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“Told who?” I shake my head, attempting to rid myself of this strange dream. “Who are you? What do you want?”
“I want to warn you.” His temperament becomes solemn. “Things are not what they seem.”
“What are you talking about?” I whip my gaze around, trying to identify the threat, but I only see one—the man, or rather, thegodbefore me. “Things are not what they seemhereor in my life?”
“Both.”
Remembering Hermes’s threat to Eros at the hotel, I ask, “Why would you need to warn me? Why wouldyoucare?”
He tilts his head like it’s a dumb question. “Whywouldn’tI care?”
“Huh?” I ask, wondering why I would think he’s concerned for my safety. “Am I in danger?”
“Well, if you consider your soul on the line as danger…” He shrugs.
“How? Why?” Panic crawls up my spine.
“Because of them.”
Now I’m irritated. “I hate cryptic answers. Are you going to give me any real advice, or are you just trying to make me paranoid?”
“My advice is that you should be paranoid. I want you to question what’s happening in your life.”
“Gods really like to mess with mortals, huh?” I roll my eyes. “I’m guessing you’re one of the Greek ones. They are the worst, according to the myths.”
“We do like our games, and I agree wholeheartedly, we are the worst.” He arches an eyebrow. “That is why I’m warning you.”
I feel a pull from far away, tugging all my attention.
“You’ll be betrayed…” he says as the scene fades.
I blink, and I’m back in my bed.
Eros is desperately calling my name and shaking my shoulders. Half of his body is over mine, as if he plans to protect me from a bomb blast, and his face is buried in my hair.
“What’s going on?” I ask.
He pulls away, his eyes wide. His face rushes forward, and he almost kisses me in his relief.
With a molecule to spare, he diverts his lips to my cheek and pecks me several times, as his hands roam over my sides as if he’s reassuring himself that I’m okay.
“Tell me what happened,” he demands. His golden eyes are so close, studying mine as if I’m keeping a secret.
“I don’t know. I was asleep, and I woke up to you freaking out.” My hand lifts to comfort him by gently stroking his back. “I’m okay. Why are you so wound up?”
“I felt a presence… another god. When I tried to wake you, you didn’t react.”
“I had a weird dream.”
“Who was there? What happened?” Eros asks, anger ringing in his voice. Or is it concern I hear?
“Some guy with black wings for ears.”
“Malaka!”
“Who is Malaka?”
Lost in his irritation, Eros does a double take and then shakes his head. “Not his name. Malaka means…fucker.”
