Maliki, I think, warm all over.
My lips seem to tingle at the memory of his kiss, my tongue suddenly craving another taste. Only, I feel like I’ve been asleep for years.
And I really want to take another shower as a result.
A strange desire, considering I just took one before falling asleep, but I give in to the need and roll out of the bed to go freshen myself up.
It’s not until I’m standing in a towel post-shower—which, thankfully, worked as expected this time—that I realize I only have the button-down shirt to wear.
Twisting my lips to the side, I leave the bathroom and go to search for Maliki. Maybe he can help me find proper clothes.
Although, he’s the one who gave me that shirt to wear. So maybe not.
I’ll ask for Alina instead, I decide. It’ll give me an excuse to check in with my sister, too.
Hades said she’s here somewhere with her mates. Now that I’m less exhausted and thinking clearly, I realize I should probably have requested proof of?—
I freeze in the kitchen when I find Maliki wagging a finger at Pip. “I told you not to touch that.”
My little friend deflates, his shoulders curving down and causing his cloak to droop.
“Look, I know you mean well, but you can’t handle these items without the gloves Morpheus manifested for you. So stop taking them off.”
Pip’s head bobs from side to side in a way that doesn’t signify agreement, but something else.
“Don’t mock me,” Maliki chastises. “You know I’m right.”
The little soul huffs.
“Yeah, gloves suck. But you can’t make Sera breakfast without them. So do you want to learn or not?”
“He’s teaching Pip how to properly make pancakes,” a deep voice murmurs into my ear.
I spin around at the unexpected presence and come face-to-face with Morpheus’s chiseled chest.
I blink a dozen or so times, my brain seeming to malfunction at the display of masculine beauty.
He’s always wearing suits.
Yet right now, he’s in a pair of gray sweatpants and nothing else.
“You have a tattoo,” I sputter out, aware that I sound a little shrill. And maybe a tad bit ridiculous, too. Because obviously he knows he has a tattoo. It’s a snake design in the center of his chest. “Is it moving?” I ask in the next breath, clearly unable to filter my words this morning.
Or evening.
Or today.
Or whenever it is.
I don’t know.
But yeah, that snake is definitely moving. Kind of like Maliki’s tattoos. “Oh, you have more on your arms,” I realize aloud, my gaze dancing all over his flawless physique.
“What do you see when you look at them?” Morpheus asks softly.
I frown. “What do you mean?”
“What shape do they take on?” he rephrases.
