Dreamless

this god before, but she knew him. After all, she had spent nearly every night of her life cradled in his arms. There was nothing Morpheus didn’t know about her, no wicked little secret that she had been able to hide from him, and he appeared to love her, anyway. In fact, from the way his starlit eyes gazed up at her, Helen could tell he adored her.
    She smiled with relief, slipped her hand into his, and sighed as she let her head fall against his smooth, moonbeam-bright chest. Every muscle in her body let go as wave upon wave of soothing relaxation rolled through her exhausted limbs. For the first time in months, Helen experienced true rest. Just moments in the god’s arms made up for all those weeks of dreamlessness.
    Morpheus made a sound in his chest, a deep rumbling hum of pleasure, and stroked her face. Gently coaxing her lips apart, he slid two fingers into her mouth and claimed his coin.
    “But you didn’t need to bring payment to visit me. In the many hours you spend with your eyes closed before or after you descend into the Underworld, you are free to dream. You could have floated in with any of the other sleeping minds whenever you wanted,” he said, gesturing to the playful winds that constantly buffeted the tent, occasionally drifting in to ruffle his long, soft hair. “You have more control than you know, Helen. You can even visit me here in body without an obol if you want.”
    “But I can’t visit you,” Helen protested, slightly confused. “Even when I don’t descend into the Underworld, I haven’t been able to dream.”
    “Because you’re afraid of what you’ll find in your dreams, not because any outside force is stopping you. You feel so much guilt for what you want, you can’t even face it in your sleep.” Morpheus lifted Helen, and placed her on top of him so she was looking directly down on him. He dug his fingers into her hair and made it fan around them like a golden curtain that closed them in together.
    “I can dream whenever I want?” Helen asked, already knowing the answer. The moment Helen had learned that Lucas was her cousin, she had stopped dreaming by choice. She’d just never admitted it to herself before.
    “My troubled Beauty. I hate to see anyone suffer, you most of all. Stay here with me and be my queen and I will fulfill all your dreams.”
    The face and body beneath her shifted and changed into a more familiar form. Helen gasped and pulled back. It was Lucas who sat up and gently gripped her arms.
    “I can be this one as often as you like, and you needn’t feel guilty because I’m not actually him,” Lucas said. Helen felt him pull her close and didn’t resist. It was all a dream, right? She ran her hands across his chest and allowed him to kiss her lightly as he spoke. “Or, I can be others. The other one you want so much. Maybe more . . .”
    Helen felt the mouth against hers grow fuller and softer, and felt the bare shoulders under her hands thicken. She opened her eyes and found Orion kissing her. Pulling away, Helen wondered anxiously what Morpheus meant by this. He knew her deepest dreams, so why had he turned Lucas into Orion?
    Orion pushed her onto her back, and she couldn’t help but laugh when he jumped on top of her with a naughty grin. He was so much fun , and being with him was so uncomplicated. With Lucas, she could be completely herself, but with Orion she could be whomever she felt like being at the moment. The thought was intoxicating.
    Orion slid her hands up over her head, pinning her under him. The giddy mood dissipated as quickly as it arose, and Orion’s face grew serious.
    Helen suddenly understood Lucas’s last warning. She could not allow herself to be seduced or she would never leave this bed. Although she didn’t want to, Helen shook her head, preventing Orion from leaning down to kiss her. Morpheus took his own shape again and propped himself up on his elbows over her with a boyish sigh.
    “You are downright addictive,” Helen said sadly.
    She allowed herself to consider what it would be like to live forever in this dream palace with this god. She combed her fingers through his hair, making a midnight tent out of his long locks around their faces, the reverse of what he had done with her sunny blonde hair moments ago.
    “But I can’t stay here,” she said, pushing him back and sitting up. “There are too many things I have to accomplish in the world.”
    “Dangerous things,” he countered with genuine