strike, gentleness at war with severity, a tongue as sharp as a whip’s edge, yet skin so soft he could be swathed in clouds.
Holding his gaze, I remember what meld means. I take the lead and press our birthmarks together. Heat sparks the joining like when Alison healed my ankle and knee, though this is a more volatile reaction. Warmth simmers through my entire body, leaving me flushed from head to toe.
Morpheus coaxes me to lie back and draws down the gown’s hem before spreading a blanket up to my chin. He places his hat on his head at an angle. His wings sweep high as he stands, and the water curtain lifts in an arch around him.
“Don’t budge from that spot until I return with something for your throat.” There’s a raw edge to his voice that makes my body even warmer.
As he backs up, the water curtain drops, blinding me to my surroundings. The minute I hear the door to the room shut, I scoot out from under the covers, press my spine to the headboard, and curl my knees under my chin, shivering as the cool air hits me.
I close my eyes and think of how it felt—the pulse of his magic against my finger, his flesh against mine. Rubbing my birthmark, I shake off the euphoria.
The more I remember of Morpheus and this place, the more I forget myself … or the self I thought I was.
Why didn’t Alison tell me? If she’d just been honest, I wouldn’t be confused out of my mind while Jeb’s locked up in another room.
Guilt stabs my heart. No. She was trying to protect me. She’s going to suffer unnecessary shock treatments if I don’t break the curse and get back soon.
Instinctively, I reach a hand toward the liquid curtain and will the water to react to me as it did to Morpheus. It lifts back like a living thing and leaves me dry. I grab a blanket, tie it around my shoulders in a makeshift cape, and leap through, landing on a plush rug. An echo of soreness remains in my muscles. Other than that, I’m pain-free.