God of My Dreams (Greek Heroes #1) ✅ Completed

Chapter Seven: Sexxy in the City

Sexxy in the City

It’d been centuries since Morpheus had walked the human plane. Certainly, he’d kept up to date on modern times through people’s dreams. He couldn’t very well be the god of dreams without a working knowledge of such things as cell phones, social websites, or even online dating.

The online dating was particularly useful as it was a great source of nightmares and feelings of distress he used to weave into a sleeper’s dream. After all, life was all about balance – even in his realm. Every time someone had a happy dream about kissing the sparkly vampire of their innermost fantasies, someone else had to have a nightmare about kissing his older, balder, fatter brother who most definitely did not sparkle.

But he did drool a little.

Morpheus marveled at the glass and steel structures that rose up to blot out the sky. Modern New York was a far cry from the place it’d once been – the streets were no longer cobbled (they were smoothly paved), trash didn’t line every part of the street (it was kept in neat receptacles on the corners), and horse and carriages didn’t run down distracted pedestrians (taxis did that now).

Still, the people though dressed differently, were still essentially the same; humans hustled to their little jobs, met friends for drinks, or even attempted to blend and hide, hoping to get lost in the crowd. Fashions and architecture changed, humanity was not so elastic.

Even as marvelous as the “new” New York was, Morpheus was only interested in one particular sight at the moment.

And he knew exactly where to find it, or more specifically her: Miss Gwen-Stacey Reynolds.

Hermes had delivered the address to him just that morning. He’d even offered to help him find the exact location, his very own old-school Grecian GPS. But Morpheus had refused. Hermes was real cool, but he was a big flirt too. Not as bad as Apollo, or even worse Zeus, but he wasn’t exactly a troll and Morpheus didn’t want to worry about any competition just yet.

Though why a woman would ever choose to hang with the god of mail deliveries over the god of dreams he’d never fully understand. Some women were just weird like that. They preferred shaggy blonde hair and a lean build over his darker, much more muscular physique. But hey, his wings weren’t on his shoes, they were on his back. Any being with real wings would be just as wide and big as he was – what would you expect if you were forced to carry your weight around all the time several thousand feet off the ground?

Shaking off his small moment of insecurity, Morpheus strode into Gwen-Stacey’s office building. He ignored the looks both men and women threw his way. Since it was the early fall he’d donned expensive black slacks, a black shirt open at the neck, and a matching black suit jacket. Even his shoes were shiny Italian leather – in black of course. The only splash of color he allowed himself was the dark blue silk handkerchief he left in his blazer’s front breast pocket.

He looked pretty damn good.

Women smiled at him while men glared, reaffirming that all was right with the world. Morpheus tried hard not to appear too smug about it. He was mostly successful.

He rode the elevator up, and when he got to the appropriate floor, he walked out and looked around. It was a little crazy, like an old bazaar in Morocco he used to frequent a while back; people milling about, children running to and fro, women and men haggling over brown files, attempting to load or unload at the most selfishly beneficial rate possible.

“Um…can I help you?” An attractive dark haired woman asked as she stopped in front of him and stared openly. 

He smiled and was pleased to see her quick intake of air. “I hope so. I must speak with Miss Reynolds. Is she available?”