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

Chapter Thirteen: A Parisian Pact

A Parisian Pact

 

 

Gwen-Stacey sat in the cozy corner Parisian bistro and smiled at the handsome young waiter who delivered her espresso and croissant. He was stiff and formal as he set both her drink and her food in front of her.

"Merci," she thanked him in halfway decent French.

"Est-ce tout?" he asked, his icy demeanor melting a little as he took note that she spoke his native language.

"Oui. Merci beaucoup," she replied politely.

This time she earned a smile and a small nod. The waiter turned and she watched him walk away, ignoring several of the other patrons that called out to him in English. As she watched, she noticed a family sitting a few table away, the dad looking at the other Americans in disgust as they complained about how rude the French were.

"It's amazing how helpful the French can be if you simply bother to ask for something in their own language."

Gwen-Stacey turned back and sitting across the small table was a sharply dressed god. A Greek one to be precise: Morpheus, god of Dreams. She knew it was him like one knew most things in dreams - it just was.

She couldn't help but stare a little at her visitor. The dream god was both stunning and dangerous, like a force of nature that was fascinating to watch but destructive as all hell. His face was darkly beautiful and harsh at the same time, softened only slightly by the long black tresses that fell well past his shoulders. He was large and wide, taller than most men. He didn't sit as much as take up a considerable chunk of space.

"Yes, I would agree," she nodded, glancing back at the other Americans that were still making rude comments about the French, Paris, and Europe in general. Honestly, why did people like that even bother to travel outside the U.S. if that was going to be their attitude?

"I've often wondered that very thing myself, though the scenery is well worth the trip." Morpheus replied, plucking the question right out of her mind.

Gwen-Stacey eyed him curiously. He was right of course. It was a gorgeous spring day and Paris was just starting to bloom. It was a perfect time to see the sights, though right now, the only sight that was monopolizing all of her attention was the being sitting across the table.

Morpheus wore an elegant black cashmere sweater under a tight fitting leather jacket, coupled with dark blue jeans and black motorcycles boots. He seemed the epitome of both posh modern yet casual elegance as he sat against the modern French backdrop. The dream god looked like he belonged exactly where he was and Gwen-Stacey had to agree.

Still, this was her dream so she was able to take the god in stride. Besides, she'd seen much weirder people make cameos in her little nighttime adventures from time to time. A Greek god was nowhere near the far end of the weird spectrum for her.

Gwen-Stacey picked up her espresso and took a sip as she continued to eye her new companion. "I think it's rather asinine for people to think the French should speak English even in France. It's like asking Americans to speak Japanese just because some tourists ask for directions to Times Square."

"Those are your father's words" Morpheus pointed out.

"They sure are. He was also the person that insisted I learn French so when I visited France I wouldn't embarrass him." She glanced back over at the table where her father was telling that very thing to her childhood self. In her dream, her father looked exactly as he had back then.