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His eyes are a silvery shade of violet.
He watches me with a slow, wicked smile, as though he’s been waiting a very long time for this particular moment.
I clutch the sheet against my chest.
“Who are you?”
He tilts his head.
“Come now, little mortal.”
His voice is deep, smooth, and far too amused for a stranger standing in my bedroom.
“You spent hours admiring me.”
My mouth falls open.
He takes one deliberate step closer.
“And I distinctly recall a rather indecent comment about my fig leaf.”
Oh.
My.
God.
His smile widens.
“Hello, Calla.”
Chapter 2
Calla
Well, this is new.
One minute, I’m lying in bed, staring at the most gorgeous man I’ve ever seen. The next, I’m standing barefoot in the middle of an enormous marble temple, wearing a white silk nightgown that I most definitely do not own.
And the gorgeous man?
He’s standing beside an altar, looking like every filthy fantasy I’ve ever had rolled into one impossibly perfect package.
I glance around.
Massive white columns rise toward a ceiling that doesn’t exist. Beyond them, an endless sky glitters with unfamiliar stars. Hundreds of candles flicker along the marble floor, and sheer curtains billow in a breeze that smells faintly of jasmine.
Someone has gone to a ridiculous amount of trouble to decorate my subconscious.
I look down at my nightgown.
Silk. Lace. A neckline that leaves very little to the imagination.
It’s sexy. Really sexy.
Apparently, even my dreams think I need to get laid.
“Calla.”
