I nod. “Okay, and then what happened?”
She swallows and goes on, saying how she fell into an abyss of darkness where she was nothing but soul. The sad way she speaks about the experience causes my purr to ignite, the need to soothe her overriding reason.
Serapina stills, her eyes drooping a little.
Morpheus moves to stand behind her, his hands on her hips as she leans back into him. He meets my gaze as he begins to purr, too, his cadence more rhythmic than mine. But my reverberation is all baritone and bass.
Our mate seems to sway between us, her comfort apparent in the way she relaxes.
Normally, I would hate that he’s helping me in this way.
But right now, our Omega needs us. So I don’t comment on Morpheus’s involvement and instead say, “What you’re describing sounds like Pandora’s Box.”
“It is,” Morpheus murmurs. “That sense of nothingness is exactly how it feels to exist there.”
His words and tone hold meaning, one I wouldn’t have picked up on before. However, our conversation from less than an hour ago is still very fresh in my mind.
“She told me I deserved my fate,” she says, her brow furrowing. “No, she told Persephone that she deserved her fate there. I… I…” Her eyes widen. “What if Persephone is trapped there? Is that why she hasn’t taken over my body? Become, er, me?”
I stare at her, then look at Morpheus. He appears to be equally confused. “Serapina, you are Persephone,” I say slowly. “A reincarnation of her, anyway. Her soul isn’t trapped anywhere.”
If it were, I would feel it.
Instead, all I sense is that the woman before me is my mate. My Persephone.My Omega. She’s just been reborn.As Serapina.
“But what if she’s trapped there?” she asks. “What if I was reliving a memory? Like I have with you?”
My brow furrows. “What memories have you seen of me?” Because this is the first I’m hearing about it. She’s mentioned dreams, but not memories.
“I… I’m referring to…” Her cheeks redden as she glances at Maliki and then back at Morpheus. When her eyes meet mine again, I can tell this isn’t something she wants to discuss in front of them.
Which suggestsintimatememories.
“Would you be comfortable speaking with me privately about these memories, Serapina?” I ask her, oddly nervous about how she might respond.
I want her to feel safe with me. But I wouldn’t blame her if she refused me.
“It’s… I don’t know how to describe…” She trails off.
“Serapina, if you’re talking about your dreams of Hades, I don’t think those were memories,” Morpheus inserts quietly.
She gives him a startled look over her shoulder. “You’ve seen…?”
“Only the beginnings of them,” he tells her. “Whenever you enter my realm, I’m aware and drawn to you. But I always try to give you privacy. With one exception.”
Her cheeks darken even more, and I know he’s talking about the dream she recently woke up from—the one that led Maliki to satisfying her.
“Have you witnessed anything that leads you to think it was more than a dream?” I ask Morpheus, my words drawing us back to the topic at hand.
He shakes his head. “No. If they were memories, you would have been dressed differently.”
I arch a brow.
“You didn’t wear suits two thousand years ago, Hades,” he adds, staring at me. “In fact, our wardrobe was quite different. Yet every dream I’ve seen in her mind has begun with you in a modern suit.”
“And you don’t think it could have been manipulated in some way?” I press. Not because I don’t believe him, but because I want to ensure we’ve evaluated every point of potential relevance.
“No. I think it was simply her soul’s way of trying to help Serapina find you,” he says, his attention shifting to her. “Unless you’ve dreamt of Hades in obsidian armor?”
