“Uh, well, that one is a snake. Obviously.” I clear my throat as I take in the adornments around it on his chest, as well as the decorations down his arms. “And flowers.” My fingers lift of their own accord to trace one. “This looks like a rose.”
Heat bathes my back as Maliki grabs my hip from behind. “A rose?” he repeats.
I nod, still caressing the intricate pattern. “Yes. And it feels alive.”
A purr ignites in Morpheus’s chest, drawing my focus back to the writhing snake. My fingers track the movement as I gently touch the slithering creature.
“It’s beautiful,” I whisper.
“The rose?” Morpheus asks.
“Yes. And the snake,” I say, following the coiling path with my nail. “Snakes are useful guardians for the garden.”
“And what do you see, Maliki?” Morpheus asks, causing my brow to crinkle.
“A suicidal Alpha attempting to seduce another God’s Omega,” Maliki drawls.
Morpheus smiles. “I love it when you flirt with me, Enforcer. But I’m trying to prove a point to our Serapina about my tattoos.”
“What point?” I ask, mostly to distract myself from everything else they just said to one another.
Yetour Serapinaechoes in my mind, which makes me shiver. A foreign part of me likes the sound of that. Perhaps a little too much.
“That my tattoos look different to everyone who sees them. So how do they appear to you, Ghost?” he asks, a taunting lilt in his tone.
“Like flames and skulls,” Maliki answers. “No flowers or snakes for me. Just death and destruction.”
“Hmm,” Morpheus hums. “Should I take that as a threat or a promise of a good time?”
“Time will tell, I suppose,” Maliki replies before brushing a kiss against my neck. “However, speaking of deadly objects, I have some pancakes to remake.”
He gives my hip a squeeze and releases me.
Morpheus leans against the door frame, his blue-green eyes flickering with interest as he stares down at me. “Do you have any tattoos, little dreamer?”
A laugh bubbles out of me. “No. Pretty sure those are not a thing where I come from.”
“Perhaps from your part of that world, no. But your universe is larger than you realize.” He reaches out to tucka damp strand of hair behind my ear. “Do you want some coffee?”
The abrupt topic change makes me frown. “Coffee?”
“Or clothes?” he offers, his gaze dipping down and reminding me that all I’m wearing is a towel.
“Oh. I, uh, yes. That’s why I came out here.” Then I was distracted by the shirtless men.
One is making breakfast with Pip.
The other is standing far too close to me now.
Yep.
I clear my throat. “Where can I find something to wear?”
“Is there a specific outfit you have in mind?” he asks.
“Maybe something from Alina?” I suggest. “Assuming she’s here.”
“She’s here,” he tells me. “But I can help you find your own clothes. Just tell me what you want to wear, and I’ll make all your wishes come true.”
