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He kisses me.

Slowly.

Thoroughly.

Until I forget about mortality and divine curses and the fact that I apparently have several thousand years of birthdays ahead of me.

When he finally pulls back, his forehead rests against mine.

“Are you certain?” he asks quietly.

I look into those extraordinary violet eyes.

“About forever?”

He nods.

I smile.

“With you? Absolutely.”

Morpheus rises from the chair.

I expect him to carry me inside.

Instead, he takes my hand and helps me stand.

Then he does something that makes my heart stop.

He kneels.

Right there on the balcony.

My enormous, arrogant, impossible god lowers himself onto one knee.

I stare.

“Morpheus?”

He looks up at me.

His expression is unusually serious.

“Calla Reyes.”

Oh.

Oh, my God.

I cover my mouth.

He smiles.

“Three thousand years ago, I believed myself above mortals.”

His thumb brushes my knuckles.

“I demanded worship. I expected obedience. I believed desire was something to command.”