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“Everything okay?”

A deep, blissful groan comes from behind the door.

Oh, for heaven’s sake.

I crack it open.

Steam rolls into the hallway.

Morpheus stands beneath the shower, his head tipped back, water streaming down his enormous body.

He opens one silvery eye.

“Calla.”

I try very hard to look at his face.

“Yes?”

“This is extraordinary.”

“It’s a shower.”

“Warm water. Without servants. Without fire. Without waiting.”

“Modern plumbing is pretty impressive.”

He smiles.

“Come here.”

I laugh.

“Absolutely not.”

“Afraid?”

“Of you? Never.”

“Then join me.”

“Nice try, sweetheart.”

His grin widens.

“Coward.”

I shut the door.

Twenty minutes later, he emerges wearing nothing but a towel around his hips.

Another towel is pressed against his cheek.

I stare.

“What are you doing?”

He rubs the fabric against his face.