With Morpheus, it’s hard to say. He loves imparting information, though. And I appreciate that trait about him.
However, I don’t appreciate how deftly he unfastens my heel.
He’s barely touched me, and poof, the strap is unhooked.
I glare as he pulls the shoe away like it was the easiest task in the world.
“Practice makes perfect,” he tells me as he gently setsmy foot down. Rather than ask for the other, he simply takes hold of my opposite limb and repeats the action.
Except he doesn’t release me right away like last time. Instead, he leans in and presses a kiss to my ankle before freeing me, then reaches over for Maliki’s jacket and holds it out for me to take.
“How about a shower?” he asks after I bundle myself up in the coat. “I always need one after playing in the sand.”
I blink at him. “Where would I shower? In the ocean?”
He glances back over his shoulder, his crouched form blocking my view. “Oceans are fun and all, but they don’t help much with the sand. Actually, I think it’s worse because then you’re wet and it sticks.”
I squirm, his comment about beingwetreminding me of the slickness between my thighs.The sand is already sticking, I think, wincing. “A shower sounds… yes. I would like that. But, uh, where if not the ocean?”
He gestures with his chin behind me. “In Hades’s house. If you can even call it that. More like a fucking cave. But last I checked, it has running water.”
“And when was the last time youchecked?” a cultured tone interjects, the words precise and underlined with a quiet fury.
Swallowing, I readjust Maliki’s jacket around myself, suddenly relieved that it fits me like a blanket.
All these men are huge compared to me. I’ve always been shorter and smaller, but they make me feel even more inferior somehow.
Meek, I mock with a mental snort, intentionally using it again.Stars, I really loathe that word.
“Mykonos?” Maliki’s voice has me spinning in the sand to search for him. “Really?”
I gape at the large gash across his face and scramble up from my seated position to try to run toward him.
And promptly trip.
Hades catches me by the hip, his brow furrowing. “Did you give her wine?” he asks.
“She’s never walked in the sand before, Hades,” Morpheus replies. “Give our Omega some grace.”
“She’s notourOmega. She ismyOmega,” Hades corrects him. “And why are you here, Morpheus?”
I push away from Hades and try to carefully navigate toward Maliki. My “mate’s” possessiveness can wait. “Are you okay?” I ask Maliki, reaching for him.
He smirks down at me. “I’m fine, trouble. Just got in Ossa’s way, is all.”
My hand hovers over the jagged mark on his cheek. The blood is still oozing from the fresh cut.
“Ossa did this?” I ask, shivering as I think about Hades’s pet guard—a three-headed wolf beast with three names. Ossa, I gathered, is a female. Mort and Howl are her… brothers, I guess?
Maliki nods. “Ossa’s positively feral when she’s pissed off. I tried to move, but I wasn’t fast enough.” He turns thoughtful. “Though, it may have also been intentional. With her, it’s hard to say.”
“Why was she feeling feral?” I ask slowly. Then I frown. “Does it have something to do with why we’re here? In Myko-ah-nos?”
Pretty sure I didn’t get the name right.
But I tried.
“Why are we here, again?” I ask, aware that Hades just made a similar inquiry of Morpheus. But I think our questions actually hold different meanings. “What happen?—”
